Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Late Summer 2028, Cambridge

r/relationship_advice • Posted by u/ThrowRA_missingthesun

I (21M) and my SO (26NB) spent a night with my BFF (21M) on our honeymoon and fell in love with him. We want to create a more permanent arrangement, but he is now ghosting us.

Throwaway account because my BFF is a genius control freak who will find this asap the second he looks at the internet.

I’ll try to be as brief as possible, but a bit of background because it’s complicated. I had two best friends growing up — only one is important for this post, my BFF. I’ll call him ‘The Sun’ because it feels like our lives revolve around him. I realised fairly early on as a teenager that I was bi (I now identify as pan), but The Sun always came across as ace (if asked, he’d reply he was straight and ‘not interested in anything like that’). I should probably mention that he’s secretive af and, as I said above, a total control freak.

When we went to uni he met a girl and fell in love, so I thought he was maybe demi, but generally just figured he was never going to be interested in me, which was a shame cause I’d always wondered, y’know? At uni I also met my SO (the Love Of My Life, but that’s another story) so the four of us would do the whole double-date thing.

In our final year we discovered that a) The Sun is as far from straight as I am and b) he & my SO had cheated on me and The Sun’s gf with each other (just once — another complicated story).

My SO and I were okay, I was mostly annoyed that The Sun had me think he was unavailable, especially since he — to my surprise — indicated that he might have been interested in me if he’d known I felt like that. In short my SO and I would have been happy to try a foursome of some kind, except the gf was having none of it and literally said ‘Hands off’.

Fast forward some months to the end of uni, and me & my SO got married. Shortly afterwards The Sun confessed to his gf that he’d been lying to her for 3 years (unrelated personal stuff, he’s got issues shall we say). In response she freaked out & broke up with him, which I had warned him might happen. To try to cheer him up we invited him along for our honeymoon, and one night managed to get him into bed, which was basically a dream come true. What happened next is difficult to explain, but it’s like we fell in love with him that night? Not because of the sex just… it’s like he put a spell on us? (Which sounds corny as hell I know, but that’s what it feels like.) We would happily throw all our own plans out the window to be with him.

Ever since that night, however, he’s wanted nothing to do with us and we’re just sort of stuck in limbo. We’ve done our best to let him know that we will do basically anything to have him back (if his gf won’t), but he’s ghosting us and has never even explained why he’s run away, or why he won’t talk to us. We think he might be trying to get back together with his gf since we know they genuinely love each other, despite everything.

Any suggestions? We will see them both at Graduation in a couple of months’ time, and presumably he won’t literally run away if he sees us. We basically feel like we’re currently living in darkness out of the sunlight and need a way back in.

Sunshine, real or metaphorical, was in short supply.

Joshua Levin, the author of the Reddit post, was frowning at his phone as he scrolled through the comments, a bowl of half-eaten cereal ignored on the kitchen table next to him.

It was a frown with layers.

Most immediate was the fact that he was not accustomed to frowning. Joshua was one of those individuals on whom Lady Luck had smiled since Day One: he was beautiful, charming and intelligent, and knew how to use all of these assets to the full.

Secondly, he wasn’t used to having to ask others for help — or (maybe more accurately) he wasn’t used to having to ask for help at all. Not only had he grown up in relative privilege, but ‘The Sun’ (aka Alexander Saxon aka ‘the Seeker’) had always softened his path, to the extent that the idea of somehow losing him had never even occurred to Josh. They had been friends since they were four years old, seeing each other almost daily throughout that time. Of course it hadn’t always been an easy friendship — Josh had argued plenty with Alex over the years, ongoing arguments that had at times simmered along for months on end, and yet it had never dented their fundamental connection. So this sudden, unexpected and wholly unexplained vanishing act truly did feel as if the sun itself had somehow just up and left, leaving Josh’s entire cosmos flailing and staggering in sudden and unexpected darkness.

Thirdly, and worst of all, no help was forthcoming.

Outside the window Cambridge was grey and wet, yet — as always — full of tourists undaunted by the weather. Summer was on the cusp of turning to autumn and to Josh (not a stranger to dramatics) it felt like the whole world was gloomy and overcast, a most uncomfortable reflection of his inner condition. A feeling exacerbated by the fact that inside the apartment packing boxes were populating every room, an unwelcome reminder how he and his other half had to leave their cosy nest.

Before the honeymoon they had been looking forward to their new life: himself snapped up by a prestigious architectural firm and Jamie getting a place at a music school to finally study something sie liked, rather than working in a bar. Now however, the idea of leaving Cambridge felt like yet another loss. Nevermind that they’d both grown up in London and were simply returning ‘home’ — if he was honest he wanted to simply flounce out on life and have someone else deal with the fallout. But he was supposedly all grown up now, and flouncing wasn’t an option anymore. (Or rather, it wasn’t an option when there was no alien BFF to accommodate his wishes.)

For a moment he allowed himself to wallow in memories — not the honeymoon itself, with its spectacular itinerary encompassing a cornucopia of the wonders of the universe — but the final night, the night that had changed their world, the night they had discovered an entirely different wonder.

(Deep breath, don’t think about it, don’t let the longing consume you, the awe and the wonderment and the light that shone straight into your soul until it felt like you could see the entire cosmos; planets and stars and galaxies dancing through time and yet all of it contained in one, impossible, person…)

He could cry at the loss and the forced separation, except it would do no good. He had to stop thinking about it. Somehow.

Forcing his attention back to Reddit he idly wondered if maybe doing a TikTok instead would have been better, since as a rule people were a sucker for a pretty face, he knew that much — and he had certainly never been above using his looks for his own advantage, having done his best to shamelessly flirt his way through life.

After all, what was the point of being beautiful if not to make use of it?

Turning his head he studied his reflection in the rain-streaked window. ‘Stop admiring yourself in every reflective surface!’ his mother scolded in his mind, but he dismissed her with well-practised ease. Golden skin, classical features, soft brown eyes, dark hair still tousled from sleep; added to which was the purple silk kimono, elegant and unmistakably feminine, and the overall effect was something like an echo of a foppish dandy from centuries past…

At this thought he pulled a face, caught between derision and amusement. As if his Jewish lil’ ass could ever be aristocratic. No, he was the secret bit on the side, the pretty boy toy, the bisexual twink; enticing enough to tempt even The Last of The Time Lords — the Bluest of Blue Blood in the universe — into bed, but apparently nothing more. Loved and abandoned, the most bewildering occurrence in his whole life, to the point of having to resort to asking Reddit for help.

Unfortunately, possibly due to being unable to draw on his natural advantages, he discovered that the comments were deeply disappointing. Not that he’d expected anything particularly helpful, but how were people so painfully close-minded? He knew his attitude to sex was more 51st Century than 21st (with many thanks to a certain Captain Jack), but the sheer number of replies being derogatory about what they referred to as his ‘open marriage’ were enough to make him want to bitchslap the whole world. You were a prude or a slut, no in-between apparently. And Reddit didn’t really give the option of nuance, not without writing something considerably longer and more in-depth… (The homo-, bi-, pan- and trans-phobic comments he simply ignored through long habit.)

He wasn’t even sure why he’d decided to throw the whole thing at Reddit, except the need to try to communicate with someone, anyone; to somehow reach out from the strange, unfamiliar place in which they found themselves. To see what a stranger might think, someone with no prejudices.

Well, clearly that concept was a complete fantasy.

Looking through his reflection to study the world outside the window he noted once again how grey the day was and half-wished he could be as excited as the thronging tourists. (He recalled being excited about Cambridge, once upon a time in a different life.)

But then all the days had been grey recently, irrespective of the weather. Josh knew that things had been different Before. He couldn’t quite articulate how, like how a dream slips away after waking, but also knew that ‘Before’ was not a place he wanted to return to, despite the current darkness. They’d been given a glimpse of life in the sun; all they needed was to get back.

“What are they saying?” Jamie asked, coming up behind him and draping hir arms around his shoulders, and Josh sighed, putting down the phone and Reddit with it.

“To sum up: they all think we’re toxic as hell — that we are a horrible couple who selfishly seduced the Seeker and ruined his relationship with Allison. About half think he should get back together with her, the other half think he’s also toxic and that we deserve each other. Generally the consensus is that Allison is better off without any of us.”

“Oh.”

He shrugged.

“I know, I know. That’s what I get for asking Reddit. ”

Jamie let hir chin rest on his shoulder, tilting hir head to try to look at him. As always sie was pale and exquisite, but with that cynical gleam in hir eyes that rarely left. Hir hair was still white-blonde, and for a moment Josh was taken back to their wedding day, the sheer vision sie had been. His very own human Star Poet, forever. Exquisite and singular. He picked up hir hand and kissed it; half-noticing the golden nail varnish and the soft silk of the green kimono sleeve against his cheek, all part of the ever-present awareness of having captured something precious and exotic, and he closed his eyes, feeling hir mental touch.

‘They seem very close-minded,’ sie observed coolly.

‘Well, I can’t explain about… all the other things,’ he replied, and sie did a mental snort.

‘Yeah, that didn’t go well.’

After the Seeker had ‘dropped them off’ the morning after that night, they had tried talking to Matt. After all Matt had known the Seeker as long as Josh had, understood what a Time Lord was better than anyone else they knew. (Except for Jack, but the Seeker had said ‘Don’t tell Jack!’ and so they couldn’t.) Matt had been curious about their ‘intergalactic honeymoon’, but attempting to explain what had happened had gone worse than they could ever have imagined — in the end Jamie had been forced to do hir first ever mind wipe.

Josh shuddered at the memory of that whole debacle.

Matt had for some strange reason thought that the Seeker had done something terrible. And Reddit had decided that somehow they had committed a crime.

It didn’t make sense. They just wanted to be happy… So why had the Seeker left, why wasn’t he answering any messages? Didn’t he want them?

Jamie clearly picked up on his thoughts, leaning hir head against Josh’s.

‘He’s our friend, he can’t just…’

(Dump us— leave us in the lurch— never speak to us again—)

“He,” Josh replied with a mixture of resentment and yearning, “can do whatever he wants.”

And there it was; the truth they understood to a degree they had never previously imagined.

Alex had been a friend — a rather magical friend, it was true — but then in one night their whole world had been turned upside down. Their friend had turned out to be a door that opened to reveal the whole of creation, the infinity of the cosmos (Everything, Everywhere, All At Once), a marvel upon marvels.

Except then the Seeker (no longer Alex, no, they now understood what he was seeking, and why) had slammed the door shut in their faces. He had said something about having to stop ‘using’ people, which was a lovely sentiment, except he hadn’t used them. If anything they had used him, wishing to have a taste of a wonder of the universe not in any guidebooks, and getting so much more than they had ever imagined.

And then losing it immediately afterwards…

Josh felt both hollow with longing for the sunlight they had found and lost, and also nameless frustration and resentment at how the Seeker had abandoned them…

A beat, then Jamie pulled back and surveyed the kitchen, before shaking hir head. Josh could sense the silent, resentful acquiescence — the way sie accepted defeat, the way sie had so many times before.

(‘Life’s a bitch, but I’m pretty used to that now.’)

“Right sad boi, there’s no way we can pack up ourselves before tomorrow,” sie remarked. “Not without half-killing ourselves. The books alone…”

Josh nodded. Some of the furniture was going to London, but most of the general ‘stuff’ — including most of Jamie’s extensive book collection — was going into storage, since the flat they were renting in London had nowhere near enough space. And Jamie categorically didn’t trust their renters to not somehow put tuna sandwiches in all the books.

“Guess I’ll ask for help,” he said, picking up the phone once more and sending a message to the extended friend group.

They’d come, he knew. They would be happy and enthusiastic and probably tease himself and Jamie about having too much fun in bed to get round to packing.

He could practically hear them already… The affectionate jibes, the excitement over his ‘dream-come-true’ job, questions about Jamie’s music studies (“Can’t believe you lived all these years in Cambridge and then start studying when you move back to London!”), fervent declarations that they would stay in touch…

And there was no way to explain how everything had changed, because their friends didn’t understand what they had experienced — how all their plans seemed superfluous now and they were simply waiting for the Seeker to turn up at their door and flood their lives with light once more.

They had to wait a long time.

And when the day finally came it was nothing like they imagined.

Chapter Text

Two years later
London, Earth, 23 Sept 2030 — approx two years post-honeymoon/graduation

The Seeker’s hand was shaking as he knocked on the door.

(He’d done everything right. Everything. Been honest, gracious, contrite, open, yet not crowding her... Answered every question, laid himself bare in ways he still found difficult to believe. Given her everything; and Allison had given him hope. Wonderful, terrible hope, the greatest two-edged sword in existence. And yet he’d lost. Inside there was nothing but a howling void, an untrammelled fury that frightened him in its intensity. Because this was the end. Her letter had left no doubts. It had been clear, precise, gentle — and devastating.)

The door was opened by Jamie.

(‘Life isn’t fair. Not for me, not for them, not for anyone.’)

Sie didn’t say a word, merely opened hir arms and the Seeker almost collapsed into hir embrace, kissing hir deeply and desperately.

‘Mine’, he thought, ‘Mine, mine completely’, and he could feel Jamie’s mind dancing in delight, bright and passionate and welcoming.

Josh was at his desk, making a vague attempt at looking like he was working on The Worlds Ugliest Office Building while surreptitiously scrolling through Instagram. (Why did they want it to be purple? It would clash with everything around it and that was before even considering the basic design. What was wrong with people? He was deeply tempted to make a snarky submission to Clients From Hell.)

The notification from Jamie almost gave him a heart attack, firstly because apparently he’d forgotten to set the phone to vibrate so it pinged out in the office making everyone look at him — and secondly when he read the message itself.

“He’s here!”

He stared at the words and almost began shaking. It was like an infinity of hope and want exploding within him; the world went fuzzy around the edges and he felt strangely light-headed, like when he’d polish off a bottle all by himself in less than an hour or that time he’d fainted in drama class when he was thirteen.

Slowly he became aware of one of his co-workers shaking his shoulder.

“Josh? Josh! Are you okay? Josh, talk to me!”

‘This must be what an out-of-body experience feels like’, he thought to himself.

“JOSH!”

Forcing himself to turn his head he looked into worried eyes, idly wondering why they looked like that. Everything was finally okay. Everything. Everything.

Oh G-d he might be able to breathe for the first time in two years…

His shoulder was still being shaken and he blinked, trying to focus. He couldn’t explain. No one understood, but that didn’t matter…

“I — I need to go,” he said, and it seemed like his voice was coming from very far away.

His phone buzzed again and he picked it up, sending a simple thumbs up to Jamie to let hir know that he had gotten the message (writing was too complicated a task, his hands weren’t working right). Then he got to his feet, unsteady legs unsure if they agreed with standing up, before haphazardly gathering his stuff and throwing it into the fashionable leather ‘man bag’ that he still hated with a passion. (It wasn’t the bag’s fault, but it had been bought as a replacement for a pretty, flowery Kath Kidston one that had almost caused him to get beaten up three times in less than a month. His resentment of having to conform ran deep.)

“Josh!”

His coworker, having given up on simply shaking him, instead grabbed hold of his arm as he was trying to get into his coat.

He tried to shake them off — Sunshine was waiting for him, he needed to go, why did they keep wanting to delay him? He vaguely registered that everyone else had stopped working and was simply staring at him.

“Josh! What happened?”

He looked around the office, the questioning eyes, the confusion, the concern, and wanted to scream that he never wanted to see any of them again, ever; like a tantrumming toddler who had just been given a ticket to Disneyland… Except grown ups didn’t do that, did they? He searched for words, some sort of non-explanation, and eventually went with:

“I — got some news. I can’t explain, I just need to go!”

And with that he grabbed his bag and left, coat clutched in his other hand, having given up on attempting the complexity of putting it on.

He felt like he was vibrating, like all his molecules had been activated or something (the sciences had never really been his thing), like he would actually explode if he didn’t get home immediately.

The journey was interminable — the slowest trains in the world and about a bajillion people all determined to specifically be in his way — but as soon as he opened the door to the flat he felt that cosmic golden glow envelope him.

Kicking off his shoes and dumping everything else, he practically ran to the sitting room, falling to his knees beside the sofa and fighting back tears.

The Seeker was asleep on the sofa, a blanket lovingly tucked around him, and he was clearly catatonic from drink (the smell of alcohol was significant).

Josh barely noticed.

He felt bathed in sunshine, warmth suffusing him through to his very marrow, and with a shaking hand he reached out and ran his fingers through the Seeker’s blond hair.

“What happened?” he asked, even though he had already got the gist, being able to sense the inner turmoil.

“Allison finally made up her mind,” Jamie replied, from hir perch on the armrest. “His mind… It was very incoherent, but… He’s a mess. Like the floodgates have broken completely.”

Josh nodded:

“So he’s here because-”

“-we are his.”

Their eyes met, and they smiled.

‘And now he is ours’ didn’t need saying.

They watched over him until they were too tired to stay awake.

The Seeker woke slowly, the hangover like a crushing weight stifling every movement, every thought.

For one blissful fraction of a second his whole world consisted of only physical pain. He wasn’t sure why this was a good thing, just that he should embrace it.

And then the memory of the letter crashed back into his conscious mind and he had to stop a sob escaping his lips, loss tearing through him once more, raw agony howling at him and no way to control it.

Curling up into a ball he took a few moments to simply not scream.

(Breathe through the pain — it won’t help, but your body needs oxygen.)

He was clearly not dead. Unless there actually was an afterlife and it was playing an exceptionally cruel joke on him.

(Right then, concentrate.)

The Letter. He had collected the letter. It had arrived more than a year previously, but he’d delayed collecting it from the PO box on Earth for months on end. (What if she said no? But what if she said yes? What if-) Writing a letter, rather than simply calling, seemed to indicate a ‘no’, but then on the other hand maybe she wanted to make sure she wasn’t distracted and to set everything down properly… He had thought through approximately five million different explanations and nearly driven himself mad. The only definite conclusion he could come to was that somehow a letter was very Allison, either way.

And then he had stood in a dull, impersonal space surrounded by walls of tiny metal lockers and his whole world had collapsed — as if hovering on the edge of a black hole and feeling gravity winning; falling, falling, falling with no hope of escape, the crushing weight of the loss increasing with every moment, an infinity of loss that kept expanding.

Everything from then on was a blur.

He recalled drinking. Yes. More than he had ever drunk before — and by quite some distance. Should have called Jack, should have… something other than what he had done. But the empty void of pain had needed filling and he knew Jack would stop him. It had been fire or alcohol, and fire was bad. So he had drunk until he was on the brink of actually fatally poisoning himself, and then… His mind was blank. The blank was quite nice, he liked the emptiness of it. But it was not helpful and it didn’t help ease the ache inside.

Eventually he opened his eyes to ascertain where he actually was. Well it was Earth, that much was obvious, but Earth was pretty big.

(He knew whom with, he could sense their minds although they were asleep. But where was another question.)

Looking around didn’t help much. It was dark, but with the faint light that came through the curtains from outside he tried to analyse in his surroundings: the sofa he was on he recognised as Jamie’s, he’d sat on it plenty of times in Jamie’s Cambridge flat, and the rest of the furniture (coffee table, armchair and cabinet) was similarly familiar — but the room was different. So, presumably not Cambridge…

His brow knit into a frown. Where had they gone?

London? Yes, London. The whys and wherefores he was not currently able to recall, but they’d moved to London. Ergo, this had to be Josh and Jamie’s London flat, and he was presently in their living room. Yes. He could see Josh’s little menorah on top of the cabinet, alongside a wedding photo.

Minor details apart, the room itself however was oddly nondescript in a way he couldn’t put his finger on in his current condition, he just knew that it felt off somehow. But that was a problem for another time. It was quite probably obvious, but after grasping for an answer and failing, his brain gave up even trying.

For a moment he just sat there, simply breathing through the loss and the alcohol poisoning-slash-crushing hangover, and realised that he needed to do something. He couldn’t do anything about his broken hearts, but the fact that the physical pain was impairing him to the point where he found it difficult to think was unsettling in and of itself.

With infinite care, and movements slower than a sloth, he managed to make his way to the bathroom. Thankfully the bathroom had painkillers (he wasn’t sure he’d have energy for searching any further in the darkness). Only checking to make sure that that it wasn’t aspirin he took enough that it should hopefully dampen the pain without making anything worse, before making his way back to the sofa, slow step by slow step, a hand braced against the wall so he wouldn’t fall. It was beyond pathetic, he’d once spun through the air, flying from trapeze from trapeze, and now he could barely walk, why was he doing this to himself… The thought immediately brought with it the memories from that summer in the circus, the blissful happiness contained in a small camper van and Allison, Allison, Allison everywhere. And oh, he had come so close to confessing the truth that night (no, don’t think about the prophecy, you don’t need that level of additional torment) and maybe if he’d owned up back then things would have gone differently… Except she had still left, there was nothing he could have done to make her stay. She had chosen humanity and her home.

Curling up on the sofa once more he finally gave in and simply cried.

By the time Josh and Jamie woke, the Seeker was more or less able to function (whether thanks to the crying or the painkillers he didn’t know), which in some ways was an improvement. In other ways, he wished he never had to face them again. He pulled the blanket up a bit higher and tried his best to become a part of the sofa.

Once more he contemplated the blank space in his memory and his apprehension grew. He had no idea what he’d done, or said, or demanded.

The last time he had seen them had been nearly two years previously, at Graduation, and he still remembered the encounter far too clearly: Josh’s beguilingly seductive kiss and the message that had followed (“Remember — we’re always here, whatever you need.”)

Looking up at them (so beautiful, so adoring), he knew he had to get it over and done with:

“Just tell me… What did I do?” (‘To you’ didn’t need saying.)

They shot each other a half-smile, then Jamie spoke.

“You practically fell through the door, kissed me, and passed out.”

He watched for the slightest hint of a lie. (They were tied together, the three of them, bonds deeper than conscious thought, and he could sense everything unsaid.)

“That’s all?”

“Yes.”

Letting himself sink back into the sofa, he felt relief flooding through him. It was a welcome emotion.

“Oh thank Rassilon. I…” He looked at them, his gorgeous creatures, wanting them so fiercely (they’ll take your mind off the pain!) yet feeling the terror of how he had altered them on too bone-deep a level to express.

On the other hand he didn’t trust himself not to do something stupid if he left. And he had a feeling that killing himself was the one thing they wouldn’t let him do.

(He was a mote. A mote, alone in the cosmos. Terrifyingly alone. And his hoped-for companion had left… But he had these two. A connection so deep he couldn’t explain it, a link embedded too far down to ever be undone. And he clung to it in the loneliness, like a shipwrecked sailor clinging to a plank.)

“Can I — can I stay? Just for a bit?”

“You can do anything, you know that,” Josh said, reproach in his voice.

He lowered his eyes.

“Yes I know,” he replied. That was why he was here, after all.

…

Fuck everything, he was such a mess.

Chapter Text

3 days later, the Seeker’s planet

Roda knew she was late.

But even so she thought that being entirely absent from the solar workshop where they usually met was a little over the top on the Seeker’s side.

Dragging a hand through her hair, she shook her head. He might just have gone to get some lunch or… something. Although normally he’d already be working, merely sending her a silent look as she entered, and everything looked pristine. Of course he was a freakishly neat worker, but it looked like nothing had been touched since last time. Could he have changed the time? Or even the date? She hadn’t exactly checked her messages recently…

A little later she had established that he wasn’t in any of the other workshops either and, since there was no message that she could find, she made her way to the main house.

She wouldn’t say that she had yet become used to the planet — it was still deeply weird to be somewhere that was essentially a picture perfect copy of Gallifrey — but the solid, circular buildings helped to differentiate the place in her head. The tot had copied nature’s colour-scheme, but clearly had no inclination for duplicating the Time Lord’s pompous architecture. (Mostly. Although at least the ostentatious entrance hall was modelled after human conventions.)

So, as she wandered along the path from the workshops to the house, she was not distracted by her surroundings but instead trying to puzzle out the situation. If this was a weird joke of some kind she was not impressed. For a Time Lady on her 8th regeneration she was as a rule quite laid back, but she didn’t like to be made to feel a fool.

However, walking through his house it felt… empty. She’d even logged into the subwave network — with some reluctance, certain that the Master would somehow use it to figure out where she was and mail her a bomb, or something — but there’d been nothing there for quite some time. Wandering around the building she found that the droids were still mechanically keeping on top of the housework and so she located Bob the Roomba (by far the most ‘chatty’) to ask if it knew where the Seeker had gone.

“The Lord Seeker left,” the dome replied, and she sighed at the stupidly grand title.

“When? Why?” she asked, and the thing beeped and then gave her the time in rels.

Swearing under her breath (was the adorable little thing being difficult on purpose?) she patted Bob on the ‘head’ and converted the message to regular time, realising it had only been a few days. However that was as much information as she could get out of Bob — it had no clue as to where the Seeker had gone. Or why.

Trying to analyse the problem logically, the most obvious answer was almost immediate: The Doctor. The tot regularly complained about being roped into ‘helping out’ with no warning, so presumably he’d be with his uncle. Or at least, she could only hope he was there, as opposed to with one of his parents, neither of whom would be happy to see her; especially if he wasn’t there and they found some reason to blame her for his disappearance.

Not that the loathing wasn’t mutual, nevermind the uneasy truce the Seeker had brought around. The less Roda saw the Saxons, the better for everyone.

After a moment’s reflection she decided to call the boy. Mostly just to make sure he was OK, of course, but she also felt entitled to emphasise the point that she had shown up, and he hadn’t — it was petty, sure, but the tot had in the past chided her for being even five minutes late (‘You have a time machine? You literally have no excuse!’) and now hadn’t bothered to leave so much as a note.

While part of her was already running through every possible worst case scenario, another part of her was relishing the fact that for the first time in her life she had turned up on time for class (well, he’d never know otherwise) and she wasn’t going to miss the chance to make a point of that.

Which was probably not how a ‘teacher’ was supposed to behave; but then nothing about tutoring the Master’s son in solar engineering was in any way conventional, starting with the pupil himself. He was entirely too sensible and focussed for someone so young, having planned their sessions with neat precision and an actual timetable. She had a suspicion that his whole life was similarly meticulously planned and organised down to the last rel, and idly wondered what that might be like. It struck her as exceptionally dull.

What she wouldn’t have given for his freedom and opportunities at his age…

However there was no response so, sighing, she then tried calling the Doctor. Surely one of their phones had to be working? Honestly she hated the things, but Jack insisted on knowing he could get a hold of her, and somewhere down the line she’d realised that she’d grown used to expecting the same.

The Doctor (thankfully) answered straight away. Unfortunately he hadn’t seen the Seeker in weeks.

Roda frowned, biting her lip and continuing to pace around the sitting room, frustration and concern beginning to rise. “Weird. I wonder where he is then…”

“He’s… missing?” the Doctor asked, the beginnings of alarm in his voice, and Roda cursed herself.

She didn’t need the Doctor in a flap on top of everything else. Omega only knew that the Doctor in a flap was bad enough; but when he got into a flap, he had a habit of deciding that whatever had gone wrong was his fault.

She’d always found parts of the Doctor’s personality the tiniest bit grating, but somehow in their respective regenerations this time around they’d managed to just not… click. (Jack was always trying to get them to talk, but it felt like something that had to be more organic.) And so getting him to calm down before he got into a tiz became an unexpected priority on top of worrying over the Seeker’s disappearance.

“I probably just missed a message,” she lied, hastily (feeling only a little guilty). “He might even be sitting in Torchwood this instant complaining that I’m late…”

“Well let me kno- oh no, don’t touch that, the whole hive is going to- Sorry Roda, must run!”

Roda chuckled (he never changed, so at least he had that to offset the tougher stuff) then looked around and sighed again. Maybe the Seeker had just decided to take a break, or gone off to research something, or…

Making her way out to the large courtyard she turned the problem over in her mind, trying to look at it from different angles. Although the courtyard at least answered one question: his spaceship was gone, so the main difficulty was working out where he had gone.

Unfortunately this was as impossible as finding a TARDIS in a galaxy cluster… The entire universe was out there, and in theory he could be literally anywhere.

Frowning she shook her head. No, that wasn’t right. Little Mr Sensible and Organised always had a purpose for everything he did, so wherever he had gone there would be a reason. Spontaneity didn’t seem to be in his vocabulary…

Now of course it was possible he had gone off to see someone she didn’t know, except she couldn’t see how he could possibly have fitted ‘befriending random aliens’ into his schedule.

Tapping her foot impatiently, she figured she could at least call Jack — maybe the tot actually was in Torchwood, just like she’d mused. Which would be a tad ironic, but at least then she’d know he was alive. And really, of the people who might actually know where the Seeker was, the list was now Jack or the Master, which was a decision that required no thought whatsoever.

Worryingly, Jack was as clueless as she was.

“It’s not like him to just disappear,” Jack said, as Roda made a non-committal agreeing kind of noise. “And I can’t think where he’d have gone…” A pause, then he added: “Look, let me call his friends and see if they know.” Roda nodded to herself. “It’s a long shot, but you never know.”

Roda aimlessly kicked at red grass (the shade was just right. The kid had talent she had to give him that) and continued to pace until Jack rang her back. To her relief it was good news.

“He’s with his friends! Although Josh sounded… a bit weird, if I’m honest. ‘Curt’ might be more accurate. Just said that the Seeker was there and they were looking after him. They didn’t elaborate, but when I said that you were the one asking he suddenly said that you’d be welcome.”

Roda wasn’t sure what to make of this and it seemed that Jack was as lost as she, judging by his tone of voice. Not just why the Seeker needed ‘looking after’ but also why his friends had specified her company… Something was wrong, but she couldn’t begin to guess what.

The Seeker was mid-twenties or thereabouts, which for his human friends might mean ‘young adult’ but in her mind it still had a big sign flashing overhead that read ‘CHILD’. Although to be fair they were all young, human or Time Lord, and Jack had a protective streak a mile long, she could almost sense his worries over the phone. Not that she could talk.

“No problem,” she replied, heading for where she’d parked her TARDIS. “What’s the address?”

The address was a nondescript block of flats in a nondescript part of London. Roda wasn’t sure what she had expected but this somehow wasn’t it, and she walked up several flights of stairs (the lift was out of order) frown increasing.

The door was opened by a young person who looked vaguely familiar and Roda immediately felt something tugging at her senses. Were they an alien? Or… was this just the effect of working for Torchwood and constantly scanning all humans for potential threats? She did her best to appear friendly, even as she automatically looked for anything that said ‘danger’.

Focus!

Whatever they might be, they looked human. Black, clearly dyed, shortish hair which emphasised their pale skin, an over-sized purple T-shirt (or possibly a short dress) paired with skinny black jeans, numerous earrings and bracelets, and a face that was probably beautiful — except what struck Roda was the defensive air, an unspoken readiness to fight that immediately resonated with her.

“Redjay?” they asked — half statement, half question — as they looked Roda over, clearly trying to reconcile the sturdy boots, dark stained trousers, crumpled shirt and messy hair in a loose bun with whatever they were expecting.

Not unaccustomed to this reaction, she nodded. She had dressed for a day in a workshop, not making social calls, and didn’t feel like apologising.

“That’s me. But just call me Roda.”

“Thank you for coming, Roda,” the youth replied. “I’m Jamie. Please come in.”

After moving back and indicating that Roda could enter, they then closed and locked the door, with a strange determination that pinged Roda in ways that made her instantly more alert.

She wasn’t quite sure where to go — they were in a narrow, cramped hallway with several doors, and she could now sense the Seeker. The place felt… protective, and it was almost like a defensive shield was closing around her. The tot was, it was becoming clear, hiding. And, she realised, Jamie was definitely helping. Something more than human for sure, although she wasn’t sure what exactly.

Almost immediately Jamie’s defensiveness metamorphosed into a combination of hope and deep worry.

“Please…” they began, but then shook their head. “I don’t even know what to ask you to do. He… won’t let us help him, will barely talk to us, won’t… anything. We were hoping that maybe you’d be allowed to. You are like, his teacher, yes? Jack said you were a friend, but… alien.”

Their voice drifted off uncertain, as they looked Roda over again, but Roda nodded affirmation before asking the question that had been on her mind since the beginning:

“But what happened?”

Jamie smiled wryly, if not unsympathetically, although with a definite edge of despair.

“His girlfriend broke up with him. For good. Which she did before, but this time it’s just… so much worse. Not sure why. He doesn’t seem sure either. He’s just…” Jamie shook their head, clearly exhausted and uncertain. “Broken. We don’t know how to put him back together.”

This was a whole bundle of expectations that Roda was not prepared for.

But she couldn’t really run away now, besides which someone clearly needed to talk to the tot.

She followed Jamie down the short hallway of the flat. The walls were a strange off-white that seemed designed to be blandly inoffensive — not a colour anyone would pick out of choice, and the whole place echoed the same sentiment… There was a deep sense of claustrophobia, a sort of mental gloom that she could feel all around. Roda wasn’t sure how to describe it, but it was not a happy dwelling, and she had a feeling that the Seeker was the nexus.

However the sight that greeted her made her falter immediately.

He was on a sofa, curled up beneath a blanket, and he looked awful. She had always thought him fairly laid-back looks wise (his wardrobe consisting of T-shirts, jeans and trainers after all) but looking at him now — the dishevelled clothing, the messy hair, the pasty pallor of his skin — she realised that his normal attire was more akin to an image carefully tailored to look unassuming and easygoing, whilst at the same time being rigorously controlled. A control that was now entirely lacking. The effortless self-assurance — so reminiscent of the father and something she was still getting used to — was completely gone. He looked more like a child than he had when he’d been a toddler, his expression lost and somehow at the same time more world-weary than a tot barely out of his teens had any right to be. She wondered about cause and effect, and how worried she should be.

“Roda?” he said, studying her with a frown. Skaro, he looked like he’d not slept in a week. Was he actually sick? “What are you doing here?”

He turned to another youth, seated beside him on the sofa — this one all human but also very handsome, although with a darker complexion and wearing a silky floral shirt with burgundy trousers, bare feet visible — and asked: “Why is she here?”

“We had a lesson, remember?” Roda replied carefully, slowly crossing the floor. The furniture was sparse, but tasteful (wood and leather), the space small and enclosed, reinforcing the feeling of a constricted sanctuary. Apart from the sofa there was an armchair, a small table, a cabinet, and some sort of TV screen on the wall on which something peculiar and fast-paced was being displayed. The floor-length red curtains, which managed to clash thoroughly with the bland walls, provided the only splash of colour and were tightly drawn so as not to let any daylight in.

The youth on the sofa sent her a grateful look before getting to his feet and silently leaving, taking Jamie with them, although as Jamie brushed past her there was a brief ‘Thank you’ whispered in her mind, which almost made her jump.

She blinked and did her best to ignore the general weirdness, instead focussing on the Seeker who was still looking at her as if he found it difficult to process the simple fact of her being there.

“Was that today?” he asked, then paused, hesitant. “What day is today? I… lost time.”

Roda found herself practically speechless. Young not-the-Master ‘Timekeeping-is-Practically-my-Religion’ didn’t know what day it was? Worse still — a Time Lord didn’t know what day it was? Something was seriously wrong.

“Seeker… what happened?”

He looked at her like he found the question difficult to understand; then swallowed painfully, briefly meeting her eyes and then abruptly looking away.

“Didn’t they tell you? My girlfriend broke up with me. For good. Sounds… banal, I know.”

“Hmm.”

A wry smile as he flung out his arms, apparently rallying.

“Welcome to my pity party where we sit on the sofa and watch old meme compilations.”

Roda decided now was not the time to ask what a ‘meme’ was.

“Participants: Me. Upsides so far: Managed to stop drinking before I actually succeeded in killing myself. I presume regenerating in my mid-twenties isn’t advisable. But I haven’t ruled it out.”

“Wait — no, hold on.” Roda’s eyes went wide. “Back up.”

The sentiment threw her — whatever she had been expecting to deal with, it hadn’t been a casually expressed suicidal ideation because of a breakup. She remembered a girlfriend had been mentioned at some point, but that had been a few years ago, surely? And as much as she vehemently disliked his father and had never been entirely certain about the way that the Seeker had come to be — or her role in his continued survival, which still gave her nightmares —  she certainly didn’t want him to kill himself.

“I…” She hesitated, chewed her lip again. The skin was beginning to break, and she knew it was a habit she had to kick, but at least it was relatively harmless. “Just… don’t.” She ran a hand through her hair, letting it fall in her face. “Don’t do that.” She was aware that it was a very flat answer, and hoped he knew that her words were well-meant, even if they came out slightly angry.

In response he merely shrugged.

“I’ll try not to. It just hurts so much I can’t-” He broke off. “Being someone else would help. Or so I gather.”

She found herself wincing in empathy. “It… it does. You’re not wrong. But it doesn’t change anything, uh....” She rapped the side of her head with her knuckles. “Up here. The problems don’t just go away.”

He smiled joylessly.

“Figures. And I suppose on the plus side I have discovered the one subject I am useless at.”

Under better circumstances Roda would have rolled her eyes. He blithely continued, mockingly raising his hand as if in a pretend toast:

“Here’s to Love, the field where I don’t just get a failing grade, I occupy the opposite scale — like… I literally make things worse.”

Roda had not been ‘in love’ for quite some time. (Jack’s utter… Jackness notwithstanding. It was impossible not to love him, not that she thought she’d ever used those words exactly.) That, and she had never exactly had a relationship end peacefully since she was a tot herself; not, of course, by design. But more to the point — all of it, put together, left her utterly unprepared to figure out how to respond in a way that was both of any help at all, and didn’t make it all about herself. She wanted to do something…. But what? She wasn’t Jack, or the Doctor, or anything approaching a parental figure — all people that he was evidently deliberately avoiding. Meaning that right now, he would have to make do with her.

“So I see,” she said eventually as she took a seat on the end of the sofa, certain that the response was utterly insufficient and of little help to the mess of a youth at the other end.

He tilted his head, looking entirely too cynical for someone so young.

“Oh Rodageitmososa. You have no idea.”

Chapter Text

Taking a seat on the sofa Roda waited for a response that never came. The tot merely seemed to look straight through her as if he’d lost his train of thought — yet another hitherto unheard of occurrence.

Even as a toddler his mind had been razor sharp and he had solidly refused to get sidetracked no matter the topic of conversation. Jack had once suggested this might be due to his Time Lord nature, and Roda had made sure to disabuse him of that idea: “Sorry Jack, but I can assure you it’s all him! The kid’s weird.”

The tightly drawn red curtains gave the room a gloomy, oppressive feel, like the perpetual crimson dusk of a dying planet and, despite providing the only light in the enclosed space, the screen on the wall didn’t help. It was now displaying some sort of screensaver, and as the images changed the tot’s face was lit up, the flickering digital illumination eerie and oddly unsettling as it fluttered across his near-lifeless features.

Eventually she spoke again, deciding that forcing a reaction was probably needed.

“Seeker?”

“Hm? Sorry, got lost in my head again. Not… ‘with it’, as they say. Still got a lot of toxins in the system. Although the toxins from outside sources are at least fairly straightforward to purge…”

He paused, eyes narrowing. “It is not what goes into your body that defiles you; you are defiled by what comes from your heart.”

“I’m sorry?” Roda felt continually more lost; whatever mental leaps he was conducting made no sense.

“Hm? It’s from the Bible. Mark 7:15. Very astute observation. I’ve been pondering it lately… It’s entirely too apt.”

It was like talking to fog and she frowned in confusion. She probably had a copy of the Bible somewhere, but it wasn’t something she’d read. If she was unlucky he’d start talking about his dissertation.

“Seeker. You are talking in riddles.”

He didn’t disagree, instead he simply nodded to himself.

“My head is a riddle.” A beat. “I am a riddle.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong about that.

“And I don’t know if I want to solve it… I’m scared what the answer might be.”

Roda made a frustrated noise, pinching the bridge of her nose. Like uncle, like nephew, apparently.

“Right now I don’t even know what the question is…” She ran her hands over her face. “Look, your girlfriend broke up with you, something which clearly upset you a lot. And then you decided to come here and stay with your friends, because you were worried you would do something stupid… it’s — well, it’s worrying, but I don’t understand why that’s a riddle. Apart from not telling anyone where you were, it all seems pretty straightforward to me.” She tilted her head. “But you keep hinting at something else and it makes no sense.”

He tilted his head to follow hers, his focus slowly returning to some approximation of his usual demeanour. His features became green; orange, white; red — then he spoke:

“Very well, I suppose I could confess my sins to you as well.”

Roda raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything and let him continue.

“Two things before we start — One: you can’t fix it, the Doctor already tried. Two: On no account let my father know I am here.”

“Oh yes,” said Roda, concern at the back of her mind as she wrinkled her nose and almost, but not quite, growled. “Because I frequently keep in touch with your father. I know!” She snapped her fingers. “I’ll make a note not to bring it up over coffee next Wednesday. How does that sound?”

The Seeker shot her a look that was, for a second, his normal self. “Sarcasm does not become you, Redjay.”

“Yeah, well,” she snorted, “you would make a stupid request.”

“True, true…” A pause, as he looked past her again, the normality vanishing.

“I didn’t just come here to hide, or to stop myself, although I have tried to tell myself that. No, I needed someone. And they’re my someones, in every way. They don’t stop me thinking about her, but they do refocus my mind in a way no one else can.”

He closed his eyes, let his head fall back against the sofa.

“And Skaro knows I can’t hurt them more than I already have.”

The words made Roda sit up more straight — what was this? For the first time she tried to take a step back mentally and make an attempt to look at the situation objectively; the cocoon-like feel of the place, the strange, claustrophobic telepathic field at the edge of her senses, and something about the Doctor not being able to ‘fix it’…

Still lost, but by now suspicious and beginning to feel more than a little creeped out, she asked:

“What do you mean hurt?”

He lifted his head again. “Let me show you, it’s quicker that way,” then — before she could stop him — he called out: “Josh!”

A moment later the youngster who’d been sitting on the sofa when she arrived came back into the room. The one who had been just human… Roda resisted the urge to check, with her hackles raised as they were, but she was beginning to worry about everything.

The youth sat down on the low table in front of them and Alex smiled; the saddest, most bitter smile she had seen in many centuries as he shot her a strangely candid look.

“I really hope you won’t run away screaming, but if you do I won’t blame you…”

It was all very strange and she adopted a stern and guarded you-still-could-be-your-father expression on her face. She had always tried so hard not to think of him as the Master’s son; to remind herself that he was a student, a friend, someone that Jack trusted, and if Jack trusted him, then she was always inclined to trust Jack’s judgement where her own might be clouded. But had it all been a matter of time, really? She didn’t want to assume the worst… however she was now feeling increasingly unsettled.

“Seeker… what did you do?”

He reached out, took the youth’s hand. She noticed the look the youth sent the tot — it reminded her of something, but she couldn’t quite place it.

Then the Seeker spoke again. “Read our minds.”

She blinked slowly. What was this madness? The tot was a hermetically sealed unit, his mental walls far more developed and trained than was natural. Presumably because of his upbringing, but still this was unprecedented and thus disconcerting in and of itself. And to say it so blatantly in front of his friend was a whole other issue.

“What have you told them?” She almost stood up, one hand clasping the arm of the couch so tightly her fingertips ached, the leather creaking under her grip. “Do they know… what I am?” She looked from the tot to his friend (‘Josh’ she reminded herself. Josh. He had a name.) and back again when he didn’t answer immediately. Rassilon, did Jack know they knew? If he did, he could have at least warned her!

“…Seeker!”

His look was one of benign patience. Or as benign as he could look in the half-gloom.

“Read our minds and you’ll see.”

Unwilling to indulge the madness and yet seeing no alternative she reached forward, laying a hand to each temple and closing her eyes, wondering what on earth she was getting herself into (and if she wanted to) — and then they flew open again as she took onboard what she could immediately sense.

“How did you…?”

They weren’t even hiding it… Lowering her hands she stared from one to the other in shock, the oddly shared mind (all three of them, the two youngsters, one not even in the room, and the Seeker) and tried to gather her thoughts.

She didn’t know why it threw her. It wasn’t… it wasn’t impossible. Was it that she’d been severed from the Matrix for so long that she couldn’t imagine a connection anything like it? The fear of being controlled, of being owned; of being remembered as Rassilon’s? Of how he had almost had her. How the Master’s attitude was all too familiar.

The Seeker had… she didn’t really know what he had done, or how, and — even though she knew that she wasn’t actually scared of him — the understanding opened up a pit in her stomach that made her want to back away.

She forced herself not to. (‘I really hope you won’t run away screaming…’) He was a mess. She couldn’t just leave him. And then it hit her. For the first time in a while, she remembered how young he was...

“How? Oh I can answer that,” Josh replied, smiling impishly as he reached out to lay a hand to her temple, before the Seeker swatted it away.

“No! She doesn’t want to see, you muppet! Christ, what happened to ‘biddable’?”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Josh’s smile deepened and he leaned into the Seeker’s space, too intimate by far as the Seeker in turn froze, dread on his face.

Roda’s whole body tensed like a dam about to break, but she wasn’t about to run away from a bunch of tots just because she didn’t know what was going on. (Even if she had calculated exactly how to make her escape should she need to.)

Josh looked deep into the Seeker’s eyes, voice smouldering.

“Hey, we want to do your bidding.”

If it hadn’t been for the fact that she was sitting at the very end of the sofa Roda might have taken an actual step back at this point, visceral PTSD flaring up. For a moment, she could hardly focus on what was being said around her, or the situation at hand. Instead, she felt like she was back on Gallifrey again, young and chastened. The day she had been… careless.

It was many lives ago now, but the memory was still vivid; the disciplining that had followed her disobedience seared on her mind. (Rassilon looming over her — gone was the President, gone was the politician, gone was the guardian. In his place was the Commander. The man who could start and finish wars.) And that understanding — that people had different sides and could transform from friend to foe if you did not measure up — that was a lesson she had taken to hearts, one of the reasons she found it so difficult to trust.

Her fingers brushed her throat and she swallowed hard and hoped no one noticed. The incident was why she had left her home, and the moment that had changed her life forever, and damned her. The day she had realised that she could not be what people wanted her to be, and how much it hurt. And yet they… wanted to feel that way? Wanting to ‘do his bidding’? She couldn’t wrap her head around it at all.

“But you keep saying no,” Josh added with something akin to a pout, bringing her back to the present. The Seeker made a sound like a small injured animal, physically recoiling into the sofa — looking much like Roda felt, rather than the grim spectre of Rassilon which she was trying to banish. Josh sighed and stood up straight, catching Roda’s eyes before she could decide where to go or how to react.

“Can you talk sense into him? Why is he here, if he won’t let us — anything.”

He made an exasperated gesture that she couldn’t decipher, but the instinctive concern she felt for the youths helped Roda to focus. They were tots who needed her help — not a threat. Swallowing her memories, she tried to look sympathetic.

“Why do you think I can help?”

He sighed. “I don’t know. But you’re Jack’s friend, yes?”

“I am,” she began, but the Seeker sighed and waved a hand. “Josh. Go.”

And without another word the youth left, making Roda shudder involuntarily.

After a moment the Seeker sat up again, misery like a shell in the gloom.

“And there you go. It was an accident, but that’s not really an excuse. I just… wanted to let my friends have a treat, and ended up breaking them in the process. I can show you if you like and try to avoid the more compromising details…”

Carefully taking a deep breath Roda shook her head. “No… I’d rather… no. I’m sorry.”

She was aware that she might sound harsh, but she had to be honest.

He dragged a hand across his face.

“Thanks. I’ve already been through it all with the Doctor, which was about as much fun as you can imagine. The basic truth is that I’m just a screw-up, and a dangerous one at that. Incidentally this- them-” he waved a hand, “-isn’t recent. I fucked them up a few years ago — after Allison broke up with me the first time — and then I dropped them like a hot potato because I was scared out of my mind.”

Roda winced, but he continued unaffected.

“Had to ask the Doctor for help to see if I could undo it, but that was a dead end. Instead I went looking for all the best mental training I could, to make sure I’d never do anything like it again. So, um, yeah, that reminds me — I’m about two years older than you think. I took time out, quite literally.”

The short monologue did much to calm her. It had been a mistake, and he had tried to rectify it… so at least it wasn’t intentional. But that it happened at all — was something that could happen — still chilled her to the bone, even if she could give him the benefit of the doubt. He was in no fit state to lie.

He paused, before slowly continuing.

“And I was… doing better. Like, I was learning to live with it — the break-up I mean — I went back to you for more teaching, was getting on with my actual education. But then came graduation and… Allison said maybe. Knowing what I am, what I’d done, everything. No more lies, just me, and she said maybe.”

It suddenly made a lot more sense. Roda sighed and felt like reaching out and stroking his hair comfortingly. She was reminded of her own tothood, the companionship and understanding she had found with Peri, all her own repression of needs, the longing to feel wanted. The way circumstance had ended their relationship, but that she had continued to love him. She was coming out of the immediate trauma his words had caused and beginning to see where they overlapped.

A deep sigh. “Hope is a terrible thing. Guess I was lying to myself about doing better, because she sent me a letter telling me that it’s over, properly, for good, and I drowned my sorrows until I nearly passed out — it was that or burning something, and I don’t trust myself — and then… I came here. Because they’re mine.”

Another pause, and she felt the need to say something:

“I don’t think I need to tell you how that is a slippery slope.”

With something between a sob and a laugh he looked up at her once more.

“It’s messed up on so many levels I can’t even count them. Josh and Jamie… they’re solace, at the same time as they’re a constant reminder of how I’ve violated them, except they can’t understand it. My worst nightmare looking at me with adoration. Make of that what you will.”

She turned this over in her head.

“Well. Yes. It’s… you’re a tot. You’re still… figuring out these skills. Rassilon, I played Eighth Man Bound, I can’t judge you for making stupid telepathic mistakes.” She paused, trying to work out what his friends wanted of him, and of her. Why they’d let her in. “But did they call it a violation?”

“No. But then they wouldn’t.”

“Can you be sure of that?” Roda raised an eyebrow.

“That’s part of it. Look, Allison...”

He pressed his lips together, radiating pain once more despite his face being mostly in shadow.

“The first time she broke up with me it was because of this exact thing. She’s smart, and once she understood what we can do — Time Lords I mean — she ran as far and as fast as she could. Because she realised that I could do this. Make her mine… Like what dad did to mum. A willing puppet.”

“The Master is insane. You’re not.”

He waved a hand.

“That’s… beside the point.”

Roda did a hand wobble, trying to communicate ‘eh’, but she wasn’t sure if he was paying attention. “Allison wasn’t wrong, it was tempting as hell. I literally asked Jack to stop me, just in case. Where I went wrong was thinking that it could only ever be a violation. What I did wasn’t violent, it was supposed to be a gift. I was just too… ignorant to understand what I was doing. And how permanent it would be.”

A beat, then his eyes narrowed in a familiar way.

“No wait, scratch that. You’re my teacher, so let me try to analyse this properly.”

Roda quietly half-laughed. ‘Here we go…’ she thought. This was much more the tot she had come to know. Letting him talk was clearly the best way forward.

He stared ahead. But this time he wasn’t lost to the distance, but clearly focussing his mind the way she had come to expect.

“The ways in which my mess reflects upon those who raised me… or not, as the case might be. So far, my immediate response to loss or rejection appears to be sex, drugs & rock’n’roll — or rather, since sex & drugs both proved disastrous, just drinking myself to oblivion. I know self-harm isn’t great, but it’s better than harming others which appears to be my father’s way of coping.”

Roda nodded, the year on the Valiant first in her mind, followed by so many more examples from the years.

“You’re not wrong.” A pause. “There’s… rehab. But that — well, I have my poisons too.”

He lifted an eyebrow.

“Are you suggesting we send my father to murder rehab?”

Her jaw dropped as he looked at her, completely serious, before biting back a smile and she found herself half-smiling in response. Any emotion other than heartbreak was welcome.

But then the smile dropped.

“But let’s carry on — this is where Jack comes in. Back then, when Allison left me the first time, I asked him for advice on how to cope and he…” a sigh, “He sent me Josh and Jamie. Of course he had no idea what might happen — and he still doesn’t know, please don’t tell him — but that’s the solace part. And sex is a lot better than alcohol or drugs, as long as I don’t hurt anyone. Except I did, and hel-lo guilt. The Doctor has been a world class instructor on that front.”

“Survivor’s guilt.” The comment was mostly to herself, but she understood the Doctor, oh yes.

“On his part, sure. On my part, it’s mostly that I am secretive, manipulative, dangerous and arrogant which is... what I was brought up to be. I get gold stars that’s for sure. So tell me teacher, what do you recommend?”

He leaned back into the sofa, tilting his head.

“I appreciate that this isn’t solar engineering. You’re welcome to pass.”

Roda took a deep breath and rested her head on the back of the couch. What was she supposed to say? On the one hand, had this happened to her she would be running for the vortex, or drawing her gun. The idea of being owned, so connected and… what word had he used? Biddable. It was her idea of a personal hell, and reminded her so much of… other Time Lords that she could practically hear their voices overlaid with Alex’s.

On the other hand… here was a tot. A youngster. Someone who had not had the upbringing that every other surviving Time Lord in the universe had. Here was a Time Lord who was (in her mind) fundamentally human… and whether or not he was, he was hardly more than a child. A mature one, sure, but he had made a mistake. And he knew he had made a mistake, was beating himself up for it. It didn’t take a telepath to know that his remorse, his guilt, his self-pity, they were all genuine. (And even then, he was giving off the vibes almost like an aura. She could feel it in the whole flat. A deep pool of misery that infected everything.)

In short, he’d been an idiot. But he hadn’t done it on purpose. And now he had blocked off his father, his mother, the Doctor, even Jack. She wouldn’t have made the list if the human and the half-alien (which was a whole other question) hadn’t allowed her in. She had no doubt about that. And she was being asked to do something, not just by the Seeker but by the others as well.

It was like turning up to a lecture without her robes on. She couldn’t just leave, but on the other hand, she was sitting here without any tools or handy notes. As if there could ever be an ‘Idiot’s Guide to Comforting Your Over-Thinking Genius’.

“If you want me to tell you that you’re not an idiot,” she settled on, before she could think too hard about the words, “then I won’t.” She reached out to stroke his hair, hoping he wouldn’t lean away, and wondering if she could bully him into a hot shower or something. “And if you want a miracle solution or a psych analysis then I’m not the Time Lord for that.”

She sighed. “But if you want engineering, then think of it like… calibration. No one — not even genius Time Tots who take all of the university courses at once — builds a machine that works right the first time. You have to test it, and tinker, and take risks, and burn yourself.” She wasn’t sure where the words were all coming from, but she let them flow. “And even when it’s perfect, it’s not, because you can make the best sonic device in the seven systems, but if you give it to a Scendelesion they’ll blow it up doing something stupid just because they don’t use the brains the Loom gave them.”

A pause. “Or, you know. Omega got an omega grade, too. No one is perfect. What I’m trying to say is… you’re none of those things. You just… have them in you. Cogs and synapses and electrodes and capacitors. Do you think I’d be here if you were your father? Or even the Doctor? He’s almost as infuriating sometimes. Like a melted ice cream. Anyway. You know my… morals. Would I be giving you the time of day if I thought you were somehow evil?”

She stopped, waiting for a response, but he just shook his head, silently. Acknowledging her point, but not saying anything.

“Skaro, Karn and Mondas, no. And your… friends,” she looked in the direction that the human had wandered off, “they wouldn’t be here either. Because they’re not idiots, and frankly,” she folded her arms, “you’re treating them like idiots. Tied to you or not, co-dependent or not, if they were angry or hurt or scared — even if they didn’t know it — they’d be leaving then returning. It would be a vicious cycle. Believe me. I know. Abuse is…”

She trailed off, somewhat unwilling to share any personal details and hoping he’d get the idea.

“This is not abuse. Trust me on that. This is a mistake and drinking yourself to regeneration on someone else’s couch is not going to make up for that mistake, tot. That’s a really fucking terrible apology.”

He looked stumped — a look she had never seen on his face before.

“I… hadn’t thought of it like that. You are a good teacher.”

Roda winked, channelling her inner Jack. “Don’t act so surprised. And besides. If you think they should have free will — which to me, they do — shouldn’t you listen to what they have to say?”

Something that was very close to a pout. It was difficult to tell in the red half-darkness, but it definitely looked like a pout.

“Well I’m bloody useless at humility. Guess there’s no time like the present, huh?”

“If it gets you off this sofa.”

He snorted, eyes unreadable in the gloom.

“It gets me into their bed. And I can’t-”

He looked away abruptly, voice almost breaking as the glib surface cracked.

She hesitated for a moment, but as he had turned silent she did her best to talk sense. He was so wrapped up in his issues (and they were clearly legion) that he was failing to address the most immediate problems.

“Could you start with the bathroom? Before curling up like a — what’s that spiky animal? Hedgehog? Anyway.” She was trying to tease rather than dictate. “Maybe use that brain of yours?” A sigh. “If you want me to fuck off, I will. But I’d feel much better knowing you’re not wasting away in self-pity.”

He smiled at that, a sad little melancholy smile.

“But I’m so good at it. Look… I have spent my entire life so far being mature. Everyone around me — except for my human friends — is so old. I wish… I had someone like me.”

She raised a slightly smarmy eyebrow. “Like the other half-alien — Arcateenian?” He made an absentminded ‘yes’ kind of noise. “So yeah. How are you any different from the half-Arcateenian living on earth, in disguise, in the next room, that — apparently — loves you?”

“Exactly not like that!” Anger flared, and any emotion rather than guilt or grief was welcome, even if the sparks were uncomfortable.

“That was Josh’s argument too, back when he first met Jamie. And I was wrong to turn him down, because I did help Jamie once we connected, but the similarities are… negligible. Also sie doesn’t love me, sie worships me. Before this whole mess there was friendship and basic attraction, although that goes for Josh as well. What I mean is that I am lonely. You all have a shared past and a home.”

It stung, and it wasn’t entirely true. But… he had no way of knowing.

“You said that I’m only a kid, that everyone makes mistakes growing up. But I am not like the other kids. There are no kids like me. Not anymore. I am…”

A pause. “I am a cuckoo. And my mistakes are paid for by the smaller chicks. Pushed out or broken. I’m too big for this world, these people. They aren’t safe with me, and my hearts aren’t safe with them. Although I guess I’ll stay in this nest for a little longer. Like you said, I owe them staying for a while.”

Roda wasn’t entirely sure what to do with this statement, being unfamiliar with what kind of bird a cuckoo might be, but at least he seemed a bit more focussed. If still feeling sorry for himself.

She wasn’t sure what else she could really do… the rest was up to him.

However she was definitely going to talk to the half-Arcateenian before she left. She was recalling something Jack had said once and was keen to know more.

At that point the door opened to reveal both the youngsters, a tray held in Josh’s hands on which Roda could see mugs, and behind him Jamie looked to be carrying a plate of something.

“We made waffles,” Josh smiled. “Waffles are nice, remember?”

“I remember,” the Seeker replied softly, looking up at his friends with a look Roda couldn’t quite decipher, but there was definite affection and love somewhere behind the guarded eyes. It helped to calm the little voice that was whispering ‘But what if he turns into his father after all?’ at the back of her mind.

Sensing that the waffles signalled the end of their talk, Roda made the choice to move to the armchair. Once settled, she took the cup that was handed to her, blowing gently on the hot surface of the liquid as the waffles were being passed round, and felt that maybe everything might turn out okay after all. There was something immensely reassuring and domestic about the scene, all three youngsters side by side on the sofa.

Then Josh turned towards the Seeker, catching his eyes and doing that thing that Roda recognised as one of Jack’s tricks — the conflation of flirting and entreaty; a near sure-fire way of getting his way.

“Seeker, bestie, darling, can we open the curtains? It’s so dark in here that I’m worried I’ll eat a coaster by mistake…”

The tot sighed, then inclined his head indicating acquiescence, and Josh eagerly jumped to his feet, mouthing ‘Thank you’ at Roda — she wasn’t sure that she had really done much, although if it’d taken them three days to get daylight back in the flat she was happy to have moved things along.

As natural light flooded the room, causing the Seeker to flinch and pull the blanket higher, Roda couldn’t help but curb a smile.

Yes, the kids would be alright. Whether or not they knew it yet, they were going to survive.

Chapter Text

Elsewhere

The Doctor was grateful that he was no longer ‘the last’ Time Lord. Remembered far too well the piercing, ice-cold loneliness that had threatened to overwhelm the guilt back in those solitary days after the War. (‘It’s simply what you deserve’, his conscience had whispered to him. ‘The pain is your just reward for what you did.’)

But what he had done to deserve raising the child of his ‘best enemy’ he couldn’t work out. He loved the boy as if his own, and the sheer fact of a Time Lord child was a joy and a wonder that still felt unreal. But the joy was perpetually tempered by the fact of the boy’s parentage and said parents’ constant interference.

And then there was Roda. The Doctor had been pleased when she had decided to give the tot a chance, even going so far as to become an unofficial tutor for the past few years.

The downside of this arrangement became evident when the Doctor’s day was interrupted by an angry Redjay marching into his TARDIS and demanding answers for his parenting choices.

He had only just finished saving a hive of newly hatched Menoptra — battling Cybermen in the process — and had been looking forward to a bath and a nice cuppa. He had already taken off his jacket, throwing it over one of the seats ready for taking a proper break. He’d been on his feet for a long time and the adrenaline was beginning to ebb out.

So having sudden, unexpected demands thrown his way made all his defences spring up — especially when he realised what she was yelling about as she circled the console, like yet another adversary with a grudge and a need for reprisal.

Nothing in his life had prepared him for dealing with anything like what the Seeker had done to his friends — on top of which the boy’s angry rebellion had vanished entirely, meaning that the Doctor had been faced with a traumatised child, filled with doubt and afraid of his own shadow. It had been a nightmare of almost infinite proportions, and he was not surprised that the spectre had resurfaced. But he had not been prepared to deal with criticism.

With a deep internal sigh, and trying to keep the console between them, he did his best to establish what had actually happened and how Roda knew, but she couldn’t be kept off the main topic for long. She looked as frazzled as he felt, her hair making its way out of her loose bun and she hadn’t even bothered to put on a jacket.

Two people in their shirtsleeves, unsettled and unbalanced — yup, it was a perfect recipe for a happy outcome, he thought wryly. Thank you for the ambush, Roda!

“How could you keep that a secret?” she asked — as if his main duty hadn’t been to the boy, full stop. He stopped moving for a moment, instead leaning against the console and studying her cooly, titling his head so he could see her behind the time rotor, before speaking. He had suspected her response, and knew he had been right.

“Let’s say your reaction right now isn’t doing anything to make me regret that decision.”

Her jaw dropped in indignation. “And how am I supposed to react?! You know what he’s done — the Master — what he did to all of us.”

The Doctor rubbed his face. No, he was so not ready to deal with this.

“Of course I know what he did! I was there too, as you might recall. But the boy is not his father.”

Clearly this was (also) the wrong thing to say. Roda threw up her hands in angry frustration:

“Obviously! That’s not the point. You didn’t think any of us deserved to know that the Seeker did something so — so fundamentally like his father? By mistake!? What if the Master found out first? What if he’d got to him?”

Deep breath.

“You know the Seeker’s not like that, and besides—“

She didn’t let him finish, once more beginning to circle, forcing him to retreat.

Trailing his fingertips against the controls he wondered if there was anywhere else this talk could have taken place. He could feel the TARDIS murmuring unhappily, but truly, there was nowhere to run to.

“Of course I bloody do, Doctor. I went to him. I sat with him. And I’ll go back to him, whenever he calls. I love him too. I can’t blame him for this, not when he clearly hates himself. But you knew. And you left us all to find out for ourselves when we could have… I don’t know. Helped him? Run away? It’s not your secret to share, I get that. But it isn’t yours to keep, either.”

It was, not to put too fine a point on it, massively unhelpful not to know exactly what the Seeker had told her.

“Roda…”

“Don’t ‘Roda’ me. I trust him. I still can’t trust you. Because you… you know these things. And you make your call.”

“Roda!”

He forced himself to stand still, waiting until she was in front of him, belatedly realising that he needed her to get out of whatever headspace she was in, by whichever means necessary (and he didn’t have a lot of options). Yelling at each other wasn’t doing either of them any favours, and how could he explain that ‘making things his call’ was sometimes the only thing possible? (Something-something-Time-War, having to make that call, why didn’t she understand that he couldn’t talk about it…)

So. Time to try to put things a little more straight. He put on his most reasonable face and pressed his palms together, possibly in an unconscious prayer for her to show a little understanding, and looked into her angry, guarded eyes. (He tried to ignore where a cyber-blast had scorched his shirt cuff and part of his wrist. His skin was tingling unpleasantly and he ought to check for for burns.)

“Listen. He told me in confidence. I don't know what he's like now, but back then…” he paused, “It must have been four years ago? For him, I mean. He was in shock, more terrified than you can imagine… And the things he shared—” he paused again, remembering it all far too well and wishing he didn’t. “—intimate details no child would want to share with a parental figure unless absolutely desperate, trust me. And he implored me not to tell anyone. Not even Jack…”

He hoped this would explain the severity of the situation to her. Jack was ‘the big brother’, the one the Seeker always ran to. Except this time.

“You talked about what the Master did to us,” he continued. “Believe me, what he has done to his son is worse. It haunts me. I can only imagine how the tot feels. We were mostly just hurt.”

She folded her arms, hostility returning.

“Right, this new face of mine was a cosmetic choice. Signed up for being a lab rat, too.”

The Doctor held up a hand. He wished he could touch her, reassure her, without the absolute certainty that she’d interpret it as manipulation or… something.

“Don’t. Physical pain, torture, all the tricks he played…”

“Yes. I remember.”

Would she ever let him finish a sentence?

“It was a year of hell, but.” He hesitated, recalling the unlocked memory the boy had shared, the visceral horror of realising exactly how the father had attacked at the exact most vulnerable moment. It made him sick all over again, and he was sure the Seeker had not shared that part. If he had, the Master would probably be as full of arrows as a depiction of St Valentine. “I won't go into details of what the boy shared, but you know how manipulative the Master can be. Imagine what he could do to a child.”

(The tot had only been two years old… The glimpse of what the Master considered ‘parenting’ was enough to make him nauseous every time he remembered.)

Roda threw her hands up.

“That’s my whole point! We could have helped him sooner. But if we’re all in the dark, we wouldn’t know to watch out for Mr I’m-the-Master-and-even-my-son-will-obey-me.”

He had done his best to stay calm, but it was getting difficult and his own frustration began to shine through.

“Excuse me for presuming that you are well aware of what the Master is capable of, or what he wants for his son. Plus, you’re an adult and you can look after yourself. My duty is to the boy. It’s a lot more complicated than you know, and there are reasons I could never tell.”

“Duty this, duty that. That’s my whole point. Since Gallifrey’s gone you’re, what — judge, jury, all of it? I thought the point was he was going to be raised in a family.”

It took him a few seconds to hear what she said after ‘judge, jury, all of it’. He had stepped into that role and that fact haunted him every day. Could there have been another way? But he knew what the High Council had been planning, he couldn’t have acted otherwise… He felt like snarling that she was welcome to the burden if she wanted it.

(‘No more’ the voice was rasping at the back of his mind, and he felt as if he caught himself in a reflective surface he’d see that face looking back…)

She had never played that card — the ‘You murdered our whole race!’, not quite — and he wasn’t sure what he would do if she ever did. He felt it skimming along under the surface of every conversation they had, continually dreading the possibility; apprehension colouring their every encounter.

Wait. Wait she’d said something about family. He forced himself to hear what she’d said, but he was still shaking inside, lashing out like a wounded animal. But coldly, because he was very, very good at hiding his still bleeding injuries.

“A family you refused to be a part of until very recently! And I don’t blame you, but you can’t demand access retroactively.”

She almost took a step back. “I know! I know. I know I’m being… unreasonable. But you could have warned us. Said something. Instead I got to be blindsided by the Seeker telling me things he couldn’t even begin to realise how far back they hurt.”

Well, they were all the walking wounded, weren’t they? He tilted his head, knowing he ought to reach out somehow and yet unable to do so. After all, how many of those things were because of him?

“Well, you’re not exactly an over-sharer yourself. I wouldn’t want to presume to know your triggers.”

She practically rolled her eyes.

“Sorry, would you like an itinerary for the bits you didn’t see that year? Maybe I should point out on the doll where my tothood hurt me?”

“Now you’re just being irrational,” he shot back, feeling petty and hating himself for it, which probably made his voice even more standoffish than otherwise.

“Because I don’t know how to feel!” she replied, looking at him with those too-honest eyes that he could never hold for any length of time.

He looked away.

“…fine. I understand it blindsided you, but there was never a way to clue you in without breaking his trust.”

She went quiet and he sighed, realising that he might finally have gotten through to her and immediately regretting how he’d spoken. “Look I’m… sorry. Let’s just say that there are layers to this. Josh and Jamie are just the most visible outcome, but the Seeker is battling a lot of other things too.” He tried a smile, like an olive branch: “But I'm glad he's talking to you. It’s progress.”

“Hm…”

She was now looking thoughtful, and — figuring that she probably had a point about being forewarned and forearmed — he then added: “Incidentally, the Master knows. Josh and Jamie gave the game away at Graduation. He’ll be over the moon that the Seeker’s gone back to them.” He rubbed his eyes, feeling old and tired. “And the boy was doing so well…”

For whatever reason she breezed straight past actually getting the information she had demanded from the start and latched onto the youngsters.

“They aren’t the problem. Obviously they want to help, it didn’t take an idiot for me to see that. It’s just— oh for Gallifrey’s sake, you’re not listening, I’m not listening…”

He barely heard her, turning the words over in his head, speaking slowly, almost to himself.

“They aren’t the problem, but they are the problem.”

She shook her head, because God forbid she agree with anything.

“I don’t think so. Tots make mistakes — and yes, I know I’ve just been off on a whole thing. But that’s expected… look. I don’t know what I wanted out of this conversation. But what matters is that the Seeker thinks he’s a monster, and — and I don’t know. No one told him sooner that he wasn’t. And because I have no idea — as you’ve made abundantly clear — I have no idea how to help.”

He didn’t even know where to start, but the accusation hit him hard and he froze in indignation, his reply tightlipped and coldly furious.

“I would like you to not presume my help so inadequate, or that I haven’t spent the past four years telling him he is not his father. As a matter of fact he spent two of those years rigorously training to prevent any such thing happening again. His idea, not mine. I have raised him since he was a baby, fighting against his parents’ influence every single step of the way.”

She pulled a tired hand through her hair, voice soft.

“Yeah… He’s a good kid.” The thought seemed to have flipped a switch of some sort. She suddenly looked tired and defeated.

“You’re right. I am an outsider. I’m not part of the family, I never was. I couldn’t have been, the Master would never have allowed it, and you probably didn’t want a dangerous criminal in his life, either. So we’re getting nowhere. I’m glad he trusted you. It’s good he can trust you. But I should go.”

Oh great, now he felt even worse. It was like the Master could reach through them, poisoning everything. He could almost see the mercurial eyes smiling, gleefully delighting in the foment that was spreading.

Forcing down the anger, he tried to search for a place where they might communicate.

“Roda…” he started, uncertain. He leaned against the central panel with one hand, noting the black streaks of soot and oil on his knuckles and flashing back to explosions and fighting and Menoptra screaming in pain and the stomp of Cyberboots-

“Doctor?” she replied, quietly, and he was back in the room, almost growling in frustration. It was like arguing with a yo-yo:

“Could you just stop being so… defeatist for just one moment?”

She did a hollow-sounding chuckle, as if trying to laugh the whole thing off.

“Doctor, you just said the same thing yourself. I can’t make demands.”

Heavens above, how was she so frustrating? He waved his arms around, trying not to yell.

“That’s not what I meant!” Deep breath, speak carefully. He pressed his palms together again, tried his best to look as imploring as possible: “Look, the one thing I know is that the boy is — not surprisingly — incredibly slow to trust, and to share. If he’s trusting you, then you’re part of his family. It’s that simple. Stop with the pity party already.”

Roda was looking at her feet.

“It’s not — I hadn’t meant to… I’m sorry. I’m being a git, aren’t I.”

Personally he would have gone with ‘infuriating’, but that was neither here nor there. He tried to take a step back mentally, look at the scene with detachment:

“I think if the Seeker were here he’d tell us both off for all the drama.”

“I don’t think you’re wrong,” she replied, then did a small half-laugh, which at least sounded more like an actual laugh. “But I really should go. Before we start all over again.”

She had a point, but she was also clearly still extremely emotional. And he knew all the ways in which old trauma could rear its head, which would be much worse than a bit of yelling. And (despite — or maybe because — everything) she was a friend.

“Are you going to be—?” he began, and she did something that might be a nod.

“I’m going to Jack.”

‘Don’t tell Jack’ the boy was imploring him in his memory, and he snapped back into defensive mode.

“You can’t tell him…!”

She gave him a tired look.

“I wasn’t planning to, Doctor. The Seeker has his bolt hole and I have mine, that’s all.”

“Bolt— oh.”

She smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“I’m sorry. Give your nephew a call. I need some space.”

And with that she left.

After she had gone he spent a long moment simply standing still, trying to process the whole thing. Roda would be fine — or as fine as either of them would ever be — he just wished that they could get along rather than constantly antagonise each other. But that was a problem for another day. Right now he needed to work out what to do about the Seeker.

Although — a bath was called for first. Yes. And a cuppa. Or maybe something a little stronger, if the TARDIS was willing to let him know where she had stashed his Aldebaran brandy.

Allowing exhaustion to settle wholesale, he flicked some switches and pressed a few buttons, then pulled the lever taking the TARDIS into the vortex and parking.

Time out, finally.

Then his phone rang, and he looked at the caller ID in astonishment. Why was she calling?

Torchwood was dark and quiet — the only illumination the standby lights softly glowing in different hues, coupled with the gentle background hum of technology. It was comforting, especially since in the middle of it all was Jack. Jack who was also in his shirt sleeves, but whose expression was open and concerned rather than hostile and defensive. Jack who didn’t say anything at all, but merely pulled Roda into a hug after a single look at her face.

After a long moment of simply trying to let go of the stress and tenseness still gripping hold of her, Roda allowed herself to be coached over to the sofa and sank down, letting her head fall on Jack’s shoulder. Jack was warm and comforting, and wasn’t going to be infuriating if she simply tried to explain—

She could feel her teeth grinding in frustration and clearly so could Jack. He rubbed her arm gently and made a little shushing noise.

“C’mon,” he admonished. “Talk to me. How is he?”

It took her a hot second to realise that he meant the Seeker. She sighed.

“He’s… he’s a mess. Jamie and Josh — that’s their names? The flirty one and the half-Arcateenian. They’re taking care of him. Or trying to.”

“That’s… What happened?”

“His girlfriend broke up with him, and…”

Her voice trailed off, and after a moment Jack prompted her:

“And…?”

She stared ahead, eyes un-focussing. The lights in the dim cavern went blurry as she recalled everything she had been told.

“And he’s taking it badly,” she eventually added.

After a moment she realised that Jack had stopped stroking her arm. She tilted her head to look up at him and saw his best no-nonsense face looking back down at her.

“Alright. So — what aren’t you telling me?”

She looked into those shrewd blue eyes, almost black in the faint light, and shook her head gently.

“It’s not my place to tell, Jack.” She paused. “I’m such a hypocrite. That’s what the Doctor said, I shouted at him…”

She sighed, leaning forward and rubbing her temples. It was all such a mess and she couldn’t explain… She heard Jack moving, the hopeful note in his voice when he spoke.

“…you spoke to the Doc?”

Letting her hands fall down, elbows resting on her knees, she shook her head again.

“And it was a terrible idea. I know you want us to make up, but I’ve simply made everything ten times worse. He just makes me so… We used to be friends. Now we don’t speak the same language. I don’t know. I say stupid shit whenever we talk, and he’s right, I’ve got no right to make demands… I just can’t forget whose side he took at the end of the year… Even if I know that’s me overreacting.”

She was glad she wasn’t looking at him.

“Roda…”

“Which is why I don’t talk to him, now… I should blame the Master for that year and instead—”

She felt a soothing hand on her back, long slow strokes up and down.

“Roda. Breathe. Deep breaths.”

She allowed herself to follow his advice, doing her best to empty her head, simply feeling the soothing motion against her back and breathing in and out, in and out, in and out…

Eventually, hearts slowing down and tension somewhat calmed, she let herself fall back into him.

“Thank you. I didn’t want this to be about me — again. He’ll talk to you. The Seeker. I’m sure. When he can. Or wants to. He needs… someone to listen. Listen properly. Be there. Omega knows I was evidently the wrong choice. But Josh and Jamie… if he listens to them, he’ll be — not fine, but… They’re good kids. All three of them. He won’t be magically healed. But better. I think.”

She could feel Jack shifting, as if the ill-ease had travelled from her to him.

“And at least he told you something. What am I, chopped liver?”

“Don’t be like that. I’ve pretty much just had this exact argument, and we both love you.”

“I know. I’m just used to him talking to me.”

Glancing up, she saw a frown denting his brow. Not so much frustration, as being unable to work out why the tot hadn’t come to him, and clearly feeling hurt.

“I know,” she said softly. Then, a moment later.

“Jack?”

“Roda?”

“When we first met. This you, this me…”

She bit her lip, trying to find the right words.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“I was angry,” she said, and there was a gentle huff from above.

“I picked up on that, yeah.”

She waved a frustrated hand in the air.

“No, I mean… I didn’t see you. I saw the Time Agent. Didn’t that make you… mad?”

“A bit? I sorta knew how it would turn out. And Yan gave me a talking-to.”

She took a deep breath, determined to carry on, try to dig into it:

“Right… okay. And now?”

She felt the reassuring heft of Jack’s chest behind her, supporting her, the warmth of his body seeping through their clothes. A stark contrast to the distance that the Doctor had kept. And the Seeker too for that matter, poor kid.

“What do you mean?” Jack asked, and Roda clenched and unclenched her hand.

“After the Valiant. Everything that happened. And — and the conflict, before.”

He shrugged gently.

“Things change.”

“Sure. But… is this — I mean, you and I, me being here, are we…”

She was reaching for something, but her mind was still full of arguments, the Doctor telling her she ‘couldn’t demand access retroactively’, that she wasn’t—

She couldn’t finish the thought, nails digging into her palm until she wondered if she had actually broken the skin (again). She swallowed, and gave up.

“…never mind.”

A deep sigh.

“Roda.”

She tried not to sniffle and buried her head deeper under his chin.

“No, it’s — I don’t know the question. But I trust you. Can I come back to it?”

There was a pause, until Jack asked, voice more gentle and careful than it had been so far.

“Are you alright?”

She exhaled, grateful for a simple question.

“No. Not really. Can I stay?”

His arm tightened around her, as he dropped a kiss on her head.

“Of course, Roda. The answer’s always yes.”

She sat there, with her head on Jack’s shoulder. Comfortable. Safe. Seen. And it came to her that yes — this was all a mess. The Seeker was hurting. Josh and Jamie were hurting, too. And Jack, and the Doctor, and herself and — if she was being generous — probably even the Seeker’s parents.

But nothing was irreparable. And some things didn’t need to be said. She’d been a complete idiot, too. But there was hurt, and fear, and there was panic. The Seeker needed to be helped through the last; love covered the first two, in time.

Which was, in essence, what she had to work out how to say to him. From outside the family, no longer looking in but stepping. They’d had a comfortable enough friendship in recent years. Made do by not poking sleeping womprats with sonic screwdrivers.

But then, there was what the Doctor had said to her: “A family you refused to be a part of”. The same story since her exile, of being on her own. But… was she? She couldn’t bring herself to ask Jack, not quite now, in case the answer broke her hearts.

(Which it wouldn’t. It never would. Not Jack. But still. Pain… familiar, and still unnavigable.)

But now the Seeker was letting her in too. You’re part of his family. She had to trust them. The Doctor, the Seeker, his friends. And let herself be trusted to take the hand reached out to her. The Seeker wasn’t the scorpion and she wasn’t the frog. The Master wasn’t watching from the shadows, pulling the strings.

The Seeker had chosen to confide in her, the same way she always went to Jack. When he had been ready. And that spoke volumes that she would be wrong to betray…

But right now, she needed Jack — strong arms wrapped around her, his breath on her hair, an unspoken home.

She hoped the Seeker could find peace too.

Chapter Text

Trying to take Roda’s advice on board, the Seeker decided that the first step was ‘don’t waste away in self-pity’.

Since this was easier said than done, he figured that breaking this task into smaller, more manageable chunks would be a good idea. Even just moving off the sofa felt unachievable, but if he did everything in stages he could hopefully tick at least one box.

So, while Josh and Jamie had an extended chat with Roda in the hallway, the Seeker did his best to assess his own physical state.

His appetite over the past… however many days he had been here, had been in inverse proportion to his initial thirst for alcohol, so the waffles were the most substantial meal he had eaten in days and he had to admit that they had clearly made a difference.

Added to which most of the effects of the alcohol poisoning appeared to be on the way out, and he might actually be able to function like a normal person once more.

Which meant he had to face the rest of his life.

He smiled wryly.

Lucky me.

Sighing, he began composing lists as the best way forward. He had always liked lists, and after a short while he had two proper itemised lists.

List 1:
a) Get off sofa
b) Shower
c) Clean clothes
d) Get dressed

List 2:
a) Reply to Allison’s letter

(List 2 was something he might put off for a few centuries.)

After List 2 followed a much more complicated list which was provisionally titled ‘Josh and Jamie and my endless fuck-ups’. It didn’t have any points on it yet, because he didn’t know how to organise it. It was big and unwieldy and full of self-loathing and made him want to curl up on the sofa forever more.

He closed his eyes. Focus.

Concentrate on List 1 to begin with.

At the mere mention of the word ‘shower’ Josh and Jamie brought him a huge pile of towels and a selection of clothes with such speed that he suspected that they’d had both ready and waiting. They were clearly over the moon that Roda’s visit had brought such concrete results and he didn’t have the hearts to tell them that the current change was mostly just skin-deep.

The shower was nice. The Seeker’s mind (unbidden, unhelpfully) provided him with a long list of human religions which used water to symbolise all manner of changes and renewal, and, frustrated, he let his head fall against the slick tiles. (Maybe that’s why he liked alcohol, it stopped him constantly thinking.)

Where do I go from here?

The howling void of loss was still there, but he had managed to step back from the edge a little. The intensity frightened him.

My Love, does it hurt you this much too? he wondered. Is the loss making your whole world fall apart also? How can I live like this? I will never again hold your hand or kiss you, I will never- (the water was getting cold, how long had he been standing here?) And last time it was my fault, I fucked up, I hurt you, I lied to you, you had every right. I understood. But now… it must be just me. I know you still love me, I regained your trust, but none of it was enough.

And yet at the very back of his mind a simple, unavoidable question:

Would it hurt more to stand over your grave?

With a sudden swift motion he turned off the water, stepped out of the shower and grasped a towel, as if he could somehow scrub the endless questions from his mind. He could sense a tune somewhere rising out of his memories, like a private soundtrack of heartbreak, and tried to push it away.

Focus.

Clothes were the next point on the agenda.

Looking at the selection Josh and Jamie had presented him with he shook his head. He was taller than either of them and wider across the shoulders so the choice was limited, and besides their idea of a ‘plain’ T-shirt left much to be desired. He sighed. Life must always have been composed of endless tasks, surely, why was the simple action of getting dressed suddenly so insurmountable?

To get hold of his own clothes meant he needed his phone, but looking around he realised he didn’t have it. His memory was foggier than the mirror which was obscuring his reflection, but after a moment he managed to recall the jacket he’d bought. Yes… Before the drinking, he’d gotten a new jacket.

The memory was a snapshot of a single moment: studying his own reflection in a mirror on Savile Row, slowly turning to appreciate the fit — Fox Brothers tweed, expensive and exclusive — a tailor poised by his side in case alterations were needed.

With a sigh he wrapped a towel around his middle and went in search of the jacket, where (presumably, hopefully) he would find his phone.

He found the jacket in the hallway, neatly hung up, and thoughtfully let his fingertips trail along the soft moss-green tweed, interwoven with brown and amber. Yes, he liked it. A new start. Away from…

Aqqúym, ayaúlym, armanym / Arailaĝan taňdarym (My swan, my dearest, my dream / My sun at dawn)

And there it was, the pain rendered in poetry and music. He swallowed, feeling as if there was some kind of terrible weight on his chest, crushing him.

The scientist in him — detached as always — was observing with unhelpful indifference, merely noting down with interest how he was so far adhering to all the clichés of heartbreak. At this rate he would soon be able to write a whole dissertation on his own, personal response to heartache…

(‘The Subject is deeply maudlin and calling to mind sad love songs with particular significance to his lost love. Is this current, specific reaction — attaching emotional significance to music — a byproduct of a human upbringing or is this cross-species behaviour amongst those with a musical component to their culture? [Note: Ask Roda about the role and influence of music on Gallifrey, specifically love songs.] However the subject has not yet watched sad movies while eating ice cream, although this would appear to be more prevalent amongst the female population…’)

He shook his head, annoyed, and yet fully aware that he’d never be able to move on until he had analysed everything, such was the way his brain functioned. But — that was for another day. Objective analysis was impossible until he could be objective. And right now objectivity was further away than the moon. (For an ordinary person. For him of course the moon was as easily accessible as the next room. Shut up brain! Shut up shut up shut up!)

Decisively taking the phone out of the pocket he contacted the droids and got them to transmat him some essential clothing. And then slowly, hand shaking, he took out Allison’s letter from the jacket’s inner pocket. He had expected it to have yellowed after sitting in the PO box for a year but — apart from the creases caused by the stay in his pocket — it looked as if it could have been posted yesterday.

A little later, sporting a comforting white T-shirt and blue jeans combo, he wandered back into the sitting room, the letter clasped in his hand and feeling like it was scalding him. He noted that Josh and Jamie had cleared away the cups and plates, straightening out the room in the process, and that his (security) blanket was now neatly folded up and draped over the sofa’s armrest. It was getting dark outside so he turned on the lights, drew the curtains, and wondered if there was anything else he was supposed to do before dismissing the thought.

Putting up a mental ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign, he sank back onto the sofa. Roda had said to get off it, but he didn’t think she quite understood… The sofa was merely the most convenient place for him to place his body while his mind worked things out, and being here he knew that he’d be a) looked after and b) not questioned. He could hear Josh and Jamie in the kitchen, chatting quietly while cooking, and was grateful for the solitude.

The first list having been accomplished, the second now hovered over him. He could put it off for centuries, yes, but dragging it out would only prolong the pain.

You were late to the lecture, and I was drawing stupid calculations in Gallifreyan, distracting you from the presentation… and you agreed to come for a coffee. Did I feel some consequence yet hanging in the stars? Would I have turned back, had I known?

Every memory felt like a new injury, rising up from the past to stab him when he wasn’t expecting it.

Except it was different, now, after the letter. Why was it so much worse? He looked over the edge of the yawning maw of despair and could feel the pull, the desperation that made him want to make everything go away, to make the world a blank nothing.

(He didn’t want to die — he just wanted the pain to not be there.)

She loved him. He knew it. And yet it hadn’t been enough.

I would tear the universe apart for you, I thought you felt the same way…

He took a deep breath and took the letter out of the envelope.

It was handwritten; meticulous, precise, every word clearly chosen with utmost care. Except… On the back of the envelope a single sentence had been scribbled — he could almost see her leaning on the postbox, writing in haste and then posting before she could change her mind: ‘Please don’t contact me, I couldn’t bear it.’

As if the choice was tearing her apart also.

And yet, she had still made it. Was human love different?

Or… had she chosen to save them both from the eventual outcome of their differences? Him from having to watch her grow old and die, her from watching him not age…

(Maybe she had watched Highlander and that had swayed her? He pulled a face and irritably dismissed the movie. It was the sort of story the Doctor got sentimental over and that River laughed at.)

No, he couldn’t hide in stories this time. But music — music was something else.

Allowing himself to fall into another memory he closed his eyes, letting the lyrics of ‘My Swan’ wash over him.

Could vividly picture Dimash on the stage, a single, simple spotlight illuminating him and his voice quivering with emotion; the beauty of the song washing over the audience, even if few understood the actual words…

Baqytyňdy tileimin ketseň shalĝai
Jared almaspyn esime almai
Qatar ushqan syňarym
Sóndi sezim shyraĝym

(I wish you the best, even as you walk away / I will never stop missing you / We flew wing to wing / Your love illuminated my life)

Allison’s hand in his, her eyes shining.

He took a shaky breath, trying to ground himself in The Now, in reality, in the physical world around him. And then felt a small bitter smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. What do you know, it was our song after all…

He wasn’t sure if she had found someone else by now, but that wasn’t the point… She had chosen humankind over him.

And ironically the song had solved his problem. He knew how to reply to her letter: after all, it was a break-up song…

With equal parts dread and resolve he pulled out the phone once more, bringing up Allison’s number.

How can it end so mundanely, sitting on a sofa in London? Or maybe that is the point? The beginning was like this — average, everyday, human. My Swan, I… never fitted in your world, I know that now. I am sorry I hurt us both by pretending otherwise.

He could easily write whole essays, a thesis, a book…

Instead he pressed ‘New Message’ before gently whispering “Baqytty bol”, watching the words appear on the screen and then pressing send. It never occurred to him that maybe he should have sent a message in English.

Letting himself sink back into the sofa he stared into nothing. It was over.

Allison was chilling on the sofa, channel surfing. She knew she ought to start cooking, as it was already dark outside and Andrew would surely be done with his marking soon, but she felt entirely too lethargic and was very tempted to just order a takeaway.

She smiled to herself, knowing that this would trigger a by now familiar ‘argument’ — Andrew would say that they couldn’t afford takeaways ‘in this economy’ and she would counter that she could do what she liked with her own money, and surely it was better to stimulate the economy than just complain about it? He’d call her a student spendthrift and she’d call him a miserly old man, and in no time the argument would develop into any number of avenues, always interesting and enjoyable — and occasionally reaching a naked conclusion, the initial argument forgotten — so really it was win-win. Life was good.

Looking around Andrew’s cosily cluttered sitting room, with its eclectic furniture sourced from charity shops, lovingly restored, and random assortment of instruments, as well as its ever-growing collection of mini cacti that his mother kept buying for him (even though he claimed to hate them), she sighed happily. She rarely got any work done when staying over, but there was a lot to be said for comfort and relaxation.

Then her phone buzzed and she reached out and picked it up, wondering who it could be: one of her friends or her mum or one of her siblings or the university or NASA — or just a stupid notification of a new update? (‘Stop being so attached to your phone!’ Andrew would say, and he probably had a point. But her phone was full of people, and what if she missed something important?)

Seeing the name on the screen she took a swift intake of breath, her heart lurching in her chest.

The unexpected sudden deep ache was immediately followed by both anger and incredulity — was ‘Please don’t contact me’ too complicated an instruction? And what was Alex doing messaging now? It must have been more than a year since she sent the letter?

Hand shaking she opened the message, trying to quell the sudden rush of emotions.

But reading the missive her brow furrowed into a frown. There was no greeting or signature, just two words: ‘Baqytty bol’. She stared at the screen for a few moments, puzzled. Was it an error? Was it, like, Gallifreyan, and he had sent it to her by mistake and it was supposed to go to someone else, like the Doctor?

Although… The words felt incredibly familiar somehow. Where had she heard them before? Her frown deepened as she tried to place them. It felt like… music? Searching for the tune or the context, a memory unfurled in her mind without warning; beautiful and gut-wrenching and singular.

Aqqúym, ayaúlym, armanym / Arailaĝan taňdarym (My swan, my dearest, my dream / My sun at dawn)

Dimash on the stage, a single, simple spotlight illuminating him and his voice quivering with emotion; the beauty of the song washing over the audience, even if few understood the actual words…

Alex’s hand in hers as she fought back tears.

It had been his first Christmas present to her — concert tickets for the greatest singer on Earth, and the song was one of her all-time favourites. (She liked sad songs.) She wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d arranged for Dimash to sing the song just because she had mentioned it; it was the sort of thing he had loved to do.

Although she still remembered him being an idiot later, trying to call her 'Aqqúym' ('My swan’) and she had balked. She didn’t mind the nickname per se, but it was a breakup song!

But now. Oh now. In two words he had sent her a whole song, and the message itself immediately made perfect sense. ‘Baqytty bol’ were the last words of the song — the final message of the heartbroken singer to his lost love who had left him for another. Allison’s knowledge of Kazakh was essentially non-existent, but she knew what those words meant: ‘Be happy’ or ‘I wish you happiness’, depending on the translation.

How had he done that? How had he communicated his heartbreak, his acceptance, his well-wishes, his love — nay his whole self in only two words?

(‘Cleverest boy in the world’, her memory whispered to her.)

Magic, brilliant and (unexpectedly) gracious to the last.

“Al? Al! My god you are crying, are you okay? What happened?”

She looked up, saw Andrew standing over her before falling to his knees beside the sofa, radiating concern.

Touching her cheek, she realised it was wet. She hadn’t even noticed that she was crying.

She tried smiling, studying the man in front of her. There were no stars in his eyes, he did not contain multitudes or create planets; he was an ordinary secondary school music teacher with a penchant for bright colours and old wooden furniture. But he was hers, completely. From the ugly orange cardigan to the soft beard that she rather loved (and would definitely be buying Beard Baubles for, to put in his Christmas stocking).

“It’s fine, I’m fine. I’ll — I’ll explain later.”

She kissed him gently, just to prove that she was fine, honestly, and studied his still worried face with a genuine smile until he smiled back tentatively — and then mentioned getting a takeaway, which had the desired effect.

However once he had gone to finish up his marking she picked up the phone again, feeling the heavy tug in her heart. The loss that she was simply learning to live with, the way Alex also would, she knew. Her impossible love, stolen by time itself.

Goodbye my Golden Boy, please be happy. And I guess you were right — I was your swan all along…

Chapter Text

The Seeker wasn’t sure how much time passed before Jamie and Josh appeared. Could have been seconds, could have been decades.

The loss of Allison he simply had to learn to live with, somehow, but these two… friends-pets-lovers, what even were they?

There were no beautiful love songs with swan imagery that he could project onto. No, the only songs he could think of were dangerous and full of destruction…

Don’t approach me
Don’t touch my skin
I will burn you alive

But they had more than approached, more than touched, and he had burned them.

So he owed them. He wasn’t exactly sure what, but the talk with Roda had been good; possibly transformative. He hadn’t properly conveyed to her the entirety and the depth of the mess, but she had managed to be both objective and personal, forcing him out of the mental box he had retreated into by offering a different viewpoint. She had also been emphasising the fact that he was young and that screwing up was to be expected.

Which was… not something he was used to. Perfection was expected of him, always.

He could start with something else he wasn’t used to. Honesty and an apology.

Looking up, he realised that they were standing by the door simply waiting for him to speak. He more than suspected that they’d been spying on his talks with Roda, but he still needed to take ownership of what he had done. He was reminded of that first Morning After the Night Before, the way they were standing together, hand in hand. But this time he would do what he hadn’t been able to do back then: explain what he had done.

“I… I know you don’t understand what I did. That you don’t even have a concept of how I altered you. But believe me, I tried to find a way to change it. Tried and failed and I’m sorry. I studied and tested and… everything under the sun…”

His voice trailed off as he became aware of the looks on their faces.

“You were trying to find a way to change us back?” Josh asked slowly, incredulous and angry, and the Seeker blinked.

“Of course! I… violated you, you have no concept of what I-”

“How dare you? If you’ll excuse us, Mr Super Fantastic Genius Time Lord — as the ones who actually experienced it, we know bloody well what you did. And you would just change us back without asking? That would… That would literally be adding insult to injury.”

He stared at them mutely.

“But I-”

Jamie stepped forwards and knelt down by him, studying his face. Hair the colour of midnight, unflinchingly cool blue-green eyes, a determined mouth — all veiling a mind of beauty unlike any in the universe.

“You made us see you. See what you really are, the truth that is hidden.”

“You shouldn’t,” he whispered.

“You let us be the judge of that,” Jamie continued. “It’s like being able to look at the sun…”

‘And I am blinding you’, he thought bitterly.

“Seeker, listen.”

It was Josh again, slowly walking forward until he was standing by the sofa, looking down on him.

“I — we — have wanted you for… years. We got one night — one night that changed our lives, changed us — and then, as always, you just decided that You Knew Best and that was the end of it. If you’d stop being so damn big headed, and just listen to what we want…”

The Seeker looked from one to the other.

“But I’m only here because… Because I lost her. Because-”

He couldn’t even say it, the hurt ran too deep.

“Like last time, you mean,” Jamie said. “Could you please explain why it is such a problem? You need solace, we want you. We — you and us — are the perfect solution, although apparently you need to be blind drunk before you’ll see sense.”

“Stay a week,” Josh added, hands on the sofa’s armrest and leaning forward. “Just a week, and we’ll see how it goes. Please? You owe us that…”

All he could think of was The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

‘Which is why it was eventually decided to cut through the whole tangled problem and breed an animal that actually wanted to be eaten and was capable of saying so clearly and distinctly. And here I am.’

But it wasn’t quite the same, was it? They just wanted to love him…

He bowed his head in defeat. He had made this; the least he could do was give them what they desired.

And he needed this. Them. That was the worst part; an inescapable fact that he was trying to avoid, but he knew the truth. He had created his perfect refuge, had created it so perfectly he couldn’t escape, even if he wanted…

The physical reality of them was like an anchor tethering him to the world and stopping him from disappearing into the black void that kept calling to him — and yet he despised himself for having created this. They helped dull the pain, at the same time as they increased his self-loathing and guilt… Burying his head in his hands he wished he could just put his emotions on mute. Except that would make him even more like his father than he already was.

‘Stop.’

He froze, but there was something like laughter and exasperation in Jamie’s mind.

‘I mean, stop feeling guilty. You are not your father. Nowhere near. I don’t pretend to understand exactly what you did, but is it possible that you never grasped the most fundamental part?’

Slowly turning his head to look at Jamie he blinked, unable to parse hir meaning or understand how sie knew what he’d been thinking.

‘Explain?’

‘It goes both ways’, Josh now, and since when had Josh ever-

The Seeker’s eyes opened wide and he turned back, staring at his oldest friend. Josh smiled:

‘For someone so clever, you are remarkably slow on the uptake, Seeker dearest. You didn’t create puppets, which is what you’re so worried about. You created perfect co-dependence. You never needed to tell us what happened with Allison, we knew, or didn’t you notice? It’s like… you hacked us? But when you did, you gave us access in return. We see you. Properly see you, who you really are. We have tried to tell you this, right from that first morning, but you never listened...’

‘How… How would that even work?’

Josh shrugged, brown eyes calm and untroubled.

‘You tell us. We’re not experts. And quite frankly we don’t care. We just want you to admit that you’re ours the same as we are yours.’

A beat, then Jamie joined in again.

‘So please, stop beating yourself up, it’s exhausting. Instead, can I suggest that you just do as you’re told? We believe that’s part of the deal. And remember — you can’t fool us.’

He sat for a moment in silence, turning it all over. Remembered their past, remembered every fight with Josh; the way he had always, always, always overruled him.

‘This isn’t about me’, he realised, with the strangest kind of relief. ‘I screwed up, to such an extent that I can’t even understand what I did — but it’s not. about. me. This is what Roda was trying to say.’

He took a deep breath, knowing a cure and contrition when he saw them and grasping them with both hands:

“I’ll do as I’m told.”

The Seeker didn’t sleep much. Josh and Jamie had offered that he could sleep in their bed (it was king size, and the only alternative was the sofa) but he had needed to think through everything.

He had been so focussed on who he mustn’t be that he had overlooked who he actually was. But he couldn’t move past what he had done, and he needed to understand it…

The dark hours of the night passed, one after the other, as he tried to work it out, delving into the understanding and knowledge he had gained in his ‘gap years’ (as he thought of them); specifically the first year which he had spent with the Xhinn. They were a species with an ancient quest to be worshipped (which to his mind was much more like a far-too-attainable nightmare), but their telepathy and mind control were exquisite. He would be forever grateful for the lessons learned, easily recalling his tutor’s face — the hundreds of eyes in the mouthless face studying him impassively as their mind would unleash attack after attack or relentlessly guide him through yet another mind control exercise.

(As expected, his father’s name had proved a valuable calling card and reference; they admired someone with aims so close to their own.)

Now he carefully walked through the exercises, not just the attacks but the defences — he must have somehow left himself open, and he needed to figure it all out for his own peace of mind. It wasn’t co-dependence (at least not how the word was normally understood) because they were not equals, but two-way access was unexpected and a puzzle.

Not long before daylight finally crept through the curtains he finally made his way to the bedroom, insinuating himself into the bed next to Josh.

‘Josh?’

‘Mmmm?’ Josh’s mind was soft and warm and welcoming and barely awake.

‘If I told you to jump off a cliff, would you do it?’

‘Probably…’

Josh didn’t seem overly worried, but that wasn’t the point of the question.

‘If I told you to hurt someone-’

‘Seeker, stop.’

‘But-’

‘Listen, I know what you are doing and… yes, I would probably do basically anything you told me. Something-something-free-will — or lack thereof, rather — you seem terribly bothered about it, although I don’t really understand why.’

‘Josh-’ His chest felt too tight, how had he done this? He knew, and yet having it confirmed was worse than expected. Except Josh continued, breaking his train of thought.

‘Because you would never do that. You are so… lost inside your head you can’t see the obvious. Roda tried to tell you, but I’m not sure you quite got it. Seeker. Alex. You are my best friend. I have known you my whole life, literally one of my very first proper memories is of you. Our first day of nursery, remember? You gathered us up because you wanted to play Star Trek and said something like: ‘I’m Spock — he’s the cool alien who uses his brains.’ And I never realised how true that was until later, but you told us who you were that day. Spock would never hurt his friends, everyone knows that. And neither would you. Just because you could, in theory, do just about anything to us doesn’t mean you will. I know you.’

The Seeker didn’t know what to do with this. His chest felt too tight in a whole new way.

‘But-’

‘Yeah I freaked out back when you told us, properly told us what you were, but that was to do with the Doctor and your father and… everything tied up with that. Genocide is… not an easy subject. But I never doubted you.’

The Seeker could feel tears welling up, a sort of breathless gratitude that he had no way of processing or comprehending.

‘I trust you. Completely,’ Josh carried on, opening his eyes and the Seeker thought he might drown in their deep brown depths. ‘I understand what you could do to me, to us. I also know that you would never.’

He barely thought it, but Josh caught the drift of his mind.

‘I did tell you to tell Allison straight away. If that would have helped I don’t know. Maybe you weren’t meant to be. But I — we — chose you. And even if we could, we wouldn’t go back on that.’

The Seeker closed his eyes and curled into his friend, allowing the pain to take over again.

‘Hold me?’ he asked, feeling like a child. It was selfish, but letting Josh’s embrace chase the anguish away was comfort he couldn’t turn away from, had he been able.

When morning came for real he sat up, feeling awake for the first time in however-long.

“What day is it?” he asked, and Jamie thought about it.

“Thursday?” sie offered, and the Seeker looked from one to the other. “Don’t you have work? Or… something? I’ve been here for days and I’m sure you’ve not left the flat.”

(When he probed his memories he thought he might remember deliveries, but they had never left.)

“How could we leave? You were here,” Josh replied and the Seeker threw out a hand.

“But — work?” He thought back, remembered something about Jamie studying. “Music… school?”

“You. Were. Here.” Josh repeated as though speaking to a simpleton. “I said I had a family emergency.”

“I appreciate it, but you really shouldn’t-” He stopped at their expressions.

“Seeker,” Jamie added. “Do you still not understand? You ran away. You made us yours and then you left us.”

And there was that hollow feeling again, the you-fucked-up-so-badly-your-friends-are-forever-broken.

“I’m sorry,” he said, helplessly. “I screwed up. I was scared. All I can say is… I’m here now. I promise I won’t leave again, unless you want me to, okay? Just please don’t put your lives on hold. Go do all the things you neglected while you were looking after me.”

There was a pause.

“You said you trusted me, yes? Please trust me not to run away again?”

The other two looked at each other, then nodded.

“Okay,” Josh said eventually.

The problem was what to do with himself once they had left.

Having aimlessly wandered from the kitchen to the sitting room, as if on autopilot, he found himself standing in front of the sofa, mind a blank. Curling up on the sofa again was not an option. Or rather, it was not an option he was going to avail himself of.

Raising his eyes from the sofa to the wall above it he, for the first time, noticed the framed print hanging there.

It showed Anne Hathaway (Snow White beautiful, although dressed in a very fetching 19th Century uniform) between two other people. Her head was turned to the woman on her right who was kissing her, her hand under Anne’s chin. On her left side a man was leaning against her shoulder, resting or asleep.

The man and woman between them held a rapier, the blade pinning Anne in place.

The Seeker recognised the image, knew it was a promo image from a production of Twelfth Night and also a meme template…

And yet.

It was so very clearly a wish, a hope, a dream… captured and displayed; legible only to themselves — and to him.

He swallowed, frozen in place, feeling as if a blade was indeed across his chest also.

(A blade he had given to them.)

The picture was Want and Desire, Peace and Fulfilment — everything they (he) yearned for.

What do I do what do I do what do I do what do I do what do I-

His mind felt like a hamster in a wheel, running at a furious pace and not getting anywhere.

Noting the way his face was reflected in the surface of the glass, he found himself turning his head so his own image overlapped Anne’s. Kissing one, being held by the other… Eyes open, the other two caught in a fantasy.

I could have this.

The loss of Allison was still fresh and raw and unbounded in its ferocity, and here was a solution hung on the wall… Something inside him was shaking and he wanted a drink so badly that for long moments it took all his willpower to not simply run off and find the nearest bottle of alcohol.

Eventually he forced himself to put his hands over his eyes in order to stop looking.

When the fuck did I get so pathetic, why am I like this? It’s ridiculous!

When he moved his hands he stared at the floor instead, avoiding the picture and the promises it held.

The floor was covered in an unattractive shade of dark blue carpet, not helped by the scattering of crumbs and the dust under the furniture.

Looking round the room, still avoiding the picture, he noted how — although the place wasn’t messy as such — it wasn’t clean. At least not according to his standards. And the kitchen had looked like it’d seen better days…

He ended up cleaning the entire flat from top to bottom, clearing out and re-organising the kitchen cupboards, only skipping clothes washing due to the fact that about 90% of the outfits were dry clean only. He did consider taking down the curtains, but instead decided to do some online shopping for food and other necessities — the cupboards and fridge were very bare, clearly the two of them had been living off takeaways for days.

Wandering through the cleaned and organised flat he felt a frown forming. The flat was small, cramped and… ugly. Josh and Jamie had clearly tried to improve it as best they could with nice curtains and pictures (excepting the Twelfth Night picture, they were mostly posters of stars and constellations, making him feel guilty all over again), but the drab magnolia managed to be dull whilst simultaneously clashing with the blue of the carpets, which in turn clashed with the red curtains, and the proportions of the rooms were off — slightly too low and too narrow to be comfortable. It didn’t make sense. Why did they live like this?

He turned and looked out of the window which showed a dull residential red-brick building of flats, the mirror image of where he was standing.

What did they want from him? And how long for? He would do whatever they wanted (within his own parameters) but he needed some sort of framework. Although maybe they didn’t know…

It was abundantly clear that he couldn’t stay. He was going spare already, the week he had promised them would be a literal nightmare. Could he… go away during the day and do his own thing and come back here at night? He couldn’t leave them again, but how long did they want him for? They had said ‘Stay a week’, but he already knew that wouldn’t be enough.

He buried his head in his hands. He felt trapped, but it was a trap of his own making.

Although he could fix one thing at least. Sinking to the floor, crossing his legs and closing his eyes, he let his breathing become level and focussed on slowly rebuilding his internal walls, in as much as was possible. He had been too tired the previous night to do more than determine the issue, even as he knew full well that diagnosis was only half the problem. There were things in his mind that he didn’t want his friends to see. He had buried them as deep as he could, but better safe than sorry…

Mum had been against the wall, wearing something shiny and silky, Dad holding her by the upper arms, hard enough to bruise even though Mum never ever did anything she shouldn’t. Dad had been wearing a suit, all Saxon and cool and demanding.

But the thing that stood out — the thing that chilled him even now, the thing that had made two-year-old him freeze on the spot back then — had been the look on his mother’s face.

She hadn’t looked like Mum at all.

She’d looked... He couldn’t even describe it now. Like the people had, back when he was a tiny, tiny baby on the Valiant. Enchanted. Literally. Caught in a web; ensnared, worshipful.

And she’d whispered Dad’s name like it wasn’t a name at all.

‘Master...’

‘Biddable’ still rang in his mind, and he wished he could delete the whole thing, wipe it from his mind for good, but knew he couldn’t allow himself that luxury. Knew what he had to fight against, especially since his friends didn’t and couldn’t.

But he was by nature a private person and was keen to stay that way, so solid barriers was the way to go.

He took great care to bury the second memory also — the one from That Night, the moment Josh’s face had overlaid his mothers; the same reverence, the same surrender. Jamie’s mind so enmeshed that they had both fallen together.

He fought the nausea, it was pointless and unhelpful, he just needed this done. (Be Your Mind: no emotions, just pure purpose.)

When he was finished it was late afternoon. Unsure what to do next he decided to make a meal — after all Josh and Jamie would presumably be hungry when they returned. He only stuttered for a moment, remembering how he had prepared dinners for Allison, but pushing the issue aside he focussed on the fact that food was necessary and that he couldn’t go to pieces every time he boiled an egg.

By the time Josh and Jamie returned the table was laid, with candles and flowers and the starter almost ready.

“Damn, Seeker,” Josh said, voice almost a whisper.

“It’s not too much?”

He didn’t know how to pitch this. Felt like he was moving on quicksand.

“It’s lovely,” Jamie reassured. “But…”

“Just eat,” he said, as an alarm rang, “We can talk later.”

The meal was quiet, and for the first time the Seeker really looked at his two friends. They had been there for days of course, but he had been so caught up in his own head that they had existed almost as avatars.

It was Josh who first registered — or rather, the fact that Josh was wearing a shirt and tie, looking like a City clone rather than fashion connoisseur and peacock the Seeker knew him as. And he looked… tired. An exhaustion that the Seeker didn’t remember ever seeing before, his usually animated face drawn and pale.

Jamie had seemingly retreated into another stereotype, The Music Student: black hair and black band T-shirt making hir indistinguishable from any other student, as opposed to the vivid outsider always treading the path in-between genders with no care for anyone’s opinion.

Studying them they seemed oddly diminished, and he felt a strange pang somewhere between his hearts.

It was the first emotion in days that wasn’t heartbreak or guilt, and he decided to examine it further. He thought it might tie in with the flat and that strange sense of something being off he’d had when he first woke. Like being in a universe where everything was two centimetres to the left. He wasn’t sure how to pitch it, so went with the first thing that came to his head.

“Why do you live… here?”

Josh lifted an eyebrow.

“Is this a trick question?”

“No but — this is not you. It’s ugly.”

“Well this is what we can afford,” Jamie shot back. “And that’s with renting out my flat in Cambridge.”

Josh shook his head, a bitter smile on his face.

“You never had to worry about money, did you? And we’re not badly off to be honest, despite student loans. My salary is pretty decent.”

Salary. Work. They seemed like alien concepts. But he could at least try to seem interested.

“Hang on, I can remember this… You got taken on by some fancy architecture firm even before you graduated, yes?”

Josh shrugged. “Yeah.”

The Seeker frowned. He sensed frustration, resentment, unhappiness… So far he’d tried to stay clear of his friends’ minds as much as he could, but where he had expected excitement and the fulfilment of dreams there was a blank. It was too strange not to ask about further. He wanted them happy, not… Whatever this was. He had a feeling it was more than the flat and the inexplicably dull clothes.

“Josh?”

Josh stubbornly didn’t look up, merely twirling his wine glass between his fingers. Eventually Jamie spoke.

“He’s not happy.”

“I’m fine,” Josh bit off the words with vehemence, and Jamie shook hir head. “Then why do you drink so much?”

“What’s this?” the Seeker asked, wanting them to tell him. He could easily just reach into their minds and had a feeling that this was what they wanted, a way to avoid speaking the truth. But he didn’t want that. The same way he didn’t want them walking around in his own mind. Boundaries were good. (I will not let us become like my parents.)

Eventually Josh spoke.

“Look I’m… the most junior guy there. I’m their pretty poster boy, their networking wiz charming everyone, their diversity hire — I tick lots of boxes — and in return I get to tinker around the corners. Occasionally I’m allowed to work on a shed or a turret, or I get brought in to ‘jazz up’ an office block.” The bitterness in his voice was evident. “My ideas are too fanciful or impractical or expensive or too plain impossible.”

The Seeker hesitated.

“Is that why the clothes?” he finally asked, and Josh shrugged.

“Yeah? There were only so many times my boss could do her ‘Although we appreciate your individuality and flair, we need you to remember that we as a company have a professional image to maintain. We would have nothing against you wearing a little rainbow flag pin, if only you could wear something a little less flamboyant’ speech before I wondered why I even bothered.”

At Josh’s words the Seeker very much wanted to immediately teleport to this woman’s home and make sure she never tried to curtail his Josh’s individuality ever again; his protective streak reasserting itself as if never gone.

His reaction must have shown on his face, because before he could even open his mouth Josh shook his head firmly:

“Don’t you dare do a thing to help me. That way only lies even more jealousy and backstabbing. Unless you’re going to mind-control the entire company from top to bottom?”

The Seeker knew a petulant Josh when he saw one. Usually he’d sweep in and just sort things but now… For the first time he could remember Josh was refusing help, which confusingly seemed counter to everything else Josh had said.

He didn’t know what to do with this. He had withdrawn from Earth to the point where he felt like a snake trying to fit into its old skin. Humans just… did their human thing, and sometimes it took time. That’s what the Doctor said, at least.

Josh seemed to have caught the drift of his mind.

“I know. It’s all just life, and I need to adjust my goals and keep my ambitions in check. Guess I got too used to you just smoothing the path at every turn.”

He raised his glass with a smile that was more akin to a sneer: “Here’s to adulting.”

The Seeker began to realise that this was yet another aspect of ‘You left us’. It wasn’t just the most recent violation — he had spent most of their lives being Josh’s ‘miracle maker’, easing the path of his ‘peacock’ every step of the way, never thinking that maybe he had conditioned him. And had then simply abandoned him when he probably needed help the most, moving from study to the world of work. His every instinct wanted to step back into his previous role, except the possessive term was not something he should be indulging in. Matt had never needed it, and he was doing fine as far as the Seeker knew…

But then he hadn’t broken Matt either.

He needed to focus on something else. So, the flat was crummy and work was currently unfulfilling. Both of those time would solve, right? And maybe he could pull some strings behind the scenes… Discreetly. The way he used to before.

Anyway, Josh was only half the equation — surely Jamie’s music studies were more successful?

“Yes, everything’s going very well,” was the response, delivered in a complete monotone, fitting well with Jamie’s current look of Goth Teenage Boy.

The Seeker’s eyes narrowed, studying Jamie’s impassive facade and the cool blue-green eyes that looked back as if to challenge him to question the statement. Where Josh had been all petulance, Jamie was a smooth blank.

“You seem positively exhilarated with joy,” he responded, “Go on, I remember you hated school when you were growing up, but surely you’re now studying something you like.”

Jamie shrugged, still placidly indifferent. “Like I said — I’m doing very well. I get decent marks, the tutors think I’m fascinating, people even remember my pronouns most of the time.”

This was as bad as Josh, although more puzzling. Why were they both such clams?

“But?” he asked, determined to get the other to explain hirself.

“But…” Jamie abruptly looked away. “Although it’s music, it’s not… my music.” Slowly, slowly hir eyes moved back to the Seeker, held him fast.

“My music is inside me. My music is me. I don’t know how to translate it to ‘human’ music…”

Sie made a frustrated gesture, switched to telepathy.

‘Why am I even trying to explain it? You know what I mean.’

He did. He didn’t think he’d ever forget. Utterly unique, completely mesmerising, something entirely out of this world — beauty and euphoria that he still didn’t know how to categorise. An experience that he (they) had vowed not to regret, but that in hindsight might have been the first unwitting step leading to the current predicament.

Human music could be wonderful, but it wasn’t that.

He felt the pull once more — an innate impulse to collect the shiny things; to gather them up like a magpie and take them back to his own nest for safekeeping where they could flourish and not be curtailed the way they were now. Could hear his father’s voice in his ear, persuasive and beguiling: ‘You should definitely keep them’.

He took a shaky breath and picked up his glass; the water didn’t really help, but at least it created a pause.

Re-focus — forget the memory, think about the problem(s). Except there was nothing he could do about the studies specifically; the issue was inherent in the situation…

However.

Life was more than work or studies. What else had he disturbed with his presence? Nights out with friends; concerts or shows or exhibitions or… all the stuff that made up human life. Surely outside of work and studies life was more colourful? Did he have a whole friend circle to be introduced to if he managed to stay? He shuddered at the thought, feeling exceptionally anti-social, but if he was to do this contrition thing he needed to do it properly. He remembered Josh the Social Butterfly far too well, Mr Friends-with-everyone.

Except when he asked they seemed oddly hesitant. Eventually Josh shrugged.

“When we have any spare time we usually just go stargazing — there’s the observatories of course, but by now we also know all the best ‘dark sky’ spots. And we’re members of several astronomy groups. But we don’t really have… friends. Not anymore.”

After a moment Jamie followed up. “It’s difficult. Like being in a religion of two. No one else sees the world the way we do.”

He felt the sickening tug in his stomach again. The repercussions of what he’d done just kept piling up. And he couldn’t fix it. He couldn’t fix it and he didn’t know what to do.

Momentarily he was struck by the setting — the candles, the flowers, the carefully prepared meal, the wine… He had created a romantic dinner, as if trying to re-enact some kind of ritual apology.

Despondent, he buried his head in his hands. Silence fell. He could feel the candles flicker, the turn of the Earth below them, knew that Allison was far too near. There was an invisible wall between them that he wasn’t allowed to breach, but it still felt like she was in the next room. He couldn’t stay, there was nothing for him to do except brood; constant, ever-present loss making every breath painful. And he couldn’t leave because of these two and what he owed them.

He looked up.

“What do you want?”

The answer was immediate and unanimous.

‘You.’

It wasn’t an epiphany.

It was more like their reply slammed shut all the different avenues he had tried to imagine going down.

He had given Allison a choice: Her world or his. She had chosen her own.

But with these two he had forced the choice on them, and now they had no other options. It was his world or nothing.

Breaking them had been an accident, he was beginning to accept that now, attempting to let go of the guilt. Guilt was unproductive. But that didn’t alter the facts: All breakages must be paid for.

And maybe… maybe they were the answer after all? Maybe embracing this was the way to go? Maybe the payment was a backwards reward?

I am not my father. I can find a different way.

The decision having been made, he lifted his chin.

‘Okay. I’ll be your sun.’

Chapter Text

Friday evening

“Mum! Mum! We won Euromillions!”

Esther took a long, slow breath, looking sternly at Joshua’s face on the rectangle of her screen.

“Joshua Levin. I thought you were too old for this kind of ridiculous nonsense. Since when have you played Euromillions? We’re months away from April Fools.”

She felt like adding that it was Friday night (ie. Shabbat), it had been a long week and she had already taken her bra off. She needed a nice relaxing evening, not stupid pranks, but he blithely carried on:

“First time for everything. Seriously mum, it’s not a joke. Look!” He held up the ticket, his face beaming with such joy and excitement that it almost felt like she’d been punched in the gut. How long since she’d seen a look like that?

“We’re ordering some champagne, please come so we can celebrate properly. You can spend the ride scrolling through Purple Bricks and pick out a countryside cottage like you always wanted.”

Esther didn’t spend the journey wondering about cottages. No, very different thoughts occupied her mind — worries that she had tried to voice, but that had never been settled.

Josh had always had an appetite for life, an innate joie de vivre, which had at times been a problem (his teens specifically, when he had seemed hellbent on turning into his father’s mini-me and which still made her shudder at the memory), but he had always thrown himself at the world with excitement and optimism. It had all seemed to culminate in what could only be termed a Happily Ever After — Josh gaining his dream job, a fairytale wedding and then… It had all just somehow stopped.

She had tried asking of course, but he always just replied ‘Everything’s fine’ with a curt smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

It was a lie and they both knew it, but it was a lie she was unable to get past no matter what she did.

Of course the daily slog was draining for anyone — ‘adulting’ as the young people called it these days — she just wasn’t sure why it dragged him down so much. He’d always loved a challenge, but somehow he wasn’t up to regular, everyday life (work, bills, marriage)? He had his father’s charm (for better or worse), a talent he had utilised with ease since a toddler, yet for the past two years both he and Jamie had become increasingly withdrawn and subdued.

She had thought through a great number of different possibilities — workplace bullying or discrimination, marriage troubles (he was so young), money woes, depression — but had not been able to settle on any of them with any degree of confidence.

She wished there was someone or something concrete to blame… She felt like she was watching her son fade away with no reason or explanation, like a changeling child of old.

Eyes unseeing, she looked out at the London streets as they went by. Realising that her hands felt cold she rubbed them together — it was a balmy evening for autumn, but she felt chilly.

When she arrived she could hear music and laughter even from outside the building. Making her way up the stairs it seemed as if the whole place had changed overnight; it was usually glum and a bit drab (the perfect setting for a stabbing if one felt in a dramatic — or pragmatic — mood); but now she could feel elation reverberating, happiness from every flat she passed, people greeting her and asking who she was and — when she explained — telling her how wonderful her son was.

Reaching the apartment, the door wide open, she was greeted with the biggest hug she’d had in years and a joy so tangible that she could almost touch it, the happiness in Joshua’s eyes making her catch her breath. Like something in him had been dead and was now alive again. (And again she wondered at the unhappiness of the past few years.) He was dressed in a golden shirt, with a golden teardrop dangling from one ear and he was wearing more make-up than she approved of — but it were the tight black leather trousers that she tutted over. The trousers on their own were bad enough, but the sides were laced up with golden ribbons and the whole thing was entirely too risqué in her opinion. And that was without considering the stilettos.

However she found the admonishment dying on her lips; there would be plenty of time for telling him off later and he was so happy.

Upon entering the flat she found not only Jamie, who (in a definite first) greeted her with an equally warm hug, but also a veritable mountain of champagne and other alcohol and a ridiculously large selection of food, as well as what appeared to be most of the other inhabitants of the building. The music was loud, the people cheerful and rapidly getting drunk, and in the middle her son, shining so brightly she wished she could bottle it. Jamie (whose hair was now golden white-blonde, a striking difference to the jet-black mane of the past two years) was wearing some sort of gold lamé and black dress… thing, which Josh (eyes dancing) told her was Gucci, and it certainly looked impractical enough to be a genuine designer outfit. How they’d purchased it so quickly was anyone’s guess, but then if you had money then presumably these things could be made to happen.

A minute after she arrived a delivery driver appeared with more food, and Josh immediately asked him to come in and join the festivities. When the youngster refused (it was early and there was plenty more to do that night) Josh merely laughed. “Do you have student loans? Rent payment? Credit card bills? I’ll pay them all off!”

After a moment of confusion they realised that Josh was actually serious — and, what was more important, able to do what he had promised — and they dissolved into tears of gratitude.

Josh hugged them tight and took them through to the kitchen where there was a whole row of delivery people celebrating their good luck, and Josh got his mother a glass of champagne.

Making her way through to the sitting room, wine glass clutched in her hand, Esther observed her surroundings and thought that never had the word ‘heaving’ been more accurate. There was music and loud conversations and a few people trying to dance and a couple kissing so passionately that she hoped they were neighbours and would soon make their way home.

However she discovered Matt and — pleased — asked how he’d gotten there so soon.

“Alex fetched me,” he replied, waving towards the corner of the room where she spied the young man in question, seated in the armchair with the air of a small blond emperor, a can of cola in his hand and a strange smile on his face. It could have been ten years ago, given the jeans and T-shirt outfit, as if the world had moved but he didn’t follow; as if he were still a teenager.

But then hadn’t Jack said something about Time Lords ageing at a different rate? She knew snippets, details relayed by Josh and Jack over the past few years, information that explained much of the more peculiar facets and talents of the former Prime Minister’s son and his unusual family.

She tried to ask Matt a few more questions since she hadn’t seen him since Graduation, mostly enquiring what life was like for a junior doctor, but the noise was too insistent and the words kept getting lost.

However it was lovely for the old ‘Trio’ to be back together she supposed, even as at the back of her mind there was something nagging. She wasn’t sure what it was; it felt like trying to solve the Conundrum on Countdown — all the information was there, it just refused to resolve itself into an answer. All she knew was that something was off, and she couldn’t work out why and the answer was somehow taunting her.

Maybe it was simply that the whole thing was confusing and unexpected; and she once more found herself distracted, thinking about how best to be responsible with the money, mentally running through the people she knew who could advise them financially and help them draw up a pathway forward… Josh was clearly unhappy at work, but now he could probably set up his own company — although something like that would be difficult, they had to make sure they got the best advice possible; and surely Euromillions would have someone to hand to help with the transition… She found herself staring into the distance, trying to wrap her mind around it all. She didn’t want her son to be a cautionary tale, like those who gained unexpected wealth and lost it all, or ruined their lives.

Then a memory suddenly came to her — a lazy evening in front of the TV, during in the short period when she had been seeing Jack, back during Josh’s university days. She had found herself curious, despite herself: Was he as good a lover as he claimed to be? The answer had been yes, and then some. Overall the whole thing had been a very enjoyable affair — for lack of a better word — but she had found him too unsettling for anything remotely serious, despite his talents. (Truly, she had a regrettable taste in men.) Still, she was grateful for the insights and information he had given her. Especially now.

She had scoffed as the weekly lottery numbers had come up on the screen and had remarked something about how pointless it was to buy a ticket, given the odds. Jack had looked at her with that annoyingly smug look that she still hated, and had said that on the contrary it was very easy — as long as you didn’t mind cheating. She had treated this with the contempt that it deserved and the evening had then evolved to include far more interesting events, but she now found herself focussing on the question again. ‘Easy’ how? Did he mean Torchwood could influence the numbers somehow? She wasn’t clear on exactly what Torchwood did, but she knew enough to know this wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Or… there might be other alternatives. And Jack was oddly conspicuous by his absence.

It all seemed too good to be true — was that because it was? Had they cheated their way to a fortune? If so, she had something to say about that… Although she didn’t want to simply jump to conclusions. Maybe they had simply struck lucky and it was all a co-incidence.

Very well, time to talk to her son.

Grabbing hold of Josh (who had just promised to buy someone a Porsche, which was ridiculous and she told him so) she dragged him into the bedroom. (It was a tidier than she expected, but that was not the issue, sadly.)

“Josh, about winning all this money…” she tried to work out how to best phrase it, when he cut her off.

“Oh Alex sorted it.”

She wasn’t sure what she had imagined, but this blank confession wasn’t it. She faltered as she tried to grapple with it, the suspicion turning to anger.

“You mean you- You asked your friend to somehow… cheat or — or — rig the lottery? Joshua, I thought I had brought you up better than this, why do you think money can solve-”

“No no no-“ he said, grasping her hands and almost laughing. “It’s not about the money, we couldn’t care less about that side. It’s just a ruse, a cover. We’ll spend some on you and Jamie’s family of course, but most of it we’ll just give to charity.”

She snatched her hands out of his and brought them up to her face, mind spinning.

“A cover for what?”

His eyes glittered, that strange excitement on his face, the same she had seen when she first came — it unsettled her and she didn’t know why. It was somehow the wrong sort of happy…

“We-” he hesitated and seemed to search for the right words, hands moving as if of their own accord. “We are going to fly away and live in the stars.”

She blinked, taken aback.

“What do you mean?”

“We are going with the- with Alex. The whole universe at our fingertips!”

He spread his arms wide, beaming.

“How long for?” she asked, unease increasing.

“Forever,” Josh breathed, the word like a prayer.

The unease blossomed into full-blown panic. She had to stop this, somehow.

“Joshua — you can’t simply run away from your problems!”

He lifted his chin, that defiance she remembered so well from his teens alive once more, but coupled with perfect assurance — eyes shining, smiling a smile of pure confidence:

“I can; and I will; and I am!”

It was the final straw.

“I can’t believe it — you are just like your fa-”

She didn’t get any further as he interrupted, suddenly furious:

“I am nothing like my father! I am the opposite: I will stick with those I love no matter what. If that means leaving Earth, then so be it.”

“But since when has Jamie-”

“Not Jamie. The Seeker.” A beat. “Alex, whatever. But his name is the Seeker. We want to be with him.”

Esther swallowed, seeing the future much too clearly and, blindsided, but panicked, needing to somehow make them reconsider. She had once asked Jack about the Doctor and exactly how these aliens lived, and she had not liked the answer. Tales of youngsters lost in other universes, or in time. Friends left behind. Wonder, yes, but so much danger… Where this sudden change had come from she wasn’t sure, but she recalled starry-eyed descriptions of the honeymoon. Had they somehow become hooked on that lifestyle? Was that what the past couple of years had been all about?

“I don’t want you to spend your life hanging onto the tailcoats of an alien…”

“No mum, it’s not like that. He is helping us. He is putting his whole life on hold for our sake.”

“You had your honeymoon. You can’t live like that.”

Josh shook his head. She had expected him to get angry or defensive, but he simply looked her straight in the eye, completely serious:

“We can’t live without. We love him.”

She felt winded. ‘The wrong sort of happy’… Oh G-d, here was the reason, but how did any of it fit? Was it another engagement party, just of a different kind? But how? When? Nothing made sense.

“Joshua, you are being ridiculous! What’s gotten into you?”

Just as he was about to answer, the door opened to reveal Alex. He looked from one to the other, then tilted his head and quietly said: “Please don’t argue.”

And as if flicking a switch Josh said: “Sorry. ‘Course not Seeker,” and the argument disappeared.

Esther had never known anything like it. If she knew anything, she knew that her son was impossible to argue with — stubborn, headstrong, intransigent. Knew that he had quarrelled with Alex frequently in the past, easily recalling angry phone calls back in the first year of university when he’d fallen out with Alex for some reason or other and had complained at length about having to share a flat with someone who couldn’t accept that he was wrong!

She looked from one to the other and wondered if there was more going on. She had that weird chill, the same she felt when she suspected that Jamie was speaking telepathically. She knew she shouldn’t resent it, or feel that it was… unnatural, so she kept it to herself, but she didn’t think she’d ever get used to it.

And this was more than Jamie. She knew the way Jack spoke of the Doctor, that borderline worship, and feared that something similar had befallen Josh — or that Alex was somehow… controlling him. It seemed the only explanation. She didn’t understand why, but she took a sip of her champagne and (unhappily) made the decision to make a tactical retreat for now.

“Alex,” she said, attempting a smile, “How nice to see you again. How have you been?”

He shrugged, face blank.

“Not great. Allison broke up with me, and Josh and Jamie were kind enough to put me up.”

“How very considerate of them,” she replied.

She made sure to make her champagne last — she was beginning to get a picture, and she didn’t like it. Something, somewhere, was terribly wrong. But at least she now had an idea where it stemmed from and who to blame. And from there, maybe, a way to make it right…

And for that, she would need a clear head.

As it happened Alex offered to teleport her back and she accepted immediately. She had never teleported before — despite Jack offering — but the chance to speak with him in private was not something she was about to turn down.

Deep breath, as she took a few steps into her sitting room trying to re-orient herself, then turned to face the alien:

“What have you done to my son?”

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing.

“Stopping the argument was a bit obvious, huh? But it was also pointless, sorry. The argument I mean. You could have argued for days and never gotten any further.”

She shook her head.

“What. Did. You. Do? Don’t tell me it wasn’t you.”

For a long moment Alex simply looked at her, silent, but he seemed to go paler. Like the glib facade was crumbling.

Then he sighed, letting his head fall.

“It’s not easy to explain, I don’t really understand it myself. Please believe me when I tell you that it was an accident, and that I am sorry. I tried to fix it but…” He held up his hands, helplessly. “I can’t. I tried everything, consulted with some of the best minds in the universe, but it’s impossible. So now I am trying to make amends.”

“Amends? By taking him away from his home?” She didn’t even try to hide her contempt. “As far as I can tell you lost your girlfriend, so you are taking my son instead.”

She saw him flinch, but his voice was steady when he replied.

“You are not wrong, but it’s more complicated than that. And as for his home…” The youth nodded slowly, as if to himself, then met her eyes again. “I am his home now. That might be the best explanation of what I did. And so now, rather than running away from him and Jamie — which is what I was doing before — I’m running away with them. I owe them that.”

She took a moment to take the implications on board. It made sense, yes. The change she had seen in Josh — in them both — it all made far too much sense. She would need to process it properly, right now however all that mattered was not letting this alien steal them away.

“You don’t have to run. They belong here. If — if what you say is true, then they simply want to be with you. Stay here.”

He shook his head.

“Whether or not they belong here is a different question — and not one with an easy answer when it comes to Jamie — but it makes no difference. I can’t stay. Being here is…” he hesitated. “Is like walking on a high wire. I can do it, but it takes all my concentration, all the time. If I slip up for even a moment, I fall. And end up a drunken, suicidal mess, which is where I was earlier this week. They deserve better than that. The only solution is for them to come with me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” she shot back. “Of course that’s how it works if you construct the argument that way. This isn’t a game, it’s my only child! It’s not been a year since my mother died and now you’re stealing Josh?”

He blinked, concern suddenly on his face.

“Josh’s grandma died? He never said…”

Rubbing his face he sank down on the armrest of the sofa, and she began to see the exhaustion under the facade. A bone-deep weariness that made him seem older than he was.

A pause as he simply studied her in silence, although she had a feeling that he was looking at something else, something only he could see. Eventually he spoke.

“Look. The facts are these: They can’t be happy without me. I can’t be happy here. Ergo they have to come with me or they will be unhappy too. I wish things were different, but it is what it is. I’m doing the best I can.”

“Well colour me unimpressed young man. Do better! You’re supposed to so incredibly clever, but I’m not seeing any evidence of that, just self-pity.”

At that he curbed a smile.

“Those are not mutually exclusive… Look, I’m just trying to be honest. Not much else I can do, you don’t look like you’re going to accept my apology — and I’m not sure I would either if I was in your shoes. But…”

He got to his feet again, then hesitated, before tilting his head and studying her, strangely solemn.

“I can promise you that I will protect him forever. Unto a thousand generations.”

And with that he vanished in a flash.

When everyone had finally left, in the early hours of the morning, Josh sank down on the sofa, gently trying to move Jamie who was half-comatose, the gorgeous Gucci dress crumpled and hir hair a messy golden halo. Not that they cared. What a fantastic evening. After calling his mum he’d called his boss — he had not told her where she could stick her job, just sweetly told her that he’d no longer be needing a paycheque, as well as giving her the details of a far superior hairdresser to the one she was currently seeing. Unless of course she had made a deliberate choice to be five years behind the current trends… (‘Kill them with kindness’ Jack had always said, and it was insanely satisfying.)

Attempting to fight off sleep, he looked up at the Seeker who was slowly beginning to clear up. (No idea where he got the energy from, Josh was wiped.)

“Mum isn’t happy…” he observed, mind drifting back to earlier that night. “She left this long angry voicemail — not sure what she was saying, I just turned it off after she’d said ‘blasphemy’ about five times.”

“She’ll adapt,” the Seeker replied, face oddly blank. “Humans are very good at that. She was in full-blown panic mode when I took her home, so I-” he stopped, and waited for Josh to look up at him.

“I promised her to protect you.”

Josh blinked, half-wishing he was less drunk so he could focus better.

“Why?”

“Because you once told me how she got you a passport when you were only a month old, ‘Just in case’. It’s not like I don’t understand why.”

(He could hear his mother’s voice in his head: ‘Always have your passport up to date, do you hear me? Always. Just in case.’ He knew what it meant: ‘In case someone comes for us. Again.’)

Josh brought up his hands to his mouth, overcome.

“Alex…” he whispered, and his friend came over and gently kissed him on the forehead, then turned to Jamie.

‘That goes for you too,’ he added. ‘No more fighting to simply be yourself.’

Jamie grasped Josh’s hand, almost making him cry out, except he felt the emotional mental impact too.

Jamie was looking up at the Seeker, intense hope and yearning on hir face.

“Could you… could you tell my mum too,” sie asked, and the Seeker sort of paused. They couldn’t read his actual thoughts, but even so they could sense the complex calculations.

“Maybe,” he said eventually.

The Seeker eventually managed to corral them both off to bed.

Once he was sure they were asleep he made his way to the sitting room window and threw it open wide — the night air was marginally fresher and cooler than the stifling air in the flat, even if it brought with it the London night sounds as well, the hum of a city containing millions of souls; a siren in the distance, the sporadic rumble of cars, the last of the night life staggering home… Humans, humans, humans, an endless number spreading across the globe. It felt like home and prison all in one.

Grasping onto the windowsill he tried to still the shakes he could feel wanting to break through.

There was no way out, no way to change course, the path was ironclad now. Was he doing the right thing? Was this the way to make them happy? Or was it merely an excuse to help justify his self-indulgence? He could hear Esther’s angry arguments still ringing in his ears, and she wasn’t wrong…

He shook his head. He wasn’t used to second-guessing everything, didn’t know how to deal with this doubt.

The world was too small.

He looked up at the fading moon, knew that she was sleeping under the same moon, the same stars. He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Yes, he needed to run away. Far and fast.

Chapter Text

A few days later

The Doctor sauntered through the door, taking in the chaos all around — the packing boxes, the removal men, the emotional upheaval that was practically bouncing off the walls — and rocked back and forth, hands in his pockets.

In the midst of the chaos was the boy: superficially unchanged, but from the different reports the Doctor had been given he knew this was far from the truth.

“Hello,” he said lightly. (Softly did it.) “A little bird told me-”

“You mean Roda spoke with you,” the Seeker cut in, brown eyes resigned and yet guarded, and the Doctor hesitated.

“Let’s say that I had several people talking to me.”

The conversation with Roda had been difficult and complicated; somehow they always managed to hit each other’s sore spots. He knew what it was — the Time War looming over them; the thorny relationship they had with their past and their home; his own role in the whole nightmare and the Master in the middle of it all — but knowing the cause didn’t magically solve anything and he wasn’t sure how to resolve the issues.

However he was grateful for the heads up, even if he couldn’t help feeling a little hurt that the boy had gone to Roda and not himself…

“Doctor!” Josh appeared in a doorway, wearing a wonderfully colourful outfit and wrapped in an equally colourful flag (human fashion truly was an incredible thing, he loved the inventiveness). The Doctor quickly ran through several subfolders in his mind and categorised it as the ‘Pansexual’ flag. The youth was smiling from ear to ear and the sheer joy he exuded made the Doctor smile back happily. There was something catching about the clear elation that he couldn’t help but respond to.

Then Jamie appeared behind Josh — sie was golden from top to toe, quite literally. Hir hair was golden, as was hir outfit and tall platform shoes, although the flag around hir shoulders was the Trans one. Sie was radiating the same happiness, albeit a little more restrained.

“Didn’t know you were coming,” Josh said, “we’re just on our way out for an interview with Pink News — but then I’m sure we’ll see you again…” He leaned sideways, catching the Seeker’s eyes. “Right Seeker?”

“Certainly,” the Seeker replied stoically, and the Doctor (despite himself) reached out mentally, feeling the weight of the connection between the three of them — like a wi-fi network that he didn’t have the password for. Well not anymore. He remembered trying to untangle it all back then, and eventually having to concede defeat.

It was unnerving, and Roda’s deep unease and agitation was given new context. Being thrown into this environment with no warning must have been hugely bewildering and unsettling.

And again it made him wonder what had caused the change of hearts. Last he knew the Seeker could barely look at his friends, so why…

Why what exactly? What was happening?

Well, that’s what he was here to discover.

A few days earlier

Almost immediately after Roda’s departure Josh’s mother had called. (And he still hadn’t managed to even get a cup of tea after his long day.)

It had been several years since he’d seen Esther, but the force of her personality had not diminished in the intervening time. He had a vague recollection that she’d had some sort of… liaison with Jack, but then that went for most of the known universe. Although in this case it explained why she knew about things that humans generally didn’t.

What it didn’t explain was why her opening words had been: “Your nephew has stolen my son!”

It had taken a fair bit of coaxing and gentle talking down before the Doctor had been able to begin to unravel what she meant. From how she explained things, the Seeker might as well have beamed Josh and Jamie on board his spaceship for a traditional alien abduction, never to be seen again — all of which seemed a bit over the top until she had added:

“He has… bewitched them, or is doing some sort of alien… mind control! And don’t you dare dismiss me! I confronted him about it, and he admitted it! I will not let him use Joshua as some kind of consolation prize because his girlfriend dumped him.”

The Doctor had opened his mouth, but no sound had escaped.

“I need you to put a stop to it,” she had blithely carried on. “Alex is throwing money and the wonders of the universe at them, so of course they’ve turned into starry eyed idiots, but it’s wrong.” Her voice began wobbling. “They belong with their family.”

The Doctor could see it all too clearly — the Seeker, heartsbroken all over again and seeking refuge in the place where he had found it before… Despite (or apparently because) all the issues. He tried his very best not to groan loudly.

From the picture Roda had given him the Seeker didn’t appear very stable, and he might just have given up entirely. It was a deeply worrying thought and the Doctor’s mind began spiralling out like a three dimensional mind map, adding alarming possibility after alarming possibility.

At the same time he needed to calm Esther — whatever was happening wouldn’t benefit from a deeply worried mother on top of everything else. He began telling her about Donna, to help her understand that ‘leaving’ did not mean ‘unreachable’ (“So friend of mine fell for a guy from the 51st Century and settled down in the future, but pops back for a cuppa with her mum and grandad every Sunday”) but wasn’t sure if he’d managed assuage her fears when another call came in. A call he had to take. Just to make his day even better.

He had sunken further into the battered old seat and idly pondered why he didn’t have a sofa. Or why he wasn’t making his way out of the console room…

The new call had been the Master, crowing in victory.

“Knew he’d keep those pets! He’s a chip off the old block, and no mistake.”

The Doctor, frustrated, wondered if there had been some kind of general announcement and he’d been missed off the list.

However it wasn’t long before Lucy wrestled the phone off her husband and entreated the Doctor to go seek out their son and make sure he was okay. She’d seen an online article about the latest Euromillions winners and had recognised Joshua, after which she had looked up where ‘the pets’ had been living, and quite frankly she wanted to make sure they were properly disinfected before they went off anywhere. That part of London was quite simply filthy, not to mention dangerous, and she dearly hoped her son hadn’t been spending any length of time there, goodness knew what might happen to him…

Of course any place outside of Kensington might as well be a Victorian slum in Lucy’s eyes, but — rather than pointing out the snobbery — the Doctor was grateful to be given a clearcut excuse for going to check on the boy. He wasn’t sure what might be awaiting him (defeat or defiance) but having made a promise to his mother to make sure her son was okay and not dying of consumption or typhus or being murdered by sinister youths in hoodies was an ironclad justification for turning up.

And so here he was. He had decided that a bath and a meal and a clean outfit could be fitted in before running off — if the tot was rigging the lottery he wasn’t hiding, so the Doctor wouldn’t need to expend energy trying to find him and could spare the time to make sure he was marginally less stressed and tired.

The Doctor was painfully aware that he needed to tread gently, it wouldn’t do to lose the boy’s trust now. He waited for the door to close, Josh waltzing out blowing kisses at everyone, Jamie tugging on his other hand, then cleared his throat. The removal men were busy walking back and forth, and the Doctor decided to ignore them.

“How are you doing?”

The Seeker shrugged, as if the question was pointless.

“Terribly,” he answered.

“Why didn’t you-” the Doctor began, but the Seeker held up a hand. “Because I was doing terribly. I was a mess and honestly I still am.”

Looking around, he seemed to come to a decision.

“Let’s go to the kitchen, I think they’re mostly done packing up there so we can have a little privacy.”

The kitchen was indeed empty, looking bare and with half the cupboards open. The Seeker looked around and then pulled himself up to sit on a worktop.

“What do you want?”

That was the question indeed. The Doctor dragged a hand through his hair, from neck to the top of his head, as he tried to organise his thoughts.

“I just want to know what’s happening really. Different people have been telling me different things-”

“And you’re worried,” the Seeker cut in. “And you’re wondering why I didn’t come to you?”

As the Doctor tried to find a response to this (the kid was entirely too smart and perceptive), the Seeker continued, a sudden gleam in his eyes.

“Wait, have you… found a way to fix what I did?”

The Doctor shook his head mutely, and the light was immediately extinguished again to be followed by a small bitter smile.

“Mind you, they don’t want me to fix it even if I could — we actually talked about it — so…” he shrugged helplessly, then carried on from where he’d dropped the conversation.

“But, about not calling you, then I didn’t ‘go’ to anyone instead. Well, except Josh & Jamie, and that was because I knew they wouldn’t question anything. I just wanted to hide and they were… are… my little corner to hide in. But then Roda came looking for me, and by then I think they were worried enough about me that they were willing to let her in. And since she was there anyway, I figured maybe it would be helpful to get an outsider’s perspective. Which it was, after a fashion. She doesn’t understand…” he swallowed, looked away. “Doesn’t understand exactly what I did, but… She has such a different way of looking at things, it was nice.”

The Doctor figured this was probably as much information as he was going to get — the tot was the opposite of an over-sharer, but he was also not avoiding answering, which was good. He had a feeling that the rather terse answers were because the boy was holding himself together through sheer force of will, and all he wanted was to simply pull him into a hug. But he wasn’t sure how welcome that would be, and besides he really needed some more answers — as always, he was the one who had to do the actual ‘parenting’ and try to ensure that the boy wasn’t abusing any privileges…

“And… the lottery?”

He was careful about how he phrased it — antagonising the boy would be disastrous, but it was a pretty blatant (mis)use of power. Easy, yes, but also big and conspicuous.

The Seeker waved it away with a lazy hand gesture. “Just a ruse. A reason for them to be able to disappear with no one asking why.”

‘Esther and the Master were right then,’ the Doctor thought. ‘He is taking them with him.’ The apprehension must have shown on his face, although the Seeker misread it.

“Look, they’re beautiful and charming and it’s marvellous publicity for the LGBT+ community. Plus Josh is Jewish and they’re both the children of single mothers, done good. Josh went to Cambridge, Jamie was a young carer for hir mum before hir mother died… and they’re donating huge sums to Stonewall and Mermaids and the MND Association. They’re enjoying the attention, trust me, and using every inch of it for good. Everyone’s happy.”

The Doctor studied an empty cupboard, keeping his voice carefully neutral. “Except for… Josh’s mother.”

The Seeker pulled a face.

“Ah. Yeah. She came along for the celebration Friday night and she and Josh ended up arguing. I tried to stop it and-” He paused, pressed his lips together. “I did. Josh just… stopped. Like — like flicking a switch. I didn’t order him or anything, just asked a simple question and it was instantaneous.” He snapped his fingers. “Honestly, you should have seen his mother’s face! The whole thing would have been hilarious if it wasn’t so fucking terrifying.”

“Language!” the Doctor admonished, and the Seeker seemed to almost choke.

“I am talking about mind controlling my best friend without even meaning to, and you’re bothered about my language?”

The Doctor hesitated momentarily. The answer was that the language he could control — the rest… was equally terrifying to him. He cleared his throat. Best get it over with… He wouldn’t get a better opening, that was for sure.

“In that case, do you want to explain why you are apparently making this whole thing permanent, or at least semi-permanent, considering… what you have just told me?”

The kid looked down, kicking the heels of his trainers against the cupboard door.

“One of the things Roda said was that I should ask them what they want. The answer is me.” He slowly looked up, caught the Doctor’s eyes. “Do you know what they call me? Their private name for me? ‘The Sun’. They see me as literally giving them light, and when I’m away, they’re in darkness. And that is kinda… literal for them? I can’t- I can’t leave them again, it would be cruel.”

The Doctor took this on board, wishing he had something to offer, some kind of counterpoint, a single argument against, but he had nothing. Had never had any kind of answer ever since the day the boy had shown up at the TARDIS door, scared of his own shadow, and said: “Help me. I think I broke my friends.” And just like in the nursery rhyme not all the king’s horses nor all the king’s men could put them together again.

“Besides, I’m not sure I could? They’re currently the only thing keeping me from imploding again…” A pause. “It’s a reciprocal bond, or whatever you want to call it. I make them happy, and then I — I live off that happiness. Does that make sense?”

He tilted his head and the Doctor swallowed.

“Yes,” he said, his voice sounding strange and choked to his own ears. “Yes, that makes a lot of sense.”

(The world was composed of loss and death, but he knew that the key to survival was to find someone — someone bright and brilliant — and show them all the wonders; their joy warming him, keeping him alive. It was, if looked at through a critical lens, rather parasitic and probably very disturbing, but if it kept you from falling into that pit of darkness and pain and guilt that he always found himself teetering on, then surely it was not a bad thing?

His hearts ached that the boy had needed to discover this coping mechanism so young.)

“So, what are your plans?” he asked eventually, and the boy spread his hands.

“I don’t know. I don’t know how to navigate this. I mean, in some ways it’s the simplest thing in the world, because they’ll be happy with anything I do. I can…” He hesitated briefly before continuing, not meeting the Doctor’s eyes. “I can see why dad enjoys this kind of power.”

The Doctor froze, waiting. This was not a confession he had expected, and he wasn’t sure what it meant.

In his head, Roda, dismayed: ‘You didn’t think any of us deserved to know that the Seeker did something so — so fundamentally like his father?’

He should say something. Something clever and insightful about the evils of that path, of the ease of tiny steps adding up, of… all the things the tot knew already, and voicing them again would feel like an insult to his intelligence.

Eventually the Seeker continued, sounding exhausted.

“Hey, you want honesty, there it is. Basically, my life is just going to be a never-ending balancing act not to give in.”

He rubbed his face and the Doctor fell silent. There was a small part of him that was thinking that maybe this was not a wholly bad thing. That, considering the situation, it might be a valuable lesson for the tot… if he was able to stick to it. If not — no, he wouldn’t allow himself to consider that possibility.

As if reading his mind the Seeker smiled, a strange little smile:

“The Fremen were supreme in that quality the ancients called ‘spannungsbogen’ — which is the self-imposed delay between desire for a thing and the act of reaching out to grasp that thing.”

They were back to stories then. But before he could ask the tot sighed, closing his eyes.

“Uncle? I’m so… exhausted. Just waking up takes so much effort. How do I carry on?”

He opened his eyes again, and the Doctor saw the pain and loss shine back out.

“You seem busy enough…”

The boy waved it away.

“This isn’t difficult.” A beat, then he added: “Remembering to breathe, that’s hard. Every time I wake up, it’s like I’m losing her all over again. And like — I know it’s nothing compared to what you’ve lost, just a single girl…”

His voice wavered and the Doctor immediately stepped forward, wrapping his arms around him. They had covered all the difficult things now, the rest was support and understanding, in as much as he could offer it.

“No such thing as ‘just’,” he said, holding the boy as tightly as he could. “She left you, and it hurts.”

The tot didn’t reply, but seemed to relax and simply allow himself to be held. The Doctor stroked his back and for a long moment simply stood there, hoping that somehow everything would work itself out.

How long the hug would have gone on for would be difficult to say, but a knock on the kitchen door broke them apart.

The Doctor stepped back and the Seeker answered, mask once more firmly in place. The Doctor wasn’t sure how he felt about this, but he was well aware that he lived on a glass house on that score.

“Yeah?” the Seeker asked, and one of the removal men stuck his head in the door.

“Right gov’nor, since your fancy mates have run off and left you in charge — and good on ya, although I guess it ain’t a hardship to help people with money, eh? But can you tell us what to do with the bedroom? It looks like someone threw a bomb into Vogue or summit, and we’re not sure where to start.”

The Seeker thought for a moment, then shook his head.

“Can you leave it until tomorrow? I’m not entirely sure what they want to keep for travelling and what’s to go in storage, and I don’t want you to have to do it twice. Do you mind?”

The guy laughed.

“At the rates they’re paying? I’d wait a month and pack everything ten times over. But sure, we’ll leave it ’till the morning, no problem.”

“Thanks,” the Seeker smiled. “They care a lot about clothes. Not my thing, but I want to keep them happy.”

“I hear ya. My nephew is a drag queen, fabulous like you wouldn’t believe and would bloody murder anyone who so much as looks at his wardrobe. So don’t you worry, we’ll see you right.”

As he left, the Doctor realised that there was one question he had forgotten to ask.

“So, what are you doing? Or where will you be going? Will you take them back to… your planet?”

The Seeker scoffed.

“And do… what? Have them sit around and look at me adoringly day in and day out? Not a chance. No I… Well, I need to get away — away from Earth I mean — so I was trying to think of somewhere… relaxing? Like a holiday, but with plenty to do. By which I don’t mean running around saving planets, something peaceful.”

The Doctor nodded.

“Sounds sensible. And —” he grimaced, “—not that I don’t trust you, but please tell me where you are going? I don’t like getting calls telling me you’ve vanished.”

“Fair,” the tot replied, with a ghost of a smile.

The answer was both surprising and yet flawlessly logical.

“That is… perfect,” the Doctor replied. “Actually perfect. But you can’t stay there forever.”

“I’ll work something out, once I’m less of a wreck. I’m in this for the next… half century at the very least, since taking them away I’m making them my responsibility, I’m well aware of that.” He tilted his head. “Remember when we were abducted? Even back then I realised that I had to look after them, because… Because I have the tools to navigate the universe and they don’t. Something-something-‘Duty of care’. I’ll let you know where we end up eventually, don’t worry.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you, uncle. And thank you for not…”

He hesitated, and the Doctor found himself prompting him.

“Not what?”

He pulled a face.

“Doing that preachy thing you do.”

A frown began forming on the Doctor’s forehead.

“I don’t-”

“Yes you do. But you didn’t. It’s appreciated.”

The Doctor could feel himself bristling, but — considering that they’d just managed a long difficult conversation without arguing — he decided to be the bigger man and let this one go.

“Cuppa?” the boy asked, and he nodded.

“Oh yes, I think tea is very definitely needed.”

A nice cup of tea was just the thing. Something with no stress.

And (of course, clever humans) there was still a kettle on the worktop and a handful of mugs in the cupboard.

The Seeker made the tea and the Doctor simply watched, beginning to feel that the future might be looking up. An honest chat and tea — he hadn’t expected either (certainly not the former), and yet here they were.

Although as the Seeker passed a mug along he asked, innocent as anything: “What’s ‘Eighth Man Bound’?”

The Doctor nearly dropped the mug, staring at the boy in shock.

“No,” he said, emphatically. “No no no no no. No.”

The Seeker frowned.

“That’s not an answer.”

The Doctor shook his head. “And you won’t be getting one.”

The kid, now getting annoyed, was practically glaring.

“But what is it?”

The Doctor stared glumly at his tea and wanted to kick things. Everything had been going so well…

“Where did you even hear about it?” he asked instead.

The tot took a sip of his cup. “Roda mentioned it,” he said, and the Doctor could feel the ill temper from the confrontation settle again.

“Did she now?” he replied, trying to keep his tone neutral, but the Seeker raised an eyebrow.

“Stop it, Uncle. All she said was she wouldn’t judge me for making stupid telepathic mistakes since she’d played ‘Eighth Man Bound’ so I just wondered what it was. I figured maybe something like… what was that thing called? That moral panic some years ago? The Blue Whale challenge? Something like that, but Gallifreyan?”

The Doctor glowered and wished that a) Roda had been less forthcoming with her bonding, and b) that the boy was slightly less intelligent, because as a shot in the dark it was uncomfortably accurate. If not in kind, then in seriousness of consequences.

How to tackle this? His mind was blank, but maybe the best defence was an attack?

“Look. You have an… unfortunately tendency to do very dangerous things and nearly killing yourself.”

Another glare, full-on stroppy teenage mode having now been activated:

“That was one time!”

“And it still has consequences.”

The boy looked down, momentarily chastised, but clearly still resentful.

“I know. But maybe if someone had explained why having all the sex in one go might have negative consequences, I would have behaved differently.”

“Jack should-”

“Shut up! Please. I’m not having this conversation again. I’m begging you. Jack loves sex. Jack thought sex would make a great 18th birthday present for me. Jack did not think through the repercussions of my relative age or the species involved. And everyone has paid the price for that, Josh and Jamie most of all, so why you think that I’ll hear about another dangerous telepathic thing and throw myself at it, head over heels, I don’t understand. It’s pretty insulting, you know.”

The Doctor contemplated his tea, and tried not to scowl.

Jack taking the boy to ‘Your Pleasure Is Our Business Inc’ (or whatever the place had been called) for his 18th had been a most unhappy surprise, and the consequences had been worse than expected. Although it had also become a very valuable lesson…

For the millionth time he wished that he could somehow change time and warn the boy: Physical pleasure is fine, but do not under any circumstances indulge in telepathic sex. The fact that Jamie had discovered telepathic sex more or less instinctively, and that sie and Josh had further decided that they wanted to ‘treat’ the Seeker on their honeymoon was something he’d never even imagined as a possibility. Wasn’t there something about giving matches to paper dolls? It was entirely too apt an analogy, and he still blamed Jack for handing out the matches in the first place.

(The fact that the Master had been pouring metaphorical fuel over everything behind the scenes, merely waiting for a spark, was neither here nor there. It was despicable of course, but not surprising. His hopes for his son were not a secret.)

With hindsight firmly in place he was now very keen to warn the boy off of anything even remotely harmful as a preventative measure. And this was not remote, oh no. It was top-tier danger, and exactly the sort of exotic and unusual thing the tot would be fascinated by.

Speaking almost more to himself than the tot, he began explaining:

“Eighth Man Bound is not something one could do by accident — it requires a great deal of deliberation, but it is also reckless and irresponsible and killed a number of students at the Academy back in the day.”

The Seeker did not appear suitably put out, instead merely repeating his previous question.

“But what is it?”

Seeker by name, Seeker by nature — the Doctor knew that he’d keep going until he got an answer he was satisfied with, and sighed deeply.

“I will only tell you if you solemnly promise to never try.”

“Uncle—”

“Seeker, I am deadly serious.”

He needed to somehow impress on the tot how dangerous this latest idea was — far, far worse than anything he had attempted previously. But despite adopting his gravest face and most serious tone he wasn’t sure the message was going across when the boy practically rolled his eyes in response:

“How am I supposed to make any promises when I don’t know what it is?”

A beat, then the Doctor took a deep breath and re-appraised the situation. Recovering from the shock of the question he was beginning to see how to maybe answer without answering. And possibly even warn the boy off for good.

“Fine. I’ll tell you what, but not how: It’s a way of seeing future regenerations.”

“Ohhhhhh,” the boy said softly.

The Doctor watched silent understanding hit as the tot began turning the idea over in his head. “But the method can kill you?”

“Worse,” he replied quietly. “It can lead to a complete loss of identity.”

That, thankfully, had an impact.

“Oh. Yeah, that is a deterrent and a half… But. Does it work?”

And there was the rub. The Doctor shifted uncomfortably, grabbing the back of his neck.

“It… did. For some.”

He was going to elaborate, talking about how surely the Seeker was by now aware that knowing the future was not a good thing, but realised the boy had gone silent, staring into the distance as his eyes narrowed, before slowly focussing on the Doctor again.

“But would it be actual futures or possible futures? Because the action of observing would inherently affect any future, which would then cascade the issues. And is it only future faces, or is it actually events? How would that work?”

The kid blinked, then shook his head.

“Wow. I think that was a whole 10 seconds where I didn’t think about Allison.”

Hearts aching all over again the Doctor reached out and took hold of the boy’s face.

“It’ll take time and you simply have to work through it all, there are no shortcuts. But — it’s all going to be fine in the end. Trust me, I’m a Doctor.”

That earned him a chuckle.

“Thank you Doctor. And thank you for coming.”

“We-ell, your mother insisted. She was very concerned that you might end up murdered by someone wearing a hoodie or… wearing a hoodie yourself. Not sure which one was worse.”

The chuckle turned into a snort.

“That figures. I guess I should drop by to say hello — my new jacket ought to reassure her. Come let me show you, it’s the one nice thing I’ve managed to achieve in the past week or so.”

The Doctor left a little later, more hopeful than when he had arrived.

Especially since he genuinely didn’t know what he would do if the boy ever went off the deep end.

Elsewhere in London

Lucy watched as her husband eagerly broke open a crate of newly delivered CR&F Aguardente Velha Reserva, his favourite brandy.

Opening a bottle and pouring himself a small glass, he savoured it with deep satisfaction.

“I wonder if the Doctor knows that the main reason I agreed to his stupid ‘Help Protect the Earth’ scheme is because of the alcohol? This is beautiful.”

Lucy clasped her hands together, waiting until he had finished the glass before speaking.

“Darling, about Alexander-”

He held up a hand.

“We do nothing.”

“But-”

He turned to look at her, shrewd brown eyes transfixing her and holding her fast.

“He is exactly where we want him and interfering will only backfire. Tell him to come home for Christmas, we can take stock then of how it’s going. Trust me.”

And Lucy Saxon smiled in acquiescence, once more serene and untroubled.

Chapter Text

42nd Century

“No. Fucking. Way.”

Josh could feel his jaw drop as he stared out the large curved front window of the Seeker’s spaceship.

The spaceship itself was amazing of course — not as mind-bending as the TARDIS, but infinitely cooler in looks. Black on black, like an emo version of Star Trek, but smaller; shaped like a pointed wedge and so sci-fi it made Josh swoon every time he saw it. He had almost forgotten that a spaceship was a mode of transportation, that the point was to go somewhere. Except now that ’somewhere’ was in front of them and he thought he might fall out of his chair.

Jamie beside him was silent in either shock or surprise or both.

“Oh way.”

There was quiet delight in the Seeker’s eyes, the joy of a surprise well delivered, and for a moment it stole Josh’s breath. It was the happiest they had seen him since he’d fallen through their door.

But then Josh had to look back out at the view.

“That is… Wii Sports Resort,” he said, feeling stupid for speaking the words out loud. “Is it like… a life size digital immersive game or…?”

“No, it’s perfectly real.”

Off the looks on their faces, the Seeker chuckled.

“Look, most stuff that people like tends to get made real sooner or later. So here is Wuhu Island.” He extended a hand, encompassing the view. “It has pretty much all the ‘games’, but for real, the buildings in the town are hotels, and it is — not surprisingly — a very popular holiday destination. I thought it’d be nice?”

“It’s like a dream…” Jamie whispered.

“Here’s to Gen Z,” the Seeker muttered, with a strange little smile.

Wuhu Island was a primary-coloured Lilliputian world, with a pointy volcano that had never seen lava, tapering down to tall cliff terraces, which in their turn gave way to gently sloping hills. The tiny town by the sea could have come straight out of a Ghibli movie, and the rest of the island was dotted with trees like leafy tennis balls and palm trees, and two-tone stripy grass stretching over the hills. At one end there was a lighthouse on top of a tall cliff, at the other end a long white sandy beach reached out into the sea.

The Seeker knew that it was a retreat into childhood, but on some level that was the point. He clearly needed this: a diverting haven of uncomplicated games and leisure activities, quite literally a video game brought to life.

It was a tiny kingdom, and above everything else it was safe.

The first day was spent checking into one of the hotels and familiarising themselves with their surroundings. Artificial sunlight slanted across emerald-green fields and grey stone buildings, winking down at them from rows of hotel windows and glinting across the cerulean sea; dinky little biplanes were buzzing along overhead with a reassuring ‘put put put’ sound; and wherever they looked there was activity, humans and aliens running or fencing or cycling or any of the other myriad options available. It was a holiday with training wheels — the opposite of what he would go for on a normal day, but right now it was perfect.

Josh was all excitement, keen to try everything immediately and bouncing from Jamie to the Seeker and back to Jamie, admiring the attention to detail of the landscape and the buildings, the way the playable characters — ‘Miis’ — had been turned into robots, doing all the menial jobs, before asking questions about how it all worked, then getting bored with the Seeker’s technical explanations and interrupting with different questions.

Jamie was very quiet, but the Seeker could sense something brewing within hir — he wasn’t sure what, and he had a feeling sie wasn’t sure either. But he noticed the way sie watched the other visitors, a strange intensity as hir cool blue-green eyes scanned the casual mingling of humans and aliens, and hoped sie would find what sie was looking for — he wasn’t exactly cut out to be a counsellor, especially not now.

In the evening Josh and Jamie decided to celebrate. It in many ways echoed their lottery win, except for the company being intergalactic and multi-species rather than human neighbours, and the scene was a beautiful hotel restaurant, in tones of cool blues with velvet curtains and exotic plants — like something out of a classic movie from the Golden Era of Hollywood — rather than a run-down block of flats.

The dinner was followed by relocation to the main night club, where there was a selection of intoxicants for every species under the suns, and the interior was far more outlandish. There were floating platforms, lit up with fairy lights so they looked like moving constellations against the soft blackness of the walls and ceiling, which for their part were glittering with what might be gemstones or merely cleverly cut glass; either way it felt like being in space, with a dusting of distant stars that seemed to fade in and out depending on level of intoxication and how one moved.

The Seeker, feeling that he could finally relax, did not keep tabs on his friends’ drinking. As the night wore on he realised this might have been a mistake — he had clearly been too wrapped up in his own head, missing the point between ‘Happily celebrating’ and ‘Getting completely bevved’.

“I love everyone in this bar!!”

Josh wobbled where he was standing on the seat, and the Seeker jumped up and grasped hold of him. Catching the drift of his thoughts at the same time, he pulled the drunken human down and forced him to focus. The obligatory bracelet with inbuilt teleport would catch his friend if he fell off the platform, so the Seeker ignored the safety speech at the tip of his tongue and instead concentrated on the more concerning aspect:

“Josh. No. We can’t have an orgy.”

Josh practically pouted. “ButJackshays-” he began, words slurred, but the Seeker cut him off again.

“Stop being Jack the Second, one Jack is more than enough. Also, it’s a spectacularly bad idea — for starters that species over there bites the head off their partners after mating.”

Josh’s beautifully expressive eyes had trouble focussing.

“Sheriously?”

“Yes. Their heads are full of nutritious goodies that help the young develop — and they’re a bit like starfish, they just grow a new head. However, humans don’t work that way as I presume you are aware of. Also you are very drunk and look like you are about half a glass away from throwing up.”

He sighed, and — looking around for Jamie — saw hir resting on the bar. Sie had gone off to get more drinks a good while ago, insisting that sie was fine to carry the drinks rather than just ordering electronically, and the Seeker was not entirely sure how long ago that had been. Keeping a hold of Josh he hit the descend button and a little while later made his way to the bar, Josh in tow.

“You’re… ’maaasing,” Jamie was saying, trying to focus on the bartender through the mist of alcohol that was clearly impeding hir sight as well as hir movements. “Youse t’besht barfender I’vever sheen… Ushed to work in a bar for yearsh… an’youshe jus perfect… Besht ever.”

“Jamie. It’s a robot. C’mon let’s get going.”

“Doeshnt looks like a robot, is a Mii…”

“I know. And yet it is. All the Miis are robots, we went over this.”

Jamie looked affronted at the idea, but thankfully followed without argument when he told hir to follow. There were definite upsides to- No, no he couldn’t think like that.

He watched as they wrapped their arms around each other and stumbled their way towards their rooms, and knew that the irritation he felt was the height of hypocrisy, considering his own re-entrance into their lives complete with his own the alcohol induced near-coma and incapacity, and yet unable not to wish they could have celebrated a tiny bit less.

But the drinking aside, he was pleased — this place was perfect to keep his friends occupied until he was more himself again. And by then he would hopefully be able to work out where to go next.

Contemplating the blank nothing that arose in the future, he forced himself to ignore it.

Joshua was happy and everything was beautiful. The past two years felt like a bad dream, a slowly fading nightmare that in hindsight felt almost unreal. Of course their current reality was magical fun — living in a penthouse apartment, in a beguiling artificial world based on a well-loved game, teeming with different species. He was busy making friends as fast as the translator would let him, expanding his knowledge and understanding of the wider cosmos every day, even as he tried to master ten different sports disciplines all at the same time. Life was ridiculous and wonderful. Their bathroom had three seashells, he could have pop tarts for breakfast every day and you could get really weird alien porn on the tele-screens once you worked out how the menu was configured.

Earth had been dull and stifling and backwards — and it was gone. Of course his mother still rang every day, but now he could tell her about the fun they were having, how they could do anything from bowling to parachuting or simply having a lazy day and go to the beach (in matching Benoit Blanc outfits, naturally).

He had to reassure her that of course they would do something ‘sensible’ eventually, but explained that for the time being they were just waiting for the Seeker to get back on his feet properly. She wasn’t happy with this, but she was many galaxies and millennia away so the worst she could do was yell at him, something he had become immune to long ago.

“Mum,” he eventually said. “Mum, I can breathe. Please stop trying to take this away from me. From us. Anything is possible now.”

They had spent two years simply looking up at the stars; and now the stars (their sun) was here…

To be fair they hadn’t seen much of the Seeker since the first day they arrived — mostly meeting up for breakfast and an evening meal — but he was there.

Josh felt like the whole universe was laid out before him, endless possibilities at his fingertips, and would impulsively take Jamie’s hand and start dancing. Sie would laugh and tell him off, but not before dipping him and kissing him until he was dizzy with love and gaiety.

All they needed now was for the Seeker to feel better and the world would be perfect.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t that easy — both his aliens were more complicated than he was ready to admit, and would need more than fun games to get on their feet.

Jamie felt like sie was in a dream.

Like after sie had first met Josh; or the day when the Seeker allowed hir to see who/what he really was; or their honeymoon. Something out of daydreams and childhood fantasies.

Sie would look up at the bright blue dome of the artificial sky and wonder what lay beyond. At night when the black sky twinkled with stars sie was curious whether the stars were as artificial as the sun or whether the dome became transparent, allowing real stars to shine down on them. Or if maybe they were great kings of the past like in Lion King… the different options seemed equally plausible.

Other times sie would turn off hir translator and listen to the alien babble of the other holiday makers, the unearthly sounds strange and wondrous. The Miis would be walking to and fro, busy with their errands, their chunky metal bodies like childrens’ drawings and their round heads reminding hir of balloons with features sketched on with a sharpie.

Or sie would simply wander along the paths and over the fields; across the big bridge and through tunnels in the mountains; walk barefoot on the beach or feel the spray of the waterfall on hir face, and marvel at the fact that places sie knew from a screen were all around hir.

Yes, they were in a game, in a dream, in a fantasy.

It felt like the whole world was in harmony, as clear and bright as the sound of a tuning fork; a harmony that vibrated through hir in ways that were impossible to explain, but that meant sie would randomly find hirself smiling. Being in a dreamworld was wonderful. Sie would watch hir beautiful husband laugh and dance, and felt like hir heart was too full. They were bathed in sunlight — even if their Sun was wandering off on his own every day — and the warmth seemed to be warming even hir bones.

A Monday Morning was surely coming, but for now sie was simply enjoying the current situation with everything sie could.

Monday came sooner than expected. And it wasn’t a Monday at all. It was a Thursday evening, about two and a half weeks after they arrived.

It started innocently enough. Josh smiled secretively after their evening meal and said he had a surprise. Holding out his hand sie took it happily, a bubble of excitement building.

Hands held tightly he teleported them to the swordplay colosseum which was situated just off the coast — there was a semi-circle of seating on raised pillars, curved around the central circular arena, also on raised pillars. The evening dusk was settling, the sea gently lapped against pillars and cliffs, and glow globes hovering around the edges unobtrusively lit the scene. On Earth there would be barriers and railings around the whole place, but here the teleport bracelets caught anyone who might be careless enough to fall, immediately returning them to where they had fallen from, just like in the game. Jamie found this detail delightfully charming, and half-wondered that Josh hadn’t pretended to fall off just for the sake of drama.

Looking around, Jamie figured that there would presumably be a special fencing match between professionals. Sie hadn’t tried fencing yet, but would definitely like a show.

Then an excited murmur rose from the crowd, which grew in volume as people suddenly looked up.

Jamie followed suit; and hir heart froze in hir chest.

Descending from the sky was a Star Poet, its delicate gossamer-fine wings beating against the balmy air before it daintily alighted on the arena. It was tall and willow-y, its basic shape human but elongated, the purple-lilac body translucent. It had hair-like tendrils waving in the breeze, and bowed gracefully as the audience cheered. Its face was like a porcelain mask, inhumanly beautiful and perfect.

Jamie couldn’t breathe.

Sie felt the clear bright note that had vibrated within hir for weeks shattering into dissonance and tumult; the world going dark around the edges.

It was all real.

All hir childhood fantasies, they were real. This place, it was real. Star Poets, her unknown ancestry, they were real.

The audience were shouting out requests, the words a blur to hir ears, the translator making no difference.

“Tristan and the Isolis!” “The Returned Child!” “The Ice Warrior Empress!” “The Love Song of the Lost!”

Squeezing hir eyes shut and curling up in hir seat, hands over hir ears, sie whispered the old mantra to hirself:

‘You do not have to be good’
‘You do not have to be good’
‘You do not have to be good’
‘You do not have to be good’

Worried, then alarmed, Josh hesitated briefly before wrapping his arms around hir — and in a flash they were elsewhere. Sie could sense grass and the sound of a gentle breeze through trees.

“Breathe,” Josh entreated. “Breathe. Jamie, darling, my love, breathe. It’s going to be fine, it’s just a panic attack, you can get out of it, you’re okay. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I thought it’d be a fun surprise… Just breathe and say the rest of the poem.”

Still shaking, sie managed a breath and then forced hir mind out of the loop and forwards to the next lines.

‘You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.’

Sie could sense Josh’s relief, the way hir own heart slowed down a fraction. Felt the touch of Josh’s hand on her cheek, the brush of his lips against hir forehead, the next lines whispered in hir mind:

‘You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.’

Sie swallowed and leaned further into him, feeling his embrace tighten protectively.

Sie was loved. Sie was protected. Sie was safe.

The feeling of imminent doom was slowly receding, and sie almost had the shaking under control by the time sie got to the end of the poem.

‘Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.’

The words unexpectedly hit differently than they had before and hir eyes snapped open, staring out over the landscape. They were on one of the hills overlooking the small town, the arena a distant dot against the darkness of the sea.

Your place in the family of things.

Hir place? Sie had never fitted in, ever, anywhere. The very idea was a dream, a fantasy… not real.

Except. Except here was the other half of hir equation; the part that had been unknown and lost. With the touch of a single button sie could return to it, hear the music that sie suspected sie would somehow know on some subconscious level…

Sie could feel that tight dark feeling clench at hir insides again and took slow, deep breaths.

It’s real. It’s all real.

But what does that mean?

“Darling…” Josh said hesitantly as he gently stroked hir back. Soothing motions that helped tether hir to the now. “What happened?”

Sie shook hir head. Hir beautiful, wonderful husband; and so singularly oblivious.

How to explain…

“Remember when you met your dad?” sie eventually said, and saw understanding hit.

“Oh,” he said, radiating contrition as he recalled being shell-shocked and unable to process what had happened. “I didn’t think about it that way…”

“Of course you didn’t,” sie replied, resigned. Sie loved him, but was well-aware of his talent for being clueless and thoughtless, not thinking of how his actions or words would impact hir.

Sie had tried to think of it in terms of their age gap, Josh being five years younger, but had been forced to admit that it might be more of a maturity gap, or an experience gap.

As far as she could tell, Josh had spent his teens angrily acting out, conflicted about his sexuality and directing most of his anger at his mother, even as he cruised along daily life and school trading on his looks, charm and intelligence.

Jamie had spent most of hir teens caring for hir mother as she deteriorated, having to manage shopping, bills, medical appointments and the nightmare that was the ‘welfare system’. And at the same time fighting not only against ever-present transphobia and the dread of hostility and bigotry, but also carrying the the fear of being Found Out, of hir alien side being exposed, the consequences of which sie couldn’t begin to contemplate.

The past two years had been difficult for many reasons; and, although sie had appreciated how their loss of the Seeker had matured hir husband, sie had also mourned the way his natural buoyancy had collapsed, leaving him a shadow of his former self. In many ways his bright optimism and appetite for life — not dimmed by cynicism or setbacks — was what sie had fallen for; something to balance out hir own cynicism.

Although it frequently felt like a seesaw, tipping one way or another, and sie often wished there was a way to balance their relationship, some sort of third component to create more stability.

However, seeing Josh bouncing back these past weeks, his joie de vivre returned as if by sheer magic, was a balm to hir soul — even if it had also brought back his impulsive side, his tendency to jump without looking.

“What are you thinking?” Josh asked and sie shook hir head, abandoning hir introspection.

“I don’t know,” sie answered. “I need to… I don’t know. I need to work through some things, clearly.”

“Can I — is there anything I can do?” he replied, obviously wishing to help but not knowing how. And clearly wanting to somehow make up for his previous error.

“Just no more surprises, please?” sie asked, and he nodded acquiescence.

“Promise.”

And with a smile he kissed hir nose.

The unexpected outcome of the whole debacle was that slowly Jamie began to realise that sie could relax. Not just in the regular sense of not having to worry about any of the usual day-to-day affairs, but in the fact that sie could be hirself.

Sie wasn’t even sure what that might be, but two days after the ‘surprise’ sie went along for a ‘swordplay’ session, figuring that re-visiting the place would be a good start for tackling hir issues. Hir opponent was some sort of lizard, its eyes purple, and — almost on a whim — sie decided to let hir eyes go purple too, something sie had never done ‘in public’, ever.

Feeling like sie might faint, the earth didn’t swallow hir up and no angry mob appeared. Instead the lizard smiled with four rows of sharp teeth and (according to hir translator) called hir ‘Cousin’. Sie kept hir eyes purple for the rest of the day and no one cared or even noticed.

Freedom, sie thought. This is what it feels like. To be able to move through the world without fear.

A few days later sie carefully read up on the telepathy guidelines that they had been given when checking in. There had been a cornucopia of rules, most of which the Seeker had dismissed as ‘just common sense — also make sure you don’t shove forks in plug sockets’, but Jamie was glad of them now.

Sie knew some basics thanks to the Seeker’s training, but he was hardly a typical representative, and sie didn’t know if he had taught hir the mental equivalent of ‘Good day to you good Sir’ or a high-five. Sie could ask of course, but he was so distant, so wrapped up in himself, that sie didn’t feel sie could intrude with something so banal.

Since sie had only ever spoken telepathically to three people — hir mother, Josh, and the Seeker — it felt a little like having gone to night school to learn a foreign language and now having to attempt to speak it ‘in the wild’.

Choosing a couple that they nodded good morning to every day, sie initiated a brief conversation that afternoon after returning from a cycling session. (A very slow and lazy cycling session, sie was not a sporty type.)

The species looked a bit like bowling pins with small, bald heads and bulbous bodies, long skinny arms and short stumpy legs, their skin pale yellow with random pink spots. They had no mouths, and Jamie wasn’t exactly sure how they ate or absorbed nutrients, but their eyes (three, pale green) were gentle and friendly.

Plus their love of hats (they seemed to rock a new head-covering every day) made Jamie instinctively like them. Not having any pointers on the species beyond what sie could observe, sie had the impression of a middle-aged couple enjoying early retirement and decided to simply trust hir gut.

Hir gut — to hir immense relief — was right.

They were friendly and chatty and, after initial introductions, started asking questions.

Discovering that sie was from Earth they were surprised — the general consensus apparently being that humans were terrible at telepathy, so hir proficiency was unexpected.

When sie, heart beating, explained about hir part-Arcateenian heritage, there was the mental equivalent of a knowing nod.

‘Ahhh, that explains it. But you’ve grown up on Earth? Poor you, humans lack any kind of mental sophistication. Hope you manage to find your Arcateenian family one day, they’ll see you right I’m sure. Did you watch the performance the other night? No? Well, don’t worry. It was lovely of course, but a little predictable. Would have liked a few of the more modern pieces, not just old favourites…’

Sie wasn’t sure if sie wanted to laugh or cry, but the next morning sie gave the Seeker hir favourite poetry collection. Words sie had clung to over the years (‘Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine’), and that might now help him.

Sie didn’t think sie would need them the way sie had before.

Chapter Text

The Seeker — despite everyone telling him that it would take time — had never quite taken into account how annoyingly long winded and cumbersome the simple task of learning to function (again) would be.

But, not quite understanding why he had become so incapable, he figured that he best take it slow, like the Doctor had said. And at the end was the promise of being back to normal, whatever that meant.

To begin with he endeavoured to get a manageable routine going: Get up, get dressed, eat; then get a canoe and just drift on the sea — or alternatively hire a hot air balloon and float along through the sky instead of the sea.

As he began his attempt at working through… everything, he realised that he was essentially picking up where he had left off four years previously — Josh and Jamie were there as before, except back then he’d run away after their disastrous (whisper it: wonderful) night together and had never dealt with the loss of Allison properly.

Trying to take stock of what had happened back then, he noted that he’d had two major upheavals in the space of a few weeks: First the break-up with Allison, and then the fall-out from his attempt at solace, where he had instead broken his friends.

The latter event had brought about his ‘gap years’ (between that fateful night with Josh and Jamie and Graduation): The two years he had spent on the best mental training the universe could offer, driven by pure dread and terror of what he’d done to his friends. Looking back it was a blur. University and his life Before almost felt part of a different life.

On the other hand, being away from Earth, simply being himself and trying to work out who he was — apart from his upbringing, apart from his human identity, apart from anything he was familiar with — had been unexpectedly freeing.

Spending his time interacting with beings who knew exactly who and what he was, and who were helping him train his natural abilities, appraising him as an equal and fellow citizen of the universe, had been more significant than he had guessed at the time; having been too immersed in tutoring to be analytical.

And through it all he had ruthlessly kept the loss and guilt at bay because he needed to focus on the task in front of him, and he simply hadn’t had the space for heartsbreak.

Earth had felt stifling when he had returned for Graduation.

Seeing Allison again had of course brought everything back into focus, but he had hoped for a final, cordial goodbye. To be able to lay it all to rest — and instead she had taken the embers that he had done his best to suppress and blown them into a new fire. A different fire.

He nodded to himself. Yes. She had looked at him, all of him, and a new possible future had unfurled. A future he had thought dead and gone had suddenly become viable again.

The almost two years since then had been filled with impossible hope and possibility — he had started properly structured studies with Roda and generally tried to work out how to organise his life now he was finally free of Earth and any expectations.

But underneath it all there had been an almost feverish waiting game, a binary whose outcome had felt too perfectly balanced for him to predict an outcome. When the notification had arrived to say a letter had been deposited in the PO box he had set up on Earth it had taken him almost a year to fetch it, such had been his terror of a negative response.

And so, here he was. His hearts torn to shreds for a second time.

Maybe that was the reason for the current implosion — it was four years’ of denial and evasion hitting him all at once, the loss building up and now bursting through the barriers he’d constructed, flooding everything. It was a very sombre lesson to learn: Emotions were like water; they could be held at bay for a while, but the longer you left them the worse the eventual impact would be.

Received wisdom said to drown your sorrows (and he had certainly done his utmost on that front), but he realised that in reality it was the other way round — the sorrows could literally drown you…

Indeed, the maelstrom inside of him almost made a mockery of the peace of his surroundings… He would look up at the blue, blue sky, the ocean encompassing him on all sides, soft waves lapping against the canoe, and it seemed incongruous that the whole world was calm and blue and serene, when he was watching all his hopes and dreams drifting past in his mind, like so much detritus.

He knew the best person to speak with about loss would be Jack… and yet, he couldn’t. Not yet. He couldn’t talk to Jack until he was ready to confess what he’d done to Josh and Jamie, and that time hadn’t arrived yet.

For now he was trying to do what he ought to have done four years ago; accept and process the pain and the loss, until he managed to learn how to just live with it. He knew that he could live without her (the past four years had proven that), it was the Never Again, the final death of all Maybes, that was so hard to accept.

He had met her… seven years ago, in his own personal timeline. They had been apart longer than they had been together so why did the pain feel so fresh? There had to be something Time Lord-y somewhere about time moving differently depending on the circumstances. (Mental footnote: Check Roda’s library.)

She had been nothing more than an interesting girl when they had first met, smart and intriguing and he’d become more curious than expected… But she had said: “I guess it’s nice to see that underneath all the smarts and cleverness you’re only human after all”, and a whole new world opened up — a never expected possibility, a black swan, because she saw something in him that he had never dared to even dream of. And he had known (suspected, presumed) that they could never be if he was honest… that they were too different. And he’d been right.

Their three years together had been marked by the joy of being in love; every day had felt new and fresh (even when they’d been arguing), and he had clung fiercely to every moment because he’d known that time was not on his side. Parting had always been built-in, the agony of loss the only guarantee since that first surprising kiss in the middle of the road.

Operating mostly on instinct, he — for the first time since they had broken up — looked back properly, rather than just letting random memories attack him unbidden.

It was like… building mental (emotional) canals, with sturdy sluices. Let through a small amount of water (pain) at a time, then let it flow to ‘the sea’, a part of him but no longer causing a deluge. Surely that was possible?

Bringing his phone with him, he slowly scrolled through three years’ worth of photos, remembering events and places, the breathtaking happiness and easy camaraderie radiating so brightly that he felt hollow with longing.

“Let it hurt,” he whispered to himself.

Endless pictures from Cambridge, the spaces as familiar as his reflection, whether the colleges (ancient and venerable) or any number of student accommodations (modern and functional), the ACD theatre bar, Jamie’s flat with all of them in silly groups photos; as well as other pictures from their shared history — Allison’s family at Christmas, the circus, NASA, their crazy trip around the world… And pictures from his planet. Allison outlined against an orange sky, a silver leaf in her hand, smiling and amazed.

Forcing himself to dig up the most painful memory of all, he brought back the image of Allison stepping away from him with nothing but fear in her eyes. He had thought it the worst possible outcome, and yet…

He groaned, buried his head in his hands. Look at it logically.

Back then she hadn’t chosen. She had been terrified and had run away, and he had been left with pain and regret and anger at himself for messing up. Could fool himself into thinking that if he’d done things differently she might have stayed.

‘But this time’, his mind told him, its ruthless logic still working with no care for his hearts, ‘This time her decision hasn’t been made out of fear’.

She had made a choice. And had chosen not him.

He could offer her every star in the sky, the universe itself laid out like an offering, two hearts so full of love he felt like he was dying and…

And he could fix it.

Thanks to all his ‘gap years’ training he was mentally now far more able and skilled — it wouldn’t be the nightmarish accident of Josh and Jamie, nor an effective but blunt endeavour, but elegant, crafted with utmost care and consummate expertise.

He scrunched up his eyes, could almost hear his father’s voice: “She spurned you? Well that seems like a rather unfortunate mistake on her part, best take care if it…” It was the same impulse that said: ‘Josh and Jamie are yours, stop prevaricating and pretending to be less than you are, just take ownership already’.

Yes, he’d been right to skirt past the subject when talking to Roda. It wasn’t something he could blame on youthful folly… It was simply just a part of his emotional make-up and he’d have to learn to live with it and make sure he never listened to it.

Turning his analytical mind back to the main issue he repeated the conclusion to himself once more. (She chose to leave you. She chose.)

Last time he had been able to fool himself that he might have affected a different outcome if he had done something different. But this time he had no excuses.

Even if I hadn’t lied, she would still have left.

He stared at the harsh truth and forced his hearts and mind to accept it, in as much as he was able.

The final picture was from Graduation. Her hair shorter, with a fringe and highlights, and smiling proudly in her robes and mortar board. Bright and brilliant, ready for her life to start in earnest. A life he would never be a part of.

He looked at it for the longest time. Their point of departure; how he would be remembering her.

He found a way to print off a copy of the picture and tucked it into the letter, which he kept in the inside chest pocket of his tweed jacket, next to his left heart, like some sort of talisman. A physical reminder.

Our paths diverged, and this was where she bade me farewell.

Slowly, slowly turning from the past to the present, the one thing he clung to was the fact that his friends had chosen him — all he had done was make the choice permanent, but the initial choice had been theirs. It might be the only thing that made the current situation bearable.

After all, he had run away from his friends as much as he had run away from his loss of Allison; his current predicament was not just about letting go of one person, but accepting the other two — and what he had done to them.

The days drifted by, like the clouds in the ever-blue sky, and the Seeker learned that he could wake up and — although consciousness always brought with it the loss — it was no longer crippling; instead becoming more of a constant ache than the searing, breath-stealing void of the first few days.

Then one day after breakfast, before they split up to go their different ways, Jamie handed him a book. Sie seemed more… settled somehow — he had an inkling that something had happened, but being lost in himself and his loss he hadn’t had the bandwidth to pay attention.

He blinked in surprise at the unexpected offering, and sie explained:

“I thought you might like to focus on something other than your own thoughts?”

He looked at the cover. ‘Dream Work’ by Mary Oliver.

“It’s — poetry?”

Sie nodded. “It’s my favourite of hers. I always have it with me.”

Knowing Jamie’s love of books this was quite the recommendation, and he grasped the book firmly.

“Thank you.”

Book in hand, he set off to get a canoe. Drifting was the order of the day.

Once he was in the canoe, rather than just letting his mind focus on the next point on his internal agenda he put a cushion behind his back, picked up the book and started at the start.

The first poem was called ‘Dogfish’ and he nodded to himself — he remembered something about Mary Oliver being very nature-based in her poetry, which proved to be true as he began reading.

Some kind of relaxed and beautiful thing
kept flickering in with the tide
and looking around.
Black as a fisherman’s boot,
with a white belly.

But as he read on, he almost gasped.

I wanted
the past to go away, I wanted
to leave it, like another country; I wanted
my life to close, and open
like a hinge, like a wing, like the part of the song
where it falls
down over the rocks: an explosion, a discovery;
I wanted
to hurry into the work of my life; I wanted to know,
whoever I was, I was

alive
for a little while.

He felt like someone had shaken his soul. He slowly carried on, reading slowly and carefully until the very last lines.

And nobody gets out of it, having to
swim through the fires to stay in
this world.

And look! look! look! I think those little fish
better wake up and dash themselves away
from the hopeless future that is
bulging toward them.

And probably,
if they don’t waste time
looking for an easier world,

they can do it.

He sat for the longest time just staring ahead. Then he read the poem again. And again.

Eventually he sat up properly, looking out over the ocean and gently letting his hand skim over the surface of the water.

There were no fish here. It was an artificial world, removed from the real world of life and death and pain. Which was, of course, why he had chosen it.

And nobody gets out of it, having to
swim through the fires to stay in
this world.

He sat still, watching the horizon for the longest time, the hours ticking by one after the other.

don’t waste time
looking for an easier world

That evening he asked the other two if maybe they should do something together, all three of them, the next day.

Josh readily agreed, happy and surprised, but Jamie smiled.

“I thought ‘Wild Geese’ would help,” sie said, and he looked at hir, puzzled.

“I only read ‘Dogfish’. I think… I mean… I’ve never really read poetry before. But that poem might just have changed my life.”

The words were still echoing in his mind…

Three small fish, I don’t know what they were,
huddled in the highest ripples

He looked at his friends and smiled. Maybe they could be ‘three little fish’ for a little while.

Chapter Text

Over the next few weeks the three of them explored every inch of the island together. They had a picnic by the lighthouse, went to the beach, walked all around the castle, swam in the larger of the lakes, investigated the ‘ruins’, went on a little cruise around the smaller islands and even attempted to climb up the volcano.

“Could we do archery tomorrow?” Josh suggested one evening over dinner. He looked especially handsome and delicious that night, in his half-unbuttoned white shirt and with his hair styled like some 40s matinée idol from the silver screen; although with added eyeliner, multiple rings and necklaces, and high heels. In response Jamie had picked out a floaty sheer turquoise silk shirt paired with short-shorts and knee-high boots; a pearl choker the final touch. It seemed to have the desired effect.

That day they had done ‘the island flyover’, inventing several games on the fly as they swooped and dived in the nimble little biplanes. Jamie’s heart had almost skipped a beat when the Seeker had laughed over the little intercom system — it felt like a corner had been turned and he was finally beginning to be more himself again. His mind, from what sie could pick up, seemed much calmer also, much more like the ever-imperturbable Seeker of old.

It was now evening and they were eating al fresco in the town centre, the whole square filled with tables and glow globes hovering between the buildings to light the scene in the dusk.

“You just want to show off,” Jamie shot back and Josh pretended to be outraged, laying a dramatic hand on his chest.

“How could you say such a thing? I just want to make sure that I don’t lose the skills I’ve built up. You know, really I ought to get a hat. Hmm, yeah. A green one with a feather — like Robin Hood!” He sighed theatrically. “I always wanted to do archery, but mum thought it was frivolous and expensive.”

Shovelling in some more salad, he chewed thoughtfully. “You must remember when I was obsessed with Robin Hood?”

The question was directed at the Seeker, who stopped eating before slowly replying. “I think so. Although you did change interests every fortnight or so, which is probably why your mother didn’t sign you up for anything until you had shown a consistent interest for a prolonged period of time.”

Josh rolled his eyes as Jamie stifled a chuckle.

“Oh shut up, stop talking like a book! I loved Robin Hood for ages, and still do. Grandma had a huge crush on Errol Flynn, so I watched ‘The Adventures of Robin Hood’ over and over again when I was little. Guess I had a crush on him too.” He smiled to himself. “I’m pretty sure one of my girlfriends broke up with me because she liked ‘Prince of Thieves’ and I said Kevin Costner wasn’t fit to polish Errol Flynn’s boots.”

“I like ‘Men in Tights’,” Jamie remarked, as sie helped hirself to more of the strange, multi-coloured cubes that looked like toy building blocks and tasted like sweet potato crossed with pineapple, which tasted amazing with the crunchy savoury seaweed-like fries. “I like my Robin Hood to speak with an English accent,” sie added, with a wink for the Seeker — sie knew that they were both very familiar with Josh’s idiosyncrasies.

“I’ll allow it,” Josh consented, magnanimously, “But Errol Flynn is the Robin Hood.”

The Seeker picked up a bread roll. “Apart from the actual Robin Hood, you mean.”

A beat as they both stopped eating and blinked at him.

A Mii appeared with a tray, asking if they wanted anything, and they waved it away.

“Robin Hood is… real?” Josh asked, looking utterly flummoxed, “Like — real real? Like in the stories, not just some guy with the same name?” and the Seeker nodded. “Sure he’s real. Roda spent… oh, a good while living with him and his merry men. Not sure how long exactly, but a few years I think?”

“Roda… lived… with… Robin Hood…” Josh said, slowly, as if finding it difficult to get the words out. “Why did you never say?”

The Seeker looked at them, nonplussed. “I had no idea you’d be interested. And I was somewhat pre-occupied when she stopped by.”

“True,” Jamie said gently, reaching out and touching his hand, trying hir best to communicate an apology as gently as sie could. “Sorry.”

The Seeker looked uncomfortable. “Nevermind. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to tell you at some point. And she can give you archery tips.” He took a sip of water and tried to smile. “Jamie, how’s your knife throwing going?”

Despite being deeply curious about Roda — like sie had been from the first moment sie had opened the door to the unusual Time Lady — Jamie took the hint and went along with the change in subject. Dragging a hand through hir blonde hair sie pulled a face.

“Not great. I think it’s one of those skills where you have to practise since you’re a baby if you want to be any good.”

The Seeker opened his mouth, paused, then said:

“Why do you want to learn anyway?”

Jamie tried not to tense up, but wasn’t very successful. A month ago sie would probably have deflected, but now…

“Jim from Our Flag Means Death,” sie said, feeling hir heart beating and trying to still the spike of anxiety. Freedom also meant trying to be open and not run away from hir past or the pain therein.

The Seeker appeared to mull this over.

“Isn’t that the gay pirate show?”

“Yeah,” sie replied, “It came out at the beginning of 2022, at the time when mum was… going from bad to worse. It was the last thing we watched together. Mum loved it — she always had a wicked sense of humour — but also there was Jim. It was…” Sie took a long deep breath. “It was the first time I had seen myself on screen. Plus Jim was… secretive and confrontational, but they all still accepted them just as they were-”

Hir voice almost broke.

“Hey, shhhh…” Josh took hir hand and stroked it gently, but Jamie shook hir head, determined to carry on. “Even the name almost fit. Mum said that I just needed to find a bunch of gay pirates, and then I’d be fine… We’d joke that maybe my father was a space pirate. They’re like… the last happy memories I have of her.”

“Darling-” Josh said, deep brown eyes studying hir with that endless love that sie never thought sie would get used to, “-we can totally be gay space pirates! And remember, we need to celebrate.”

“What for?” the Seeker asked, mystified.

“Don’t you know what day it is?” Josh asked, eyes wide and innocent, and the Seeker looked uncertain, as if he was frantically doing a mental run-down of every possible anniversary or important day he could have missed.

“Today we’ve been here for forty days,” Josh said, mischief suddenly dancing in his eyes, and the Seeker laughed and ordered the nearest thing to champagne.

Jamie felt like sie could breathe again. It was hard, this whole ‘opening up’ venture, and yet every time sie stepped out into what looked like thin air, it supported hir weight. Any outsider observing them would think their holiday fun and uncomplicated, never knowing the emotional upheaval below the surface. Nor the way forward that sie and Josh were hoping for.

Ever since he had fallen through their door, ‘Now, he is ours’ had been playing at the back of their minds. But now, ‘soon’ was the word they were focussing on. Their Time Lord, who would soon be theirs for good.

Later that night there was a meteor shower and they camped out on a picnic blanket on the fields above the town, watching the spectacle and finishing the bottle, before ordering another one.

The Seeker sighed, and stuck to water.

“It’s like…” Josh started, empty glass in his hand and head tilted back, full of awe. “Like the inside of your head, but out there.”

Gradually turning to study him, the Seeker sensed that something had changed. Whether it was the alcohol or the heavenly display or something else, the shift was palpable and he wasn’t sure what it meant. Or maybe he was simply scared to find out.

“Stay with us tonight,” Josh continued, reaching out and touching his face. “We miss you.”

Jamie moved closer and leaned hir head against his.

‘Go on. What’s the worst that could happen?’

The question hit him like a metal beam across the chest and he swallowed, closing his eyes.

And with a jolt he realised that what he had been feeling was déjà vu — he had one of them on each side, close enough to touch, an exact mirror of their honeymoon, of that fateful night…

It felt like someone was pouring ice-cold water down his throat, at the same time as desire — banished for years — rose again, hot and exhilarating; the memories returning, beckoning him.

When he opened his eyes again Josh was kneeling beside him.

“Seeker,” Josh whispered, studying him with soft brown inviting eyes, before leaning in; gently, gently capturing his lips — the kiss almost a caress, filled with deep yearning and a passion that was shimmering just below the surface.

Pulling back, leaving the Seeker breathless and aching with longing, Josh studied him in silence for a long moment before getting to his feet, holding out his hand to Jamie and pulling hir to hir feet. They stood over him, studying him with infinite devotion and longing. The most exquisitely matching pair.

“You know where we are. We will be waiting.”

“I know,” he whispered.

He felt like he had woken from a deep sleep, or as if he had been wearing blinders. His friends had been there, but he hadn’t really seen them. Now he did. The beauty, the enticement, the memory of their night together… it was all at his fingertips, all he had to do was reach out, and warmth and love and gratification (adoration, devotion) would be there to chase the shadows away.

And he wanted them. Wanted them so much it hurt.

What if…

He was pinning Josh against the wall; holding him by the upper arms, hard enough to bruise. Josh was not fighting back.

No, he was looking back with adoration — caught in a web; ensnared, worshipful.

‘We don’t mind if you hurt us,’ Jamie was whispering, fluttering in his mind, as lithe and vivid as a humming bird and as achingly beautiful as the song of a nightingale, ‘We don’t mind anything. We are obedient. In every way.’

Josh tilted his head, offering his lips, his very self, in supplication. The peak of human beauty and desire. It would take but the tiniest movement to initiate the passion he knew lay just below the surface. And yet he was frozen.

“You have bought a mansion of love, but not yet possessed it. What’s taking you so long?”

The words were Shakespeare’s, but twisted, the voice his father’s.

He scrunched up his eyes. How was he supposed to concentrate on anything when people kept barging in? First Roda, then the Doctor, now his father… He just wanted to run away from the pain. Was there nowhere to hide?

“You think you can hide?”

The voice cut through him like an electric shock and he turned to see a figure stepping out of the shadows, studying him with ill-disguised disgust. She was looking at him the exact same way she had after he’d dealt with the paparazzi photographer. Like she couldn’t believe her eyes and was more angry and disappointed than she could give voice to.

“Allison?” he whispered, his words faltering, “I thought you didn’t want to see me ever again?”

A laugh from Josh shattered the apparition, and he turned back to his friend.

“She wasn’t ever biddable,” Josh observed, eyes glittering and challenging. “Never understood her place. Not like we do.”

Despair and yearning welling up inside he tightened his grip, pushing Josh flush against the wall and holding him in place with his own body as he greedily captured his mouth; hearing the soft whisper of surrender answering back:

‘Master…’

He jerked awake — sitting bolt upright, hearts beating and breathing as if he’d been running a marathon.

It took a second for him to orient himself, and then he realised…

A dream.

It had been a dream.

Swallowing, throat dry, he scrambled out of the bed and then hesitated. Where was there to go? He was in his own room. His friends were next door, across the hallway, he hadn’t- no, he hadn’t taken them up on their offer. He had been caught up in resisting, working out how to explain it to them, and he must simply have fallen asleep.

He sank back onto the bed, momentarily boneless with relief, even as he cursed his subconscious and all the ways in which his father still managed to make himself at home; the ways temptation snuck past all his defences and demonstrated just how powerful it was.

His insides were shaking and he fought against the rising nausea, hands curling into fists in helpless anger and frustration and dismay.

Eventually he managed to pull himself together; after all, he now had the tools to dispel the effect of the dream and most of the terror. Moving to the middle of the bed — legs crossed, back straight, chin up — he started the breathing exercises needed for the mental task ahead.

‘We’re not three little fish’, he admitted to himself, as his hearts began calming down. ‘I’m the dogfish. If there were three fish, then Allison got away, but Josh and Jamie got eaten.’

Josh and Jamie hadn’t slept much, the night turning from hopefulness to uncertainty to deep disappointment once it became clear that the Seeker wouldn’t come to them. At the very least he could just have stopped by and said ‘It’s too soon’ or whatever the reason was. Josh felt despondency almost like a physical thing.

Once daylight began creeping through the curtains they got up and made their way across the hall, pulling on their kimonos as they did so. The penthouse floor was divided up into four apartments, and — although the apartments were incredibly spacious — the Seeker had insisted on having his own space entirely.

They found him sitting on his bedroom windowsill outlined against the sunrise over the sea, a soft breeze fluttering the curtains from the open window and they could hear the softest sound of waves lapping against the cliffs far below. It felt like déjà vu, but in the worst possible sense. He might even be wearing the same T-shirt and pyjama bottoms.

Knowing the heavy impact of Allison’s loss they had done their best to allow their Time Lord to move on in peace after arriving on Wuhu Island, and slowly he’d become more himself. The past several weeks had felt more like a ‘normal’ holiday — despite the fantastical surroundings — the kind of fun adventure he might think up under normal circumstances.

Except now he looked like had that fateful Morning After the Night Before. Pale and distant. Like he’d seen a ghost. Spooked. It made no sense.

“You never came…”

“No.”

The words were oddly flat, his mind closed (or as closed as it could be). His bare feet on the windowsill seemed to curl up momentarily, but then he turned away and looked back out over the view of the serene sea.

“But…” Josh felt frustration rising and, unable to keep it at bay any longer, flung out an arm, his purple silk kimono billowing dramatically. “Why won’t you sleep with us?”

There, it was out in the open. He felt like Charlie Brown and the football had been yanked away once again.

Except the Seeker shook his head.

“I could sleep, but nothing more. I can’t.”

Mr Fucking Enigma, why couldn’t he ever be straightforward?

“What do you mean?”

Finally he turned, studied them with eyes they couldn’t read.

“Maybe one day, I don’t know. But right now, no.”

They looked at each other, and then at him. They had never asked this question before, even if it had maybe been the main one ever since the beginning.

But… if they were his, then by the same token he was theirs — so they had to find a way out of this ridiculous guilt trip he was indulging in. It was like the sun hiding behind clouds on purpose. A beat, then Josh took a deep breath and stepped forward.

(Be polite. Ask nicely. Yelling won’t help, no matter how much you feel like screaming.)

“Seeker — can we ask something?”

He looked at Josh, cautious.

“Sure.”

“It’s just… why won’t you sleep with us again?” Josh finally said. “We’ve never understood it. It was a wonderful night. The best night of our lives, and you can’t pretend you didn’t love it too: We were there. And you say you want us, so what are you so scared of? We realise what happened and that you think it’s bad, but from what you’ve said you ran away for two years? It doesn’t make sense. And now — you look like you’d seen a ghost… How does any of it make sense? Why are you scared?”

He looked from one to the other, hesitating as a frown formed on his forehead.

“Oh. I never even thought about how you would see it… I know I abandoned you, I did see your messages and I ignored them, sorry. I can imagine that must have been very confusing for you.”

“Is very confusing,” Josh corrected. They thought they had made progress, and yet they felt right back to square one — although at least he was talking now.

“Yeah,” the Seeker acknowledged. “It’s complicated, but… ‘seeing a ghost’ is not far off.”

He passed a hand across his eyes and did an involuntary shudder, then gathered himself again.

“Nevermind. Please can we just say that it triggered stuff from when I was little and I hate my dad and leave it at that for now?”

Instead of shouting ‘No it bloody well isn’t!’ (and silently congratulating himself on his self-control) Josh turned to Jamie for back-up. Sie pulled hir green kimono closer before slowly asking a question.

“Would this have something to do with what your dad was saying at Graduation?”

They remembered that interaction well enough.

“Bingo,” the Seeker replied with a shadow of a smile. “And actually-” He hesitated, then tilted his head. “This might be a good explanation: The path for me to turn into him lies straight through you two. And he paved it.”

“Huh?”

“I can’t- I was two years old…” He abruptly turned, staring out over the serene view, lips pressed tightly together, and Josh felt something snap inside.

“No!” he said, and — before Jamie could stop him — marched forward to where the Seeker was sitting on the windowsill.

“No, not good enough. You left us for two years with nothing — and you say you had an additional two years away from everyone — and now you are here and still nothing! Stop hiding behind your father, you’ve had four years to deal with it!”

Reaching out he grabbed hold of the Seeker’s T shirt, looking straight into his shocked, brown eyes. He felt like the despair was choking him:

“You made us yours and now you don’t want us? Don’t you dare!”

The moment stretched, then the Seeker’s eyes slowly narrowed:

“Josh — let go.”

His voice was forceful and Josh could feel the weight of it, the way his body wanted to obey, and fought it with everything he had. It wasn’t a command (not yet), because the Seeker was still holding back… Josh felt frustration curling in his chest, black and angry and exasperated, and pulled the Seeker closer.

“Make me,” he challenged, and saw the anger flashing back. Finally. His lips curled in triumph.

A beat, as he thought the Seeker might step up, but then the Time Lord shook his head.

“No.”

Disappointed and angry and near tears, yet realising that there was nothing he could do — that the Seeker held all the cards, as always — Josh abruptly stepped back; at the same letting go of the Seeker time with a jerky motion, the nearest he could get to a ‘Fuck you’.

And the Seeker, suddenly unbalanced, flailed against the empty space behind him — and fell backwards out of the window.

Chapter Text

The teleport bracelet caught him within a fraction of a second, and the Seeker found himself back in the bedroom, hearts beating and gasping for breath, the shock reverberating through him.

The fright seemed to latch on to the previous nightmare-induced shock which had barely been buried, and everything was now ricocheting inside him like a pinball machine.

He saw Josh, hands still raised and staring at where the Seeker had reappeared, mouth open in horror. Further back Jamie was frozen in shock, a hand raised to hir mouth.

Reacting without thinking, shock and adrenaline segueing into blind anger, the Seeker grasped hold of Josh and slammed him against the wall.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” he asked and Josh blinked back at him, stunned and struggling to speak, tears in his eyes.

“It was an accident — I didn’t mean — it just happened… I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

He was pinning Josh against the wall; holding him by the upper arms, hard enough to bruise. Josh was not fighting back.

The sudden sense memory was so strong that he almost started shaking. But this wasn’t a nightmare. No, it was far too real.

Josh’s face was stricken and the Seeker could sense the turmoil inside, the shock-induced tears that were on the verge of breaking through.

But more than that… He had kept a careful distance ever since they had arrived, always making sure to keep his friends at arm’s length, yet here was Josh mere inches away, acquiescent and anguished. There was silk under his hands and soft naked skin beneath the silk. Smell and touch and intimacy were making an assault on his senses, after years of self-imposed detachment. He felt his breath hitch.

‘Seeker…’ Jamie’s voice in his mind, as lithe and vivid as a hummingbird, but hesitant, uncertain.

“Please,” Josh whispered, a plea and a prayer, and the Seeker felt something fall away inside.

Leaning in he gently caught his friend’s lips (just a taste, just a touch), and felt himself sink into an embrace, Josh’s arms encircling him as he deepened the kiss; felt Jamie’s mental touch, as achingly beautiful as the song of a nightingale, fluttering and dancing in delight, music welling up and settling light to his inner world — and for a moment he felt nothing but pure joy and completion. This was his. This was his, all of it, all beauty and wonder, and he never needed to be in pain again…

When he finally pulled away (humans needed to breathe after all), Josh was looking at him with pure adoration — caught in a web; ensnared, worshipful. And he heard a soft whisper of surrender at the back of his mind:

‘Master…’

He pulled away so fast and with such speed that he almost fell out of the window again.

For a moment he studied the drop longingly, but knew that running away wasn’t an option.

Four years — four years and he was back at the exact same point again. He sank to the floor, head in his hands, mind ticking over endlessly, yet knowing he was in a loop and that there was no way out.

He almost jumped as a hand was laid on his shoulder.

It was Jamie.

“Seeker?” sie asked, the dancing, luminous joy gone from hir mind and Josh, beside her, looking hurt and contrite and confused all at once. They were crouched down in front of him, and he looked at them sadly, hopelessness settling over him wholesale.

“Why can’t you be like Dobby?” he asked.

Josh sat back on the floor, wishing he understood… anything at all. His heart still hadn’t calmed down from seeing the Seeker topple out of the window — a real life nightmare, and he had caused it — which had been followed by what had for a single golden moment seemed like the answer to all his (their) prayers.

Except here they were again.

Seeing that Josh was still too shaken to speak, Jamie took his hand and spoke up.

“Seeker — you are speaking in riddles. Again. Can you please just explain?”

The Seeker fell silent for a long time, staring into the distance, long enough for Josh to wish that they were on the bed as he tried to get comfortable on the floor, which was harder than the deep carpet suggested.

Which was ridiculous, because he had pushed his best friend out of a window and he deserved a decade of punishments. Oh G-d why was he so impulsive and emotional? First Jamie, now the Seeker — why did he hurt those he loved? Maybe his mother was right after all…

“Very well,” the Seeker said at last, pale and his voice defeated. “I’ll show you. But first — how would you describe my mother?”

The unexpected question finally jolted Josh out of his brooding.

“Your mother?” he asked, surprised. “She’s… a bit like mine. Demanding. In every sense of the word.”

The Seeker nodded.

“Just remember that. Here. This is part of a memory that appeared for the first time four years ago. That night. My father hid it, and made it appear when- well.”

Reaching out, a hand to each of their temples, he closed his eyes.

The room was dark, the only illumination coming from an open door. The perspective was low, the bed and furniture seemingly huge.

Lucy Saxon was against the wall, wearing something shiny and silky. The Master, cool and demanding and dressed in a suit, was holding her by the upper arms, hard enough to bruise.

But the thing that stood out was the look on her face. Josh was more than familiar with Lucy Saxon’s imperious manner towards… anyone basically, but now she looked enchanted. Caught in a web; ensnared, worshipful. And oddly blank, like a doll or a robot.

And she whispered the Master’s name like it wasn’t a name at all.

‘Master...’

The vision cut out, and they blinked against the bright sunshine that was now streaming through the window above them.

“Imagine that was your mum,” the Seeker said. A beat, then he added: “Or your friends.”

“That’s not-” Josh immediately cut in, but the Seeker simply looked at him.

“Yes it is. And — like the bloody house elves — you want it. I thought early on that maybe you could be Dobby, could somehow work out that freedom was preferable, but I don’t think that’s going to happen. It goes too deep. I am… reasonably sure that my father interfered somehow, messing with my mind way back then to affect this exact outcome, although it’s complicated what with Jack’s present and Jamie’s Singing…”

He rubbed his face, and then his eyes softened as he studied Josh. The kind of look that made Josh feel like his whole chest was suddenly too full.

“Add to that my habit of leaning on people and your habit of leaning right back. Maybe… Maybe we were always meant to be. Because — well. The thing my father didn’t foresee, the thing I didn’t realise until you explained, is that it’s mutual. I don’t think he would be able to grasp that — he doesn’t understand love.”

He reached out, gently touched Josh’s face and then turned to look at Jamie also, encompassing them both.

“Throw love into mind control, and what you get is apparently mutual addiction. That’s what it feels like at least. I’m addicted to you. Just you. I’m not in the least tempted to go around and randomly enslave people with mind control, that’s not what I am scared of, although that is obviously what my father has in mind as his long term goal for me. His very own mini-me…”

He sighed, still looking lost, seemingly searching for words.

“But nevermind that. The point is you. You are like… the most incredible bottle of vintage, unparalleled in the whole universe, and I — I can’t taste you, because I could never have just a sip, I’d have to empty the entire bottle. And it’s even worse because you might as well have big labels all over you saying ‘Drink me’, like Alice in Wonderland, and I keep thinking that maybe I could try just a little… But I don’t think I can. I mean, look at what happened just now from a simple kiss.”

Letting his hand drop, exhaustion seemed to settle on him fully.

Josh didn’t think he had ever seen him genuinely pleading. The Seeker didn’t plead: the Seeker decided, the Seeker dictated, the Seeker knew best and overruled any dissent. The Seeker always knew what he was doing.

But now that appeared to be changing.

“I… can’t do this on my own,” the Seeker eventually continued. “I need you to not throw yourselves at me, because clearly my willpower isn’t strong enough. And next time the damage might be far worse than a fall from a window, and far less visible. For you, I mean.”

Josh had been following along until the last part.

“Explain?” he asked, wanting to make sure he knew what the Seeker was talking about, and the Seeker sighed and pressed his palms together.

“You know how there are some people who are born without the ability to sense pain? That’s part of what I did. Well, it might be the best illustration. You won’t feel the pain, but you’ll still be hurt. Pain is an early warning system, and you are lacking that, emotionally.”

“… Come again?” Josh said, glancing at Jamie who didn’t seem quite able to follow either, which was reassuring. Also the Seeker was talking, and he didn’t want it to stop. Being treated like an equal was… unusual, and he thought he might like it.

The Seeker took a deep breath, and explained:

“If Roda was right — and I have no reason to think she isn’t — then you would eventually realise you were hurt. Like someone getting stabbed would recognise that bleeding out is not a good thing. But by then the damage is done.”

“But you wouldn’t hurt us!” Josh protested, incensed.

The Seeker looked from one to the other, the smile vanishing.

“I might,” he said.

Josh wanted to deny it, but something in the Time Lord’s eyes made him stop. Something dark and dangerous that he had never seen before. Or that he had not let himself see. Or that he hadn’t allowed them to see…

Their Time Lord was golden eternity, endless light, a universe contained in a person, and yet — there was a lot of darkness between the stars. Josh held onto Jamie’s hand more tightly, felt the reassuring touch of hir mind. It felt like within the space of 12 hours he had been thrown into the air and he was still hanging there, waiting to fall.

The Seeker took another breath, studied them both:

“It’s not that I’d hurt you hurt you, just…” He made a frustrated noise. “Look — I want you, just like you want me. But if I have you… I’m not sure if there’ll be any ‘you’ left.”

A pause as Josh mulled this over. Jamie had gone completely silent, withdrawing hir hand and simply staring at the Seeker with a look Josh couldn’t decipher.

“But — your mum seems okay… like, most of the time?” Josh eventually tried (because although he didn’t like Lucy Saxon, she was such a strong personality that the whole thing felt absurd) and the Seeker closed his eyes.

“Let’s not go there. I — I want my friends, I don’t want puppets. Do you… do you understand what I am trying to say?”

Josh bit his lip. He understood, yes. Logically it made perfect sense. But emotionally… Emotionally he wanted to be happy, no matter the pain.

Seeing his hesitation, frustration abruptly broke through the Seeker’s calm demeanour:

“Look you literally just pushed me out of a bloody window! I could have died, if we weren’t in a game. What we have is fucking dangerous, and I can’t keep us safe all on my own. And do not say that you trust me, I don’t trust myself! Just… help me.”

The naked plea shocked Josh, even as part of his brain couldn’t help but think that if the Seeker had just said ‘Yes’ they would have been fine…

Then he felt Jamie’s hand in his, pulling him to his feet.

“Seeker,” Jamie said, “Give us a moment?”

The Seeker smiled joylessly.

“Take all the time you want.”

Wish a sigh he let himself fall backwards onto the floor, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Jamie didn’t know how to feel, but sie knew that they couldn’t carry on the way they were.

But Josh — despite everything — didn’t seem to grasp the inherent catch-22.

Sie dragged him back to their own apartment, having sent a quick mental note to the Seeker not to throw himself out of the window on purpose.

His response was affirmative only in the sense that he stated that he didn’t have the energy to get up.

Feeling like life was running away from hir somehow, Jamie sat Josh down in the sofa in the ‘sitting room’ that they never used and wondered how to even begin. The apartment was as beautiful and luxurious as always, but they might have been back in their crummy London flat for all that sie cared about the surroundings.

The main thing on hir mind was that the Seeker was right: They couldn’t continue like they were. What he hadn’t said outright, but which was clear to Jamie, was that this exact dilemma was why he’d run away initially.

Worst (best) of all was the moment when he’d given in — sie felt hollow with longing at the momentary bliss and knew sie couldn’t chide Josh for his actions, because they all lived on a knife-edge where desire could transform into desperate need in the blink of an eye.

“Josh-” sie started, as sie remembered all their plans from the night before, the disappointment still bitter. If only the Seeker had explained sooner, they might not have built up their hopes so much…

“I know,” he said, sounding half-defiant, half-disparaging. “It’s dangerous, we need to back off. But I don’t want to. I don’t care. I’m a terrible person, I accept that.”

Jamie bit hir lip. “No. You’re no more terrible than me — or him. I think he was right: it’s like an addiction. We’re not terrible people, any of us, we just need to find some way forward that doesn’t make him run away again.”

“Run away?” Josh repeated, suddenly alert and eyes wide. “He would leave us? Again?”

Jamie smiled sadly.

“My love, he’s hanging by a thread. He might run from sheer self-preservation. His own, or ours.”

Sie paused for a moment, trying to arrange hir thoughts properly.

“The way I see it, there are three options: One, he runs away and we’re back to-” hir voice wobbled, “-to being in darkness. For good. Two, he gives in and we get to be happy. But, he would hate himself for it. Just look at him now — I don’t know if you picked up on it, but he almost jumped out of the window again of his own accord. I can’t… I can’t let the price of my — our — happiness be his life or mental health. He’s enough of a mess as it is.”

“But-” Josh cut in, “We make him happy! You know it.”

Jamie snorted. It was like hearing the arguments hir own brain was making spoken out loud. However, sie also knew the answer, unpleasant as it was:

“We’re his drug. He’ll binge and then loathe himself and then come back for more. It’ll be a vicious circle. I don’t — I don’t want to be that. I don’t think you want to either.”

Josh looked thoughtful, avoiding hir eyes.

“What’s option three?” he asked, and Jamie hesitated.

“What he suggested: We will be his friends, but nothing more. But equals, for what that’s worth. All of us working to keep each other ‘sober’. Like — like a stool with three legs, or… a tent with three poles — holding it all up together? But we all need to be 100% committed or it’ll fall apart.”

Josh had gone pale.

“So we’ll never-”

“No. Never again.”

He sat still for a long time, staring out into space. Sie could tell all the gears in his brain were grinding away, and waited nervously. Sie had no idea if this arrangement could work, but it certainly couldn’t work without Josh on board.

After was seemed like an eternity, Josh nodded.

“Fine. I’ll do it. I hate it, but if there’s no other option... I can’t lose him again.”

The Seeker was staring at the ceiling, which felt like a good metaphor for his mental state. The future was a blank that he couldn’t navigate, as if the path forward had been rubbed out leaving nothing in its wake. Like that children’s book about a bear hunt: can’t go over it, can’t go under it — except they couldn’t go through it either…

It was like being blind.

He tried to focus on his surroundings (that was a thing, wasn’t it?); the carpet he was lying on, the billowing of the curtain above him, the shafts of sunshine warming his legs, and wondered what would happen if he just never moved again.

Which was stupid.

Why was he suddenly so stupid?

God, he wanted a cigarette so badly. But he couldn’t even move from the floor, and smoking wasn’t allowed anyway. Not that the rules really mattered, he could bend any rules he wanted. And yet he couldn’t fix his friends, or his life.

Maybe he should call the Doctor, except… what could the Doctor do? They’d already tried everything.

He was a hamster in a maze, and there was no way out…

There was very pretty coving, he noticed, to go with the classic look of the whole hotel; he could have been in Europe in the 19th century going by aesthetics alone.

Why can’t I focus?

Where did they go?

I miss them whenever they’re not with me.

I want them to leave whenever they’re here.

What do I do with them?

Maybe regenerating would fix it after all?

At this point the door opened and they returned. His view of the ceiling was interrupted by two faces looking down at him.

‘We had a talk’, Jamie said. ‘And this is what we decided.’

He listened with growing amazement, before eventually scrambling to a sitting position, staring at his friends in bewilderment and wonder, hearts beating.

“You’d do this? Really? You want to try to… hold each other back from the edge?”

Josh nodded, looking unusually serious. “If it’s this or nothing, then I can at least try. I don’t — I don’t want to hurt you again.”

The Seeker took this on board. “Thank you,” he said gravely. “Both of you… Just thank you.”

He took a breath, and another one. He could see the future again. He didn’t know what it contained, but it existed. The thing that had felt almost like vertigo, unbalancing him, was receding.

Sunlight was filling the room, bright and beautiful, and the strange feeling in his chest might be… hope?

Hope, with a hefty dollop of uncertainty.

“So…” he began, hesitant, but determined to somehow be open. “I don’t know what to do now. We can stay here as long as you want, but it was never meant to be more than a stop-gap. However I never worked out where to go next. Is there — is there anywhere you’d like?”

Josh turned to look at Jamie, who suddenly seemed to have lost hir previous confidence.

“Go on,” he encouraged, and the Seeker tried to look encouraging also. He had no idea what might be coming and braced himself.

Then sie seemed to make up hir mind and turned to the Seeker, equal parts hopeful and anxious.

“Would it… would it be possible to… maybe… find my family? The Star Poet side I mean.”

He blinked; then smiled, pleased. The immediate future instantly filled in with clear concrete steps, easy to action.

“Sure. I have friends in the Arcan System, so I know the place reasonably well. Although we should probably like, have some breakfast and pack up and so on. But after that: Next stop Arcateen IV.”

Jamie was now looking at him as if he’d personally hung the stars, clearly breathless at the sheer ease with which a life-long wish was coming true, and (with sinking hearts) he knew that their new arrangement would be the hardest thing they had ever attempted.

Chapter Text

24 November 2030

The Arcan system was laid out before them, and Jamie felt hir heart beating so loudly sie was surprised the others couldn’t hear.

“There are six planets,” the Seeker was explaining. “Oblivion, Devos, Krant and Arcateen IV, V and VI. Arcateen IV is the main seat of government, so I guess we should probably start there, digging through official records and such. Like I said, I have friends here so that should make life easier. Actually — let’s go see them first, they are all scientists so should be able to help.”

Jamie barely heard him. Hir father’s home planets… Possible family… Hir childhood dreams were crashing into solid reality, and sie didn’t know if sie was ready. On the other hand — would sie ever be?

It had all happened so quickly — one moment they’d been trying to patch together whatever kind of relationship they might be having, the next they’d been packing and now they were here. Their own miracle maker…

Sie felt Josh’s mind gently checking in before replying to the Seeker.

“What do you mean friends? Like, proper friends? When did you come here?”

“Hm? Oh after — after…” He faltered momentarily and stared out at the planet below. “After I fucked you up. I was so scared. Scared of myself.”

He turned, the captain’s chair swivelling like something out of Star Trek, and looked from one to the other. “But I needed to understand, to make sure I couldn’t hurt anyone else. I wanted to learn as much as I could about mind control and telepathy, to make sure I was safe to be around. Spent a year with the Xhinn — we’re not going there, they’re, um, very war-mongering — and then another year here. Figured that living amongst a telepathic species would be a good idea.”

He turned back to his instruments, getting ready to land, but Jamie felt a quick mental touch. ‘Don’t worry my little nightingale, you’ll be fine.’

Sie swallowed and nodded. Sie also knew that this was what the Seeker would never be able to do himself — his home was dust and ashes and there would be no possible discovery of long-lost relatives to either welcome or reject.

Holding onto the armrests, watching as the planet grew larger and larger in front of them, Jamie tried to simply count the seconds and focus on hir breathing, except it didn’t work. Inside hir head all sie could hear was the past — specifically Cousin Barry; always the worst of the lot…

“When we were kids she’d never play with anyone, so we used to call her E.T. and say how she was obviously an alien and the mothership would come and beam her up.”

Sie had spent hir whole childhood and youth angry and defensive; terrified of being found to be an actual half-alien, yet furiously protective of hir secret identity. And now they were here, a place sie had never really believed existed.

‘What if…’ sie swallowed, but could sense the other two listening. ‘What if I don’t fit here either? What if I don’t fit anywhere?’

‘I don’t fit anywhere either,’ the Seeker replied, eyes still fixed on the descent, his hands on the controls steady and assured. ‘Guess we’ll just have to create our own space.’

There was the softest, most gentle chuckle from Josh as he reached out and grasped hir hand.

“Speaking as someone who can fit in almost everywhere… it doesn’t really matter. What matters is where you belong. And we belong together.”

Jamie felt tears well up, which was stupid and emotional and now sie was going to look a complete mess…

“That’s what you did, Seeker,” Josh continued. “You made us belong.”

The Seeker’s hands tightened imperceptibly and, although his mind was as shielded as it could be, they felt the emotional flinch.

“To me,” he whispered, the self-reproach shining through, but Josh shook his head.

“To each other. Isn’t that what we just decided, like… a few hours ago?”

The Seeker pursed his lips, a small smile insinuating itself in the corner of his mouth.

”Touché. I stand corrected.”

Having landed and parked, the Seeker got up and pulled on his moss-green tweed jacket.

Josh had asked about twenty times if he was okay, if he needed a break before rushing into something new, and he had pushed back every time. (“I’m fine as long as I have something to do. Please, just stop asking.”)

His hand hovering over the button to release the door-opening mechanism, he turned to them:

“Right, let’s go meet people. A few notes: Beware the gravity — you’ll feel very light. And don’t talk. Out loud, I mean. They can speak, but they get incredibly longwinded. We could literally be stuck in a single conversation all day.”

And with that he opened the door and stepped out, the ramp descending with a soft whoosh of hydraulics, Josh and Jamie following.

Jamie took a long moment before sie was able to put hir foot on the ground.

Seeing hir hesitation Josh held out a hand and the Seeker followed suit. Sie looked from one to the other, hir two brown-eyed boys, and felt something settle inside.

The Seeker, tall, blond — dressed in a tweed jacket, black T-shirt and blue jeans — could have been any British upper class youth; everything extraordinary hidden below the surface.

Josh was the opposite, flamboyant as always. He had chosen the tightest white T shirt known to man, flared green velvet trousers and shiny orange Oxfords; accessorised with a rainbow silk scarf, every bracelet they owned, and his hair (as always) styled just so and charm set to irresistible.

Sie hirself had dressed in a long white T-shirt over purple leggings with white trainers, wanting to somehow mimic Star Poets in colour, if not in actual looks. Treading the line between species and genders, always the odd one out. Sie hadn’t had time to do anything about hir hair, which was still golden, so sie had tied a purple scarf around hir head. At least the colours were more or less okay.

All of them as different as could be and yet, like different parts of a jigsaw, their disparate shapes fitting together into a whole.

‘We belong to each other’, sie thought, and the thought brought comfort. They were Three Little Earthlings, setting forth on a new adventure…

(That could be music, exciting and nervous — yes, maybe one day sie would be able to channel all this into art. One day, when sie wasn’t so anxious; and when sie knew the ending.)

Then sie looked up and tried to take in the new world. Had hir father been here? Had he looked up at this sky?

The sky. Alien sky. Pale pink, like a sunrise. Four moons hanging above the tall jewel-like buildings surrounding them.

Hir father’s world…

Sie felt hirself feeling faint, but Josh put a firm arm around hir and sie forced hirself to focus. Sie’d always had a determination of steel, facing down bullies and prejudice without a flicker, why was sie falling to pieces now? It felt like a million bees were inside hir head, humming, and sie realised sie was also feeling oddly vertiginous.

Right — chin up, eyes front, what would mum think? Sie was here, achieving the impossible.

Allowing hirself to focus on the here and now, sie realised that there was an Arcateenian in front of them, holding three necklaces in their hand.

The hands… For a moment sie could only stare. Their fingers were far longer than human fingers, and ended in a point with no hint of nails. ‘How do they open jars?’ sie wondered, before realising how absurd the question was. However sie was also suddenly aware of the plaster on hir index finger, where sie had torn a nail earlier that morning, right down to the flesh, and the friendly Octopus behind Reception had given hir a blue bandage and some sort of pain killing lotion… Except now sie felt extra ungainly and ugly-step-sister-next-to-Cinderella.

The Arcateenian inclined their head elegantly, ethereally beautiful and serene and tall, and the Seeker responded with a bow of his own before taking the necklaces and distributing them.

‘These are the keys to the mental network,’ he explained. ‘A bit like what the three of us have, but spanning everyone nearby, and with inbuilt translators as well. Beware; it’s very noisy, a bit like tuning a radio and picking up a hundred stations at the same time. Jamie — I’m sure you can sense it all already, but don’t let down your shields; although for you the translation circuit is the most important part, the rest is just adjustment. The necklaces open a different channel as it were, a bit like a hearing aid. Put them on and I’ll help you adjust.’

Jamie took the chain from the Seeker’s hand and for a moment studied the triangular silver pendant, before swallowing and pulling the chain over hir head.

The mental barrage was immediate, but after a second sie realised that what sie had thought of as bees was now becoming voices talking in a Babylonian cacophony. Although even as sie was reaching this understanding, sie had instinctively begun isolating the voices, tuning out the more distant ones and focussing on the ones nearby.

‘Lord Seeker,’ sie heard the Arcateenian say, ‘Let me know when your friends are ready…’

The Seeker nodded and checked in with Josh who looked rather shell shocked. Leaning in to their own personal little network (what Roda had called a ‘mini Matrix’) Jamie observed how the Seeker carefully, but efficiently, helped Josh set up mental barriers; never explaining, but the implication was clear that this was why he had come here back then — in order to master this specific technique.

Afforded an unexpected breather Jamie looked around.

Sie had imagined this moment endlessly as a child, creating fantastical worlds in hir imagination — sometimes fairytale castles, sometimes futuristic spires, the images borrowed from Disney movies and the covers of sci-fi novels.

The reality was different to any fantasy.

Sie had only vaguely taken in the buildings surrounding them, but now sie did so properly. They had landed in a wide circular space which — judging by the other, smaller crafts which were parked next to the Seeker’s ship — was some kind of parking lot. Surrounding the space were buildings, evenly spread out and spreading out in ever-widening circles.

The trunks of the buildings were wide and circular, the walls made of glass or some other see-through material. The different lights inside made them glow like towers of multi-coloured jewels, and sie noticed that on every level there were platforms jutting out at regular intervals — like giant stairs, one on every floor, winding around the buildings. The overall impression was of heavily stylised trees, with the platforms serving as a suggestion of branches.

As sie watched, an Arcateenian stepped out onto a platform and flew up to the floor above, and sie realised that the platforms were stairs… but that for a species that could fly they didn’t need actual stairs or lifts.

None of hir childhood fantasies had imagined anything this wonderful, and sie took in the beauty with undiluted pleasure, trying very hard not swoon at the wonders before hir. Real, actual Arcateenians. Just going about their daily business as if they were normal and not fairy tale impossibilities. Sie felt very strongly that sie might be dreaming.

The Arcateenian who had come to meet them clearly noticed where hir attention had been drawn, and spoke.

‘You like our buildings?’

Sie turned to them, surprised. Not at the question itself, but the tone — it somehow reminded hir of the rather scathing tone of the couple sie had spoken with back at Wii Sports Resort when they spoke about humans’ telepathic abilities.

Uncertain of what they meant, sie replied simply and truthfully.

‘Yes, they are very beautiful.’

The Arcateenian tilted its head a fraction.

‘Oh yes, they most assuredly are very beautiful, we have a whole collection of awards to prove this. A curse upon all architects and their obsession with ‘beauty’, it always seems to come at the expense of common sense.’

Jamie blinked, surprised, caught off guard by the passive-aggressive sentiments — it could have been one of hir music tutors complaining about some new ‘improvement’ at the university.

‘Sorry, did you say architects?’ Josh cut in, hand on hip and with a glare in his eyes, and the Seeker cleared his throat.

‘Well we seem to be all up and running. Maruu, allow me to introduce Architect Joshua and Musician Jamie. Josh, Jamie — this is Astrochemist Maruu.’

The Arcateenian bowed again, adding a flourish with their long and slender hands.

‘On behalf of myself and my colleagues I welcome you to the Arcan Science Institute. Please forgive my outburst, I meant no personal slight.’

Jamie could practically feel the Seeker’s curiosity peak, even before he spoke again.

‘No no, do tell! Last time I was here the whole project was still just in the planning stage, and you were complaining about your old buildings…’

Maruu shot the Seeker a look which Jamie couldn’t decipher at all, their eyes all purple (like hir own could be), but as they turned to lead them towards the nearest building they began speaking — a little reluctantly, but clearly with great feeling.

‘The initial idea was ‘a forest of science’. We should have been suspicious even then. The architect’s vision was some sort of juxtaposition of the ancient past and the science of the future. Unfortunately the result was this.’

Maruu indicated the beautiful structures surrounding them.

‘Unfortunately?’ Josh asked, stopping in the middle of the path, clearly feeling the (second) slight to his profession.

Maruu and the Seeker stopped as well, Maruu turning to study Josh.

‘You are from Earth, yes? Evolved from… monkeys? How would you like a building that required you to swing from branch to branch if you needed to go from floor to floor? Personally I do not live in a bush like my ancient ancestors, and I don’t appreciate the experiment in turning back the clock. Whoever green-lit the only mode of movement between levels being outside should be fired. In the Rain-Season you get drenched.’

‘Flying is the only mode?’ the Seeker asked. ‘I’m sure I came across Arcateenians without the ability to fly.’

Maruu sighed.

‘Yes there are steps-between-floors of course, but only because the equality and disability representatives insisted. They are tiny and narrow and hidden behind optical illusions, since the architect didn’t want them to interfere with their vision. But that is only half the issue — worse by far is all the glass. Oh it’s terribly pretty, but in the Sun-Season everything overheats and the light makes it difficult or impossible to conduct many experiments. We have had to buy an overabundance of screens simply just to be able to work like we ought.’

Jamie was fascinated and realised sie was having another epiphany. (Less stressful than the first, thankfully.) Arcateenians were just people. Ethereally beautiful, sure, but as grumpy and petty as any professor sie had come across in uni, complaining about management and bad design.

But Maruu wasn’t finished.

‘In my opinion, the buildings should be repurposed. They could be used for government offices — civil servants don’t care where they work, as long as the systems storage is adequate — and they look very impressive for off-world visitors.’

The Seeker seemed to consider this.

‘And where would you go? I am sure I recall you volunteering to personally tear down your old labs.’

‘I would re-develop one of the old temples,’ Maruu replied, and Jamie found that sie could discern the clear ring of defiance in the words. Whatever this meant, it appeared to be a controversial opinion. Presumably (sie deducted) it was akin to turning an old church into a block of flats?

Rocking back and forth on his feet, possibly unconsciously mimicking the Doctor, the Seeker was nodding to himself.

‘Plenty of space, that’s for sure, and I’m presuming the interiors could be adapted with relative ease. I guess it’s out of the question due to, um, the Keepers of the Old Faith or history or culture or something like that?’

‘Indeed. Backwards-looking imbeciles. We didn’t overthrow the Theocracy just to keep venerating it… We need to look forwards, to embrace the future, not fawn over the past.’

The Seeker chuckled.

‘Well, here is a future thing for you: Jamie here is part-Arcateenian. Hir mother is human, but hir father was Arcan.’

Maruu’s attention snapped to Jamie in an instant.

‘How is that possible?’

Without waiting for an answer Maruu immediately set off towards a different building, even as they could hear them sending loud mental messages to colleagues in different departments.

Mere moments later Jamie found hirself in a lab, surrounded by curious scientists poking and prodding, to the point where the Seeker stepped in and told them to calm down, before giving a succinct and very science-y explanation of hir origins.

‘Also sie is not a test subject. You may take DNA samples for now, but any further tests will have to wait.’

Jamie smiled weakly at him in fervent gratitude, even as Josh took a firmer grip on hir hand and glared at the assembly.

Academics, never mind that they looked like elfin butterfly people, were obviously single-minded and argumentative wherever one went. They did as many tests as the Seeker would allow, and discussed a lot of different ways of possibly tracing the genetics, leaving Jamie feeling a bit… lost. This was all oddly mundane and sie wasn’t sure how to feel, or how to voice that uncertainty.

However hir brown-eyed boys came through for hir again.

‘I’m sorry, but I’m starving,’ Josh exclaimed, at which point the Seeker declared that he was taking everyone out to lunch — an offer that was readily accepted, although not in the way Jamie had expected.

‘Let’s eat on the roof!’ someone suggested, which was apparently a common habit of theirs.

The Seeker ordered food, which arrived via a small drone-like flying machine as the whole assembly of scientists flew up to the roof of their building. Thankfully the Seeker never went anywhere without his teleport pendant so they flashed up to the circular flat roof; although the Seeker made sure that they were sitting at the very centre, reminding them that this was not a game and if they fell off there was nothing to catch them.

They tried their best to acknowledge this as seriously as they could, but the wonder that had been somewhat lost in the labs was back with a vengeance.

‘It’s like something out of the games we played as kids,’ Josh said, looking around at the assembled Arcateenians, chatting and eating and occasionally flying off to fetch something, the landscape around them beautiful and breathtaking. Beyond the concentric circles created by the science buildings they could see the wider city in the distance — including huge structures, elegant but enormous, the scale dwarfing the surrounding metropolis. Presumably these were the temples which Maruu had spoken about. Further away there were what looked like forests, lilac and orange, and in the far distance pale maroon mountains, jagged and mysterious.

The Seeker smiled, a strangely secretive smile

‘See, all those childhood games were for a reason. I was teaching you to be prepared for the wider universe.’

Josh rolled his eyes at this and then took a discreet picture, his hand hovering over the ‘share’ button.

‘Do you think my mother will appreciate it or not?’

The Seeker looked caught between amusement and guilt.

‘Does she still call every day?’

Josh nodded.

‘Oh yes.’

‘I can take you back to visit any time you like…’

Josh shook his head vehemently. ‘Listen, I’m quite happy having a few galaxies between us at the moment.’

‘Fair ‘nuff. Can’t say I disagree.’

Eventually they managed to focus on the food, at which point Josh paused. At the Sports Resort all food had been carefully labelled (due to the variety of species), but their lunch had arrived in simple white boxes and looked not unlike pastel sushi with no information whatsoever attached.

‘Is it kosher?’ he asked, and the Seeker looked mildly stumped.

‘Um. It’s mostly nectar and fruit. You’re not like, predisposed to diabetes or anything, right?’

‘Guess we’ll find out!’ Josh said and took a bite, grinning. Jamie followed his cue and then had to take a moment to just process the explosion of taste. It was sweet, but rich and tangy, the texture not unlike marshmallows, and sie closed hir eyes to allow it to fill hir up. Tasting a place was a whole different experience that sie didn’t know how to quantify, but that felt very important.

However as the meal eventually wrapped up, Josh leaned into Jamie, speaking privately.

‘Darling… I don’t want to upset you, but what if… all these science people find your family and then your family doesn’t want to meet you? This all moved a lot faster than expected.’

He let the sentence hang and Jamie looked out over the landscape, watching a kaleidoscope of purple butterflies — named ‘Tiny Cousins’ so Maruu had explained — fluttering in the breeze; fragile and ephemeral and exquisite.

Sie knew why he was trying to prepare hir for disappointment. It had only been a year since he’d accidentally met his own father and the disillusionment was still freshly bitter.

‘Guess I’ll wait and see,’ sie said eventually. ‘Even this is more than I expected. And families are overrated.’

The Seeker had been half listening and decided to weigh in with his own brand of encouragement:

‘Well, let’s hope for Jamie’s sake hir father is just a disappointment and not an evil megalomaniac like mine.’

‘Or a cowardly dick like mine,’ Josh added.

Jamie waved a lazy hand.

‘Thanks for the pep talk. But since my father is dead I’m not really expecting a fairy tale…’

From the look they both sent hir, sie realised that this was a lie too far. They knew very well that hir childhood fantasies had been full of daydreams where sie discovered that sie was secretly an alien prince(cess)…

Hir attention wandered again, staring out into the distance. The sun was a hazy disc half-hidden by clouds, and there was an odd dream-like quality to everything.

Sie remembered the dead human body that hir father had possessed laid out on a cold slab in Torchwood, but that had only been a shell.

Who had he been, the Arcateenian who had fallen to Earth and had died at Torchwood’s hand? Scientist or poet or just a traveller? Villain or victim or something else again?

Hir thoughts were interrupted when a small handheld device beeped and one of Maruu’s colleagues excitedly stood up.

‘The result is here!’

Jamie grasped hold of Josh’s hand and tried to steady hir breath.

Time to discover the truth.

Chapter Text

27 November 2030, Arcateen V

“The mountains are stripy!”

“…yes?”

“Stripy! Like — actual stripes!”

“Yes, we already established this Josh.”

“But… stripy mountains! Like… like rainbow stripes? How…?”

There was a deep sigh from the Seeker.

“Many planets have stripy mountains. Including Earth.”

“Earth has stripy mountains? Where?”

“Umm. Peru? China? Look, your lack of education is not my problem and google is your friend. Maybe just try to ignore the mountains and focus on Jamie?”

“Look if I disturb hir I’ll get my head ripped off. But seriously — google will work here?”

Another sigh.

“You called your mother from the 42nd Century and uploaded pictures to Instagram. Yes, google works.”

Jamie heard the arguments but paid them no attention, sie was too busy grounding hirself in preparation for meeting hir Arcateenian family.

It had (technically) been three days since the scientists had identified a genetic link, and the time since had been spent reaching out to the kinsfolk in question and waiting for them to respond — and then arranging a meeting.

Seeing how much Jamie had been fretting after merely two hours, the Seeker had said ‘You’re taking a shortcut’ and had done some sort of clever time-thing which involved Josh and Jamie going on a guided tour of one of the old temples, before being picked up an hour later by the Seeker who announced:

“It’s all sorted, we’re now jumping three days into the future. Jamie — your family is from Arcateen V and is, as far as I can gather, a sprawling clan of artists and musicians and poets. We’re meeting a representative in a few minutes. However they want to speak with you first, are you okay with that? Josh and I will be there, but you have to do the talking.”

So here they were. Trying to focus on something other than hir nerves, Jamie looked around. Rainbow-striped mountains rose in the distance, the sky above was a white-washed sheet with a faint pale green tinge, and if they had been on Earth sie would have suspected snow. However the temperature was mild, and the sun — although a white distant disc high in the sky — was warm and bright. The grass under hir feet was a pale delicate lilac, and in front of them was a forest, extending out in a straight neat line in both directions as far as hir eyes could see. The trunks and boughs were a muted light green and the leaves the same off-white as the sky, and together they formed an impenetrable wall, something like what Jamie imagined Sleeping Beauty’s barrier of thorns to look like, except there were no thorns. Colour-wise effect was like a study in water-colours, with the mountains serving as a rather garish contrast-slash-backdrop.

Behind them a desert of rocky plains stretched out to the horizon, like a sea of blue sand and blue stone — the blues like an iceberg that had been turned upside down: a deep bright blue that felt more unreal than the spectacular mountains looking down on them. It was a colour you could get lost in.

However Jamie’s attention was on the large, elegantly carved circle that served as a gateway to the forested enclave. What was it made of? It looked like glass, but was the same colour as the rocks in the desert. Although what had the Seeker said? He’d said it was a ‘glass desert’… were the desert rocks made of glass?

(The planet was beautiful but deeply strange, and somewhere inside sie could hear a small voice saying: ‘They’re butterflies. I’m part butterfly? Surely this must all be a dream, it’s absurd!’)

On the other side of the circle there was a path, stretching into the dim interior of the forest.

The circle was more than 3 metres in diameter, the width of the band itself maybe 20 centimetres, and it was perfectly balanced on blue spheres crafted from the same material.

Did this circle indicate anything about what kind of people they were? Or was this a standard gateway, replicated a thousand thousand times across the planet?

Sie closed hir eyes.

Breathe.

The Seeker had parked his spaceship on the narrow rocky demarkation between forest and desert, and sie could see the shadow of the craft on the ground beside her, knew that the Seeker and Josh were standing a little to the side, trying to be unobtrusive.

Sie felt faint, hir heartbeat oddly loud in hir ears and her palms sweating, and instinctively sie reached for poetry to keep hirself grounded.

(Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.)

Were there birds here?

Breathe.

What if sie made a terrible faux pas? Why hadn’t sie asked the Seeker about some sort of crash-course in Arcateenian culture? What if sie got hiccoughs? What if-

Oh. Through the circle sie saw an Arcateenian approach. They were walking, not flying, their wings gently billowing behind them and they seemed paler than any others sie had seen, almost blending in against the pale white-lilac of the grass.

Jamie forgot to breathe.

With perfect poise the Arcateenian stopped on the other side of the blue circle and bowed.

“I am Szrii. Welcome to our home. Are you Jamii?”

Breathe.

The Seeker had explained that Arcateenians from Arcateen V had developed a concise and poetic way with words so they weren’t limited to telepathy, but it was still a shock to hear spoken words.

The language was soft and lilting and the translation took a second to come through, leaving Jamie blinking for a moment before doing a bow of hir own.

‘Breathe. Don’t faint. You’re doing fine.’

Sie belatedly realised that the reminders to breathe had been the Seeker all along, keeping tabs even as he had been arguing with Josh. Sie wasn’t sure whether to be touched or annoyed.

“I am Jamie. I…” sie faltered, blurting out the truth of the moment instead of what sie had planned to say: “It seems impossible that I am here. I always dreamed about this moment, but never thought it’d be real.”

There was a long moment as the Arcateenian across from hir seemed to weigh up hir words and turning them over before eventually replying.

“Tell me about your dreams Jamii. We were told that you are a music creator. Is this true?”

“Yes,” sie whispered. “My music is…” sie faltered for the second time, simply laying a hand on hir chest. “My music is here. No one on Earth understands this music. I hoped that, that maybe you could help me?”

Something seemed to shift, and Jamie realised that there was a sudden mental connection.

‘If this is all true, you are most welcome Jamii. I am what in human terms would be labelled your ‘grand parent’. Step through the moon gate and follow me, we will tell you the story of your… ‘father’? Or… ‘begetter’? The humans reproduce in ways that are strange to us.’

There was a definite hint of amusement and Jamie felt a rush of relief. It’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay.

Hir response must have shown on hir face or in hir body language, because suddenly Josh was hugging hir, and sie felt hirself sinking into his embrace.

Could it really be that all hir dreams were coming true?

As they walked through the delicately curated forest Szrii asked further questions about Jamie’s life, which Jamie answered the best sie could.

Sie wasn’t sure what Szrii was looking for, but they clearly found Jamie’s replies satisfactory.

Josh and the Seeker were following, still silently supportive, and after about five minutes they came to a circular clearing.

The trees on the edges, wider and sturdier than the ones they had seen so far, all had platforms scattered at different intervals, some with fabric suspended like sails or gazebo roofs or tents. It all reminded Jamie a little of Lothlorien, but less ornate.

Several other Arcateenians were flying down from the trees to greet them, but before Jamie could speak Josh blurted out: “You live in trees?”

Szrii turned, studying him with what might be surprise. The dark purple eyes didn’t change, so it was hard to tell any expressions.

“It is the Light-Season. We have always lived as close as possible to the sky when the Light comes.”

“But — there was a scientist on, on, Arcateen IV who-” Josh tried to explain, but Szrii cut him off, purple eyes narrowing.

“A scientist? Say no more. Trusting to facts and technology only.”

Jamie could have sworn that Szrii did an actual disdainful sniff.

“We are Star Poets. We seek beauty and truth, not sterile knowledge and formula.”

Szrii turned back to Jamie, and whatever they saw in hir eyes must have satisfied them.

“Come child, sit. We shall sing you The Song of Lree, The Child Who Left.”

Still more Star Poets joined them, some settling on the ground, others hovering in the air, a choir surrounding them on all sides. Then Szrii lifted one delicate hand and the air and Jamie’s mind were suddenly filled with music, a multi-harmony chorale that took Jamie’s breath away.

And then hir… grandmother? … began singing, the key strangely dissonant, although as the story unfolded Jamie understood why. Hir father had not been a prince. Quite the opposite…

Sie realised that the translation circuit was probably butchering a lot of the poetry, but the combination of music and story were plenty to manage for now, especially as some of the story was transmitted telepathically, images and secondary melodies added as necessary.

As the tale unfolded sie tried hir best to sort the story into chapters, to get a sense of the arc:

Lree the problem child.

Lree the ‘teenage’ tearaway.

Lree is sent away to the army.

At this point Jamie marvelled at how — despite all the differences in species and culture — sending a difficult youngster off to join the army ‘to straighten them out’ was clearly something that applied to Star Poets also.

And then sie had to suppress a smile, because the next part could mostly be described as ‘Oh crap, the army might have been a big mistake’.

At this point the song became strangely uncertain and unresolved. Different voices offered different possibilities — Did Lree end up as a traveller? An adventurer? A mercenary? Or even some kind of criminal? — and, as the song petered out, Jamie became aware that they were all watching hir; sustaining the melody and clearly waiting for…. something.

Oh, sie realised. They are waiting for me to finish the story. Sie didn’t need to understand the culture to know that a song with no ending was lacking. And the family had waited 30 plus years with no news or resolution.

Sie couldn’t sing the way they could — hir signing voice had never been great — but sie still had music.

Closing hir eyes sie let the singing fill hir up, until sie had the melody and the pattern ingrained enough to join in.

‘I do not know where he went,
but I know where he ended up…’

There was an almost audible sigh from all around, and sie was glad sie was singing with hir mind, because hir voice would have wobbled and become choked within mere moments. And somewhere deep within sie knew that Mary Oliver had been right all along.

(over and over announcing your place
in the family of things)

That night, as the moons were high in the sky and an celebratory evening meal had been consumed and many many songs sung, Jamie sought out the Seeker and simply hugged him for minutes, unable to give voice to anything but needing to let him know that hir gratitude was incomparable.

The next morning

Jamie looked up at the white leaves of the canopy above hir head, early morning light creating a dizzying jigsaw of white on shadow which was gently shifting as a soft breeze moved through the trees. Turquoise butterflies fluttered by, dancing their own secret dance, heading for the bright white sunlight above. (‘Am I related to those butterflies?’ sie wondered.)

Could it be only twenty-four hours since they’d had their confrontation with the Seeker? Felt like life-times ago.

Sie felt Josh stir beside hir and kissed him to wake him up, too full of joy to speak.

He blinked up at hir sleepily, the most beautiful husband in the whole universe, and sie realised that there were distinct disadvantages to sleeping in trees surrounded by others, with no privacy except a simple sheet…

Sie then remembered ‘The humans reproduce in ways that are strange to us’ and had to bite back a chuckle. Strange, but wonderful also. And currently having to be postponed.

Josh’s thoughts were clearly going in the same direction, although of course he wasn’t put off by their location. Jamie batted his wandering hands away, knowing that he could be far too persuasive and not wanting this to be one of hir family’s first impressions. It was difficult enough to keep their thoughts private.

‘Josh. Stop. Not now.’

Josh pouted, then changed tactics.

Catching the drift of his mind, Jamie’s eyes widened.

‘And no, I’m not Singing. Not here, are you mad?’

‘Maybe they could learn a thing or two…’ Josh replied with a smug smile, and Jamie swore under hir breath.

‘You’re incorrigible.’

‘You married me!’ Josh shot back, smugly. A beat, then he added: ‘Maybe we could ask the Seeker if we could borrow his ship…’

Jamie blinked.

‘I don’t think he wants his spaceship to become our…’ Jamie hesitated, and Josh’s grin widened.

‘Sex cave?’

‘Stop! I can’t- I need to process… Everything. Josh, it’s twenty-four hours since you pushed him out of a window!’

Josh looked up at the sun-dappled foliage above their heads and did a low whistle.

‘That’s crazy.’

‘Isn’t it? And here we are.’

‘With Family Mark 2, whose facebook is a lot fancier than Family Mark I’s.’

At this Jamie sat up, frowning.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Last night, the whole storytelling… it just reminded me of your, um, human family chatting on facebook?’

Sie could only stare. Comparing the sublime and the ridiculous had never been more incongruous.

Seeing the look on hir face, Josh elaborated.

’It was like someone making a post and then everyone adding their own extra information? Just very fancy and with music and stuff.’

Thankfully they were then interrupted by something which might be a breakfast announcement, as Jamie was beginning to feel like hitting hir husband over the head.

But his undiplomatic juxtaposition nevertheless made hir consider hir human family.

Sie never had to return to Earth if sie didn’t want to. Sie was… free.

Which meant sie could tell the truth without repercussions.

And so one evening, almost a week after first meeting hir Star Poet family, sie rang hir grandma.

The mountains looked like the backs of giant sleeping zebras, rising above the gleaming white of the treetops as the moons shone in the sky where multicoloured stars were scattered like a dusting of glitter; sie could hear music (a cousin tentatively composing a new piece); saw a flutter wings as someone headed towards the lakes for a nighttime dip; and noticed a horde of small furry animals softly grunting to themselves as they wound their way across the forest floor.

Soon, hir Star Poet family had told hir, the seasons would change and they would all head back to the ‘city’. Sie felt that sie needed to call while sie was still here, in this magical place where sie had first belonged. Sie felt the ground beneath her, earth and soil and growing things, smell and touch and physical reality tethering hir to this moment, this specific spot.

“Grandma…”

Jamie, despite having made up hir mind, found that sie was still hesitant. Sie wasn’t sure how to pitch this, it was a whole new level of ‘coming out’.

Glow globes hung in the trees, illuminating the scene, and it was so breathtakingly magical that sie momentarily found hirself lost for words. How to ever explain any of this?

Grandma looked the same as always, old and beautiful and her white hair perfectly done, stylish earrings matching her necklace.

“Jamie sweetheart, how are you? Gotten used to all that money yet?”

It took several seconds for Jamie’s mind to process what hir grandma meant, before remembering the lottery win.

“Oh. Um, we kinda gave most of it to charity, I’m not bothered, that’s not why- Look, you know how everyone always calls me ‘E.T’?”

“Listen petal, you know they don’t mean anything by it-”

Sie could feel hir heart beating, and somehow the sound of hir grandma’s voice brought everything back. Hir mother’s illness; hir own loneliness; hir grandma’s unending kindness, doing her best to be comforting and trying to feed Jamie tea and cake whenever she was around (Star Poets had neither) — and an unexpected wave of homesickness threatened to drown hir.

Breathe. Breathe.

Sie pinched the bridge of hir nose, forcing hirself back to the task at hand.

“No, that’s not it. I’m- they’re not wrong. The guy mum slept with… he was an alien.”

Grandma went completely silent and still for so long that Jamie worried that the connection might have cut out. But glancing at the screen sie saw that the call timer was still ticking over, so sie swallowed and carried on.

“He looked human, she didn’t realise until after I was born.”

“Jamie — are you winding me up?”

Sie shook hir head.

“No. It’s why… everything basically. The reason I’m telling you now is… nevermind how, it’s a long story, but I have found my other family. Look…”

Sie held up hir phone and did a 360 degree slow panoramic shot with it.

“The universe is beautiful and so is my father’s home planet. And this is my other grandma. Kinda, ish.”

At this hir grandma’s jaw dropped and she said: “You’re joking!” in a tone of voice that indicated that she was not sure how to take any of this, and was not at all sure Jamie wasn’t having her on. But Jamie simply shook hir head gently and then turned the camera to capture Szrii who was studying her grandma with deep interest. This lead to a three way conversation unlike any Jamie had ever imagined.

Following the talk with hir grandma, and remembering Josh’s ridiculous comparison between the families, sie sent a photo of hirself with hir Arcateenian family to hir human family’s facebook group chat, with a simple caption saying ‘E.T. calling home’.

Hir only regret was not being able to see cousin Barry’s face.

The homesickness lingered, however.

After a few days sie sought out the Seeker, hoping he could make sense of it.

He was in his spaceship tinkering with something technical looking, and looked at hir with a mixture of puzzlement and irritation.

“Yes?”

“Sorry to interrupt, but… I’m homesick and I don’t understand why.”

He carefully secured a connection.

“Emotions are often illogical. I have proper tea if that would help?”

Sie waved the offer— or deflection — away.

“No, it’s… Just. Can we talk?”

He stopped and regarded hir levelly for a long moment, then nodded.

“Sure.”

Sitting himself down on the ramp sie took a seat beside him, watching the beauty of the landscape all around.

“I miss… stupid things. Even things I hate. Like… getting the bus on a dark cold damp November morning, or rubbish tea from the vending machine when staying late at the uni studying, or the way the stairway in our flats would always smell like weed— And everything here is beautiful and I love it, so why do I miss the bad stuff?”

“It’s your home and thus comforting,” he replied simply. “This is all new and it will be taking a lot of work, mentally, to adjust. So you instinctively want what is familiar.”

Sie tried not to roll hir eyes.

“Fine Mr Pop Psychology.”

Pulling at a lock of golden hair, sie knew hir roots were showing and wondered why sie didn’t care.

“I think that what I need is… some sort of… guide? I’m…” sie stopped, before choosing hir next words carefully: “I’m stuck between worlds. I love it here, but I won’t ever be a Star Poet. And I’m not ever moving back to Earth — unless it’s like, future Earth. How do I fit? How do I find a balance?”

The Seeker stared at hir in silence for a long moment, then shook his head.

“Jamie, I’m so not the one you need to talk to. It’ll probably take me centuries to figure all this stuff out for myself, partly because I would much rather be doing something than philosophising.” A beat. “Look, I have literally built my own planet — mostly just to have a place of my own it’s true, but also because it’s easier to create my own space than trying to work out where I fit and how to deal with my heritage.”

Jamie turned this over in hir head before replying:

“Look I don’t know how to say this, sorry, but… At least your mum and dad look alike. I keep trying to process that part of me is… butterfly. It just won’t compute.”

“They’re not ‘butterflies’,” the Seeker shot back, “they are descended from a butterfly-like ancestor.”

Jamie rolled hie eyes.

“Oh you know what I mean!”

He shot hir a dark glance.

“Look, the difference between humans and Time Lords is far, far greater than that between humans and Arcateenians…”

Sie waved a hand. “Please, I’m trying to formulate something…” Sie searched back through hir thoughts. “We both have human mothers and alien fathers-”

“Jamie. I know what you are trying to do, but it’s so more complicated than that. We are not… alike in that sense.”

Sie finally acknowledged how he was clearly not ready to listen without saying his own piece, and forced hirself to take a step back.

“Very well,” sie replied. “Explain.”

He fell silent, turning to look out over the blue glass-desert. Eventually he began talking, and sie listened, hir own thoughts forgotten. Sie didn’t recall him ever speaking about himself in this way before.

“We both started out as lucky accidents. But you stayed that way — you are, physically, far more ‘butterfly’ than I am human. Whereas my father… did a lot of work on me. Before I was born, that is, altering me, fixing me, making me pure. But that’s not-”

He cut himself off, irritably.

“The physical side is only half the equation. Culturally we are both human. And you now have your father’s culture to discover as well, if you wish. Whether you can bridge that gap is an open question, but you have the option. I…”

He held up his hands, turned them over as he studied them.

“I am an echo. The world I belong to is lost, and everything that it once meant is gone. Gone forever. They try to teach me, my elders, but I know I can’t ever be what they are, I lack that shared history and understanding. I’m like my planet — everything looks right, but it’s only a picture. I am…” he hesitated, brown eyes narrowing, “I am an after-image of a memory, a child of the never-was, born to rule a dead empire. Maybe, one day, I’ll know what means.”

He had spoken almost without inflection, but Jamie knew how good he was at shielding his emotions.

“Are you… okay?”

He snorted, quirking a smile and seeming to snap out of the sombre introspection.

“Not at all. And right now I’m so bored I’m going slowly insane. There’s a reason I went to Arcateen IV and not V originally. This is all lovely, but I have nothing to do.”

Jamie flinched at this and began twisting hir hair. He could be so blunt.

“You don’t have to stay just for us…”

He shook his head.

“Course I do. You’re my friends. And you helped me when I was-” he stopped, as if hit by an invisible arrow; a sudden intake of breath, a flinch of suppressed pain. “When I was in the worst of it.”

Sie studied him, realising that his heartsbreak had begun to recede in hir mind and that his stint on their sofa — a wounded, despairing creature, whose loss was so great it felt like it would drown them all — had only been a few months ago. He had returned to his calm and competent persona so thoroughly that sie had forgotten how recent the whole thing was.

And of course their own issues had overtaken the loss of Allison.

“Seeker. How are you?”

Sie re-enforced the question with a more all-encompassing mental query, but he simply shrugged.

“Someone once said that a broken heart is like a broken rib. No one can see it’s there, but it still hurts all the time. That’s how I am.”

Reaching out sie took his hand. Sie knew there was nothing sie could do, but sie could still be there. In response he sighed and closed his eyes, allowing hir a swift mental glimpse of the ache that was still raw within him, before the shields came down again.

‘Thank you.’

They sat in silence for a long moment, before the Seeker moved.

“Are you sure you don’t want tea?” he asked, and Jamie almost wilted.

“Of course I want tea.”

A little later sie was blowing on a mug of perfectly brewed tea and, looking out over the eerie blue-in-blue desert landscape to one side of the Seeker’s parked spaceship, sie began speaking almost without realising it, hir previous thoughts having somehow coalesced.

“I don’t… I don’t know what to do now.”

“Whatever you want,” the Seeker replied, offhand, but sie shook hir head.

“No, that’s not… I… Look, meeting Josh — and meeting you — that was utterly unexpected. I never even imagined finding someone who would love me as I am, nevermind two someones. But this, this place, meeting my ‘other’ family… that I daydreamed about since forever. And now it’s real, now it’s actually happened — I don’t know what to do. Impossible dreams aren’t supposed to come true…”

As he didn’t respond, sie kept talking.

“I started nursery late, because my mum wouldn’t let me out of her sight until she was 100% certain that I wouldn’t accidentally let my eyes turn purple. I was hiding part of myself, always. Except I was still odd… I plain refused to be ‘a girl’, but didn’t want to be a boy either. And people didn’t like that. Not my family, not the other kids, not the teachers, no one. I found some trans friends as I got older, but I couldn’t be honest with them either, not completely. I was always fighting just to be myself, or rather — fighting not to have to fit into their boxes.” Sie frowned. “I know what I mean, even if that was badly phrased. My point is…”

“You can be yourself?” the Seeker offered, and sie nodded.

“For the first time everyone is just accepting me as I am, and I… could be… happy? Like, I look at my life and my future and I have options. It doesn’t compute. I only ever hoped to just survive, I’m not sure I know how to — to live?”

Turning to look at the Seeker, he was studying hir with a look sie couldn’t work out.

“I’m glad I could do this for you. It… means more than I can say that something good has come from this whole mess. Please, be happy.”

Sie lowered hir eyes and swallowed.

“That’s the idea. I’m just not sure I’m cut out for it. Maybe that’s why I’m homesick for the rubbish stuff…”

The Seeker closed his eyes in clear frustration, before catching hir gaze and holding it:

“Jamie! Stop overthinking everything. You’re allowed to be happy.”

They were interrupted by Josh appearing from the forest, looking from one to the other with deep dismay, hands on hips.

“You are having tea without me?”

“No, we are just having tea,” the Seeker replied. “Why are you here anyway?”

Josh pulled a face.

“I’m bored. Do you have a gaming console on your ship?”

A pause as the Seeker’s face became oddly expressionless.

“I might,” he eventually said.

“You’re both as hopeless as each other!” Jamie declared.

Idiots, the pair of them, with no appreciation for poetry.

But sie was smiling.

A week later the family began packing up.

Simple shuttles ferried their few belongings over the mountains and back to the ‘City’, and the Seeker happily did several trips in his ship carrying the family members to save the expense of renting ‘taxis’.

Josh was thrilled and helped out every way he could.

He knew that the Seeker had been terminally bored within about a day and he himself had struggled not long after. Wistfully he had remembered the multitude of daily options at Wii Sports Resort, the delicious dinner options, and their beautifully large private bedroom.

The best human equivalent for their Light-Season stay he could think of was an annual family summer holiday by the sea, living a simpler life for a few weeks until Life beckoned again. Except there was even less to do in a forest than by the seaside — this place was all vibes, which Jamie of course loved and probably helped enormously as sie tried to work through hir complicated ancestry.

Josh had done his best to tell himself that he was being ‘Mr Patient’ and ‘Mr Supportive Husband’ and a whole bunch of other mature and sensible Mr Men and that things would look up soon, but there hadn’t been much he could do.

The ‘City’ promised Life and energy. The beautiful science buildings on Arcateen IV had demonstrated the architectural riches of the planets and he was keen to know more, especially considering the contrast between the beauty of the science buildings and their brief stint walking round the enormous temple and the surrounding city.

The city had been structured on strict grid lines with streets and futuristic monorails connecting the different districts and the buildings had been simple, white with soft corners and crisp lines, the design multiplied across different sizes for the different official government premises. The temple on the other hand had dwarfed everything surrounding it: a gigantic 3 dimensional trapezoid, like an elongated pyramid with a flat top. Further out, he’d been told, were dwelling places. It had all been very space-age-y and futuristic, if rather same-y, but he had a suspicion that a city on Arcateen V would look more like the science buildings and less like a metropolis of bureaucrats.

He was proved right beyond his wildest imaginings.

His first glimpse was from the cockpit of the Seeker’s spaceship, and he literally gasped out loud.

The forest had been to the North of the planet, watercolour pale and muted. But as they soared over the tops of the rainbow mountains a wide valley was revealed. The Seeker told them that it was called ‘The Valley of the Thousand Streams’ (except the Arcateenian name was more poetic), but somehow that hadn’t prepared Josh for the innumerable silver ribbons across the landscape, glinting up at him as sunlight cut through the scattering of clouds in the green-turquoise sky above. On Earth the rivers would be criss-crossed with bridges, but for a species with wings this was not necessary, so the rivers ran pristine and unbroken, even as every island and sliver of land was occupied by colourful buildings, or trees, or both.

Although the landscape was beautiful, it was the architecture that caused Josh to go weak at the knees. The city seemed to consist entirely of buildings that his previous place of employment would have deemed too fanciful, too impractical, too expensive or too plain impossible. Sometimes all four at once. It was like something straight out of his fantasies, magical and fantastical: tall glimmering opaline towers stretching up to the sky; arches that looked like they were made out of pure coloured light curving across trees with foliage the colour of saffron; see-through globes varying from small spheres barely larger than a van to globes five stories high with buildings or even trees inside them; structures of stone, and wood, and glass, and any number of materials that he couldn’t begin to guess at, shaped in fantastical ways and every colour of the rainbow.

Everywhere Star Poets were fluttering to and fro, as well as shuttles of different sizes and shapes and colours, lending the whole panorama a dynamic and moving aspect, the entire vista alive with activity and busyness and breathtaking creativity.

Josh thought he might be in love.

The Seeker was trying to impart information — something about how this city was the first new city to be built after the fall of theocracy, hence the explosion in originality and individuality, but Josh wasn’t able to take any of it in; he was too busy filming continuously.

And as soon as they landed he immediately wanted to walk around to See Everything.

The Seeker took one look at his face and fetched a hoverboard from somewhere in the spaceship (“Here’s one I made earlier”) so he and Jamie could cross the streams, and told them that if they got lost just to call him.

Unable to contain his excitement Josh rang his mother — both from a need to share the place with someone and to show her that this, this wonder, was one reason he’d left. Plus to let her know that he was staying right here for however long it would take to learn Star Poet architecture. Presumably some of his skills would be transferable, but they were working with different materials and technology and concepts, and his whole brain was lit up in excitement. Finally a place where he might be able to build something worthwhile, the kind of buildings he had been dreaming of as a child.

Jamie walked along, holding his hand and silently taking everything in. He wondered how sie could be so silent — he himself was by turns waving his arms around or taking pictures at the same time as talking to his mother. He felt like he might explode if he didn’t let the excitement out somehow.

At eye-level the city was as magical and intriguing as from above, every moment revealing a new fantastical building, as elegant and innovative as the science labs they had seen on Arcateen IV; or a mesmerising miniature waterfall built into a jaunty building spanning several islands over multiple levels; or a tree with thousands of golden teardrop-like flowers, gleaming against blue leaves; or the sight of a whole group of Star Poets, hovering in midair in careful formation inside a large glass bubble, clearly rehearsing a performance, the sphere muting the sound but not concealing the dance-like movements as they moved like synchronised swimmers through the air.

As dusk fell and Josh’s mother said goodbye (with a smile that made him hopeful that she might yet come to accept his chosen life), they settled down under a sculpture depicting moons hovering over a wave, with clever optical illusions inserted so from different angles Star Poets appeared and disappeared as if by magic, Josh’s heart too full to speak. He could see a galaxy of stars above, even knew some of the constellations (there hadn’t been much else to do at night, and every constellation had a story or song attached).

How could the world be so utterly wonderful and contain such marvels? He felt like he had added another pearl on his string of life-changing events:

He was eight years old and seeing the Taj Mahal for the first time.

He was nineteen and meeting a fascinating and intriguing bartender who would upend his entire world.

He was twenty-one and he and Jamie were on their honeymoon and the Seeker said ‘I’ll be your wonder’.

And now…

He was twenty-four and he had seen his future, encapsulated in a city beyond anything he had ever imagined.

A flock of small birds appeared above them, shimmering against the night sky like falling stars, followed by a Star Poet, shell-pink luminous in the darkness, and after a while a silent drone appeared (an oblong, wedge-shaped disk, like a large pale green leaf) which aimed for the building on the island across from them. The ‘building’ mostly resembled a weeping willow — if weeping willows were 10 metres tall with silvery beads trailing down the branches and the central trunk was as wide as a house and contained diamond-shaped openings.

Josh was too tired to film this and by now felt like it might all be a dream, except he wasn’t sure he could have ever imagined something this incredible.

Although at the back of his mind his mother’s parting words kept repeating:

“Hanukkah starts in five days… Do you think you could come back home?”

Chapter Text

Friday 20 December 2030, the Cotswolds

Esther was nervous, although it was something she would never in a million years admit out loud. But her life had been turned upside down just over two months ago and she still felt deeply unsettled.

Unsettled in more than one way….

Of course her life was now financially more secure than it had ever been thanks to the lottery win, of which Josh had immediately given her a large chunk. And although she hated the way ‘The Alien’ had manipulated the system, money was money and she was nearing retirement age. Being able to leave work and know that her old age was secure was a luxury she wasn’t about to reject for pretentious moral reasons.

Besides which, moral reasons couldn’t pay for a picture perfect Cotswold cottage with a thatched roof and a beautiful garden, exactly like she had always dreamed of.

Her friends were very happy for her, but also surprised at her sudden impulsiveness: “Of course we always knew you wanted a countryside cottage, but rushing isn’t like you Esther, are you sure this money hasn’t gone to your head? What will you do in a little village?”

“I haven’t sold my London flat yet,” she retorted; although she had moved. For reasons she was not willing to examine too closely she had needed a clean break, and the money had helped things to move along swiftly. The cottage had only needed a few cosmetic touches, the main one being dealing with the over-abundance of outdated floral wallpaper and carpets. But hiring a few local tradesmen to paint the entire cottage white on the inside and lay simple grey carpets had provided a nice clean background for her furniture and the whole undertaking had taken less than a month.

Of course what her friends were actually worrying about was the drastic change from city to country; her rejoinder to this had been: “Remember when we would get drunk and look up our dream houses? I kept spreadsheets.”

To which her friends laughed and replied: “Of course you did!” which to Esther’s ears sounded suspiciously like, “No wonder you never found a husband”.

It didn’t help that they also chided her for not being happier with her ‘good fortune’, not knowing that having her fantasies come true mostly felt like a consolation prize since the price had been falling out with her son.

She still rang him every day, even as it felt like he was slipping further and further out of her hands.

Except now he was finally back — at least for a few days. And she was nervous.

Standing in the doorway of the cottage, deceptively calm in a soft brown woollen dress, annoyed at how the bra straps were digging into her shoulders and the way her back ached, she watched Josh and Jamie walk up the pathway, shivering in the cold and damp December weather, their attire wholly unsuitable. (No change there, clearly. Their outfits were floaty and sparkly, more carnival than mid-winter.) They looked happy and healthy, having lost the gaunt and listless look that had so haunted her over the past couple of years, yet she wished she could attribute the change to anything other than ‘The Alien’.

‘The Alien’ was following behind the other two, more sensibly dressed in jeans and a moss-green tweed jacket, and looking perfectly, infuriatingly, normal. Josh had insisted that Alex had to come, and she had unhappily acquiesced. He was also dragging along an enormous suitcase, looking like a devoted friend helping out, rather than the usurper she knew him to be.

“Finally you return! Two months of holiday without a single visit, I’m surprised you haven’t become permanently horizontal from the lack of activity-”

Josh completely ignored her tirade and just hugged her for the longest time, and she wanted to keep him there, always — her beautiful, flamboyant son. Wondered if there was any way of enticing him to stay, but she suspected not… The hours long phone call a few days previously was proof enough. He had found something amongst the stars that she could never match, his enthusiasm so infectious that she had almost forgotten to be angry.

For now he seemed determined to pretend that everything was fine, amazed at the speed with which she had moved and immediately demanding a tour of the cottage. It was small but well-proportioned — in terms of floor space the place was hardly bigger than her London flat, but in every other way the change was profound.

The tour was followed by a walk round the garden, Josh and Jamie impatiently opting to wrap themselves in blankets to stay warm rather than change their clothes.

“This must be spectacular in summer,” Jamie said, walking down the winding path and looking at the carefully tended flowerbeds and bushes, the fruit and cherry trees, the immaculate lawn with its central water fountain and the cosy seating area around the fire pit.

“Yes, it was the garden I fell in love with,” Esther replied, letting a hand trail over the top of a meticulously pruned rose bush.

“But how are you going to look after it?” Josh asked. Her was studying her quizzically, bright brown eyes under the woolly hat she had forced on him, clearly thinking of how — despite always wishing she had a garden — she’d invariably killed any plant that had been unfortunate enough to end up in her flat.

She smiled.

“Oh I found a gardener.”

“Seriously?”

“Well it’s a retired neighbour, not a professional. Lost his wife a few years ago so he said he would be happy to help, his own garden doesn’t take up much time. I keep trying to pay him and he keeps refusing.”

“How lovely,” Jamie said, smiling, and Esther was almost taken aback. Of course Josh had told her about how they had found Jamie’s alien family, but Esther hadn’t expected such a change. Not that Jamie wasn’t still aloof, but sie had smiled more in half an hour than Esther remembered in the past… forever.

“Does he have a name?” Josh asked, and Esther’s smile turned into a chuckle: “Greensmith.”

“For real?”

“Yes, ‘for real’. Oh but look at the time! We need to get inside, it’ll be dark soon!”

Sending Josh and Jamie off to put on ‘something more sensible’ (no excuses!) she was left in the living room with Alex and, pretending to look for the matches, struggled with what to say. It was a beautiful and deceptively spacious room with an old-fashioned fireplace, and she still wasn’t quite sure that her furniture had been positioned properly — the cottage still felt more like a holiday property than something that she owned.

But then she would look out of the kitchen window on a morning, taking in the garden, and would wonder how she had ever survived living in London her whole life.

Alex glanced at her briefly before turning to look out the window at the gathering dusk in the narrow lane.

“I know you don’t want me here. Josh insisted, as I’m sure you know. Don’t worry, I won’t stay. My mother will want me home for Christmas, so I have an excuse all ready.”

She wasn’t sure how to take this, but thankfully there was then a knock at the door and she went to open it, a little faster than necessary.

“Gorden! I wasn’t sure if you could make it…”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he replied, carefully wiping his shoes on the mat and hanging his flat cap on the hat stand. His friendly, jovial nature was like a breath of fresh air; there was something reassuring about him, from his mop of grey hair (nicely cut, but in need of a trim), through his neat stripy woolly jumper and plain jeans down to his sensible brown shoes. She had told him that he wasn’t allowed to dress up, and she was pleased that he had done as he had been told — although he was holding out a bottle of wine.

“I know you said not to bring anything,” he said apologetically, “but I’m sure you won’t turn down a bottle of wine?”

“You shouldn’t-” she began, then looked at the label, eyes widening. “You really shouldn’t have!”

She had presumed a £6 bottle from the Co-Op, but the bottle looked more like £60 than £6…

“Listen duck, don’t worry. I know a wine merchant, get a bit of a discount shall we say.” The words were followed by a wink, but before she could protest further Josh and Jamie came down the stairs and introductions took over.

Josh had put on black jeans and a shiny pink shirt and, with his kippah, looked the very picture of a Nice Jewish Boy. (Pretty and witty and gay — her very special darling boy. She had missed him so much she practically felt hollow.) Jamie had opted for a long white jumper over purple leggings, and was still wearing the pretty necklace Esther had noticed earlier on.

“Gorden, my son Joshua. And this is Jamie, his other half. Josh, Jamie — this is Gorden Greensmith, my ‘gardener’.”

Gorden smiled widely and held out his hand: “That is Gorden with an ‘e’, before you start making any Gordon Ramsey jokes. And you two must be the lucky young millionaires…”

Josh faltered for a moment before shaking the proffered hand. “Oh we’re not millionaires anymore. Mum’s probably got more money, although I don’t know how much she paid for this place… We just bought a pile of expensive clothes and then gave the rest to charity.”

Gorden shook his head in wonder and Esther quickly jumped in — this was a discussion she wasn’t ready to have just yet.

“Gorden was curious about Hanukkah, so I said he was welcome to join us even if he might find it underwhelming…”

“You also mentioned fried food,” he added with a grin and everyone laughed.

At this point Alex appeared from the sitting room.

“Hello? I seem to be missing out on introductions…”

Esther tried a smile, but wasn’t sure if she succeeded. Introducing him as the evil tempter who had lured her son away would simply make her sound deranged.

“Um, this is Alexander Saxon, one of Josh’s oldest friends. As I explained, they’ve all been… travelling for the past few months.”

“Hang on,” Gordon’s eyes narrowed. “You related to Harold Saxon? Sorry, but you’ve got a bit of his look about you…”

“Yes,” Alex replied, with a suppressed sigh. “I’m his son.”

Esther cleared her throat.

“We can go over all that later! If we want to get the menorah lit before sundown we need to hurry.”

She ushered everyone into the living room, grateful for the excuse and for something everyday and familiar to focus on.

The menorah had already been positioned in the windowsill and she handed Josh the matches.

“Do you remember the prayer?” she asked — more sharply than necessary, but who knew what his head had been crammed full of?

“I remember the prayer,” he said softly, as if he finally recalled that this was part of who he was; that no stars or wonders could replace history or family or faith.

Then ritual took over. Simple, familiar, comforting; prayers that had been said for millennia, and Esther felt the touch of history, ancestors reaching out from the past to reassure her. Ancestors who time and time again had been forced to uproot their lives and settle elsewhere…

Esther watched the flames and wished for a miracle in her own life.

Dinner was a success, Josh practically throwing himself at the table exclaiming about latkes, and — more importantly — Gorden clearly appreciated the brisket.

Esther felt a touch of triumph; she might not be able to compete with the wonders of the universe in many ways, but she felt sure that no aliens could provide anything like the kind of dinner she could serve up. From what she had gathered the butterfly aliens mostly subsisted on nectar, which seemed a rather paltry diet.

Conversation flowed easily, Gorden being as talkative as Joshua, and they skipped from topic to topic as they tucked into the dinner, food and wine helping everyone to relax.

Jamie was slightly more chatty than normal, especially after Gorden began talking about his daughter (she was something to do with the Environment Agency, but played saxophone with a jazz band in her spare time), but trying to pin Alex down proved a challenge until Gorden discovered that he was fond of cricket. Gorden had played semi-professionally in his youth and was thrilled at having found a common interest, immediately wondering whether Alex might be a regular visitor as the local team could do with a good batsman.

“The term is ‘batter’,” Jamie observed dryly, and Gorden chuckled. “No flies on you, eh? Quite right, they updated the term…”

He started refilling everyone’s wine glasses and, as he held out his glass, Alex answered the previous question.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ve not played cricket since my first year of uni.”

Then, glass full, he took an appreciative sip before carrying on, looking at Gorden with mild curiosity:

“Bit of a change of subject, but I was wondering how long you and Esther have been dating?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Josh was frozen, staring at Esther, and Gorden very carefully set the wine bottle back down, not looking at her. Jamie had turned to Alex as if unable to believe hir ears.

Alex looked around, puzzled. “Why’ve you all suddenly gone all silent?”

He didn’t get any further as Josh cut him off.

“You’re dating? Mum — you’re dating?”

Esther took a deep breath. It wasn’t how she’d planned it, but what was done was done. Time to get everything out into the open. She reached out and took Gorden’s hand.

“Yes Joshua, we’ve been… seeing each other, I guess.”

Shooting Gorden a quick glance, which became a longer, more lingering look, she found herself smiling.

“And it’s… going really well.”

Tearing her eyes from Gorden’s face — bearing that oddly grateful look that she didn’t know how to quantify — she looked up to meet Josh’s eyes, unsettled and aggrieved.

“And… when were you planning on telling me this?”

She shot Alex a quick angry glance.

“Later tonight probably. In a less abrupt manner.”

Alex held up his hands, mildly exasperated.

“Listen, I just presumed everyone knew? It’s… pretty obvious.”

“And you didn’t think I would have mentioned it?” Josh shot back, but Alex merely shrugged.

“Your grandmother died last year, and you didn’t bring it up until three days ago. Maybe your mother finding a boyfriend was another thing you were trying to suppress…”

“Oh — shut up,” Josh muttered, and Esther took another deep breath before stepping in and taking charge of the conversation.

“Well since the cat’s out of the bag, maybe we should do the other half of this?”

She swallowed, the nerves eating away at her once more.

This thing with Gorden was so new, so unexpected, so full of possibility — and quite possibly it might all get ruined before it had even started.

“Gorden… I don’t even know where to start.”

“Let me,” Jamie said, whether out of kindness or pragmatism she couldn’t tell. “I’m half-alien.”

“You’re what now?” Gorden stuttered, and from then unfolded Jamie’s story and their most recent adventures; including Alex’s parentage.

“Wait wait wait, hang on — so Harold Saxon was an alien all along?”

“Indeed,” Esther said, coldly. “He was going to enslave the whole planet apparently.”

Gorden ruminated on this a while, then looked up at Alex.

“Well that’s a shame, I liked him. Thought we’d finally gotten someone who could sort out the country properly and wondered at what the real story might be behind his vanishing act. Although that reminds me… I was going to ask how your mum’s doing? Met her once at a charity do in the early 2000’s and she was lovely — friendly and chatty, thought she’d have made a smashing ‘first lady’ if things had turned out different.”

Alex’s eyes widened and for the first time Esther could ever recall he seemed lost for words.

“Thank you. She’s — she’s good. Yes.” He hesitated, then added: “She spends most of her time on her garden these days.”

“Ah, that’s nice,” Gorden answered, pleased, before leaning back and taking a long sip of his wine.

“Right then, aliens. Interesting.” Glancing at Jamie, he shook his head: “Always figured that the government’s line about how they’re all out to kill us was bollocks, it seemed the next step up from blaming everything on immigrants.”

Then, looking around, he added: “Although I’ve gotta say, I like me a good sci-fi yarn — so tell me, is any of that real? Like the whole 2001 with aliens coming along and helping humanity evolve?”

At this Alex tried to stifle a laugh. “Oh you have no idea. How long have you got?”

“Well young man, I’m retired…”

Alex shook his head. “Let’s not, it’s a depressing list. Josh and Jamie can tell you about the wonders of the universe instead.”

Esther’s hand was shaking as she reached out for her own wine glass. Could this really be happening? Could he really accept this aspect of her life so readily? Could Alex be trying to help in his own peculiar way?

A little while later Alex made his excuses, saying that his mother would be impatient to get him home after not having visited for months. He also shot Jamie an odd look, possibly communicating something without words, as Jamie looked suddenly stricken.

But as he got to his feet he suddenly seemed to think of something and looked around:

“That reminds me — would you like a white Christmas? And if so, which days?”

Off Gorden’s puzzled look he half-smiled. “I take requests. No need to make a decision right now, but if you have a preference just let Josh know and he can send me a message.”

“Sure Seeker,” Josh replied, smiling, and Esther tried to keep from shuddering.

About an hour later Gorden declared that he too needed to say goodbye — specifically mentioning the small angry black cat which would be sitting on his doorstep demanding her dinner. Esther walked him out into the hallway where he grabbed his flat cap and she tried to work out what to say; in the end simply going with the basic truth:

“Thank you.”

A puzzled frown.

“What for?”

“For… not running away. After tonight’s revelations.”

He chuckled.

“Oh I’ve heard some tales in my time… There was one time with a UNIT Lieutenant-general who got very drunk and said more than he should and we all had to sign the Official Secrets Act afterwards — long story, I was hoping to secure a contract — so, it was a bit of a surprise to have dinner with aliens, I can’t deny that, but it was a nice surprise. The kids are alright.”

“Right,” she replied, a little stunned. He’d never said anything… But then neither had she. This easy acceptance she had not been prepared for and was somehow more unsettling than the expected rejection.

“Listen Esther,” he continued, fidgeting with the cap. “None of it really matters. I was going to thank you.”

“Whatever for?” she asked, mirroring his previous confusion. He seemed far too serious considering a simple meal. (A very nice, well-cooked meal, but surely it only warranted an ‘enjoyable dinner, thanks’?)

He looked down, seemingly gathering his thoughts, before raising his eyes and meeting hers.

“Esther. I… don’t know how to put into words what you have done for me just these past few weeks. After I lost Gemma… it was like the whole world turned dark. She told me not to grieve too much or too long; to look for happiness, to keep living — but I felt I was just existing, like walking along in pitch darkness, step by step and wondering why I was bothering. Except for our daughter of course, but she is busy with her own life, as she should be. But meeting you has been like — like lighting a candle. I can suddenly see again. Not far, but your flame is warm and alive. I never thought that was even possible.”

Esther felt something hitch in her chest. They had been ‘dating’ — going out to the pub a few times or (last week) the local restaurant, talking and not-quite flirting, simply enjoying each other’s company and not worrying overly about where they were headed. They were too old to care about gossip or trying to keep up pretences or appearances, but enjoyable companionship was a long way from this confession.

“Now, I’m not a religious man,” he carried on, “but if I were, I would thank whatever powers there are above for that lottery win. Not for the money per se, but for the fact that it brought you here. I’d call it a miracle-”

“Don’t.”

She could feel her expression hardening and realised she would have to explain. If he wanted emotional intimacy, then he needed to know the truth. Despite the price.

“Gorden it’s not- You are the one of only good things about this whole horrible business. The lottery win wasn’t a chance or a miracle, Alex rigged it — simply so his friends would have an excuse to leave with him.”

He frowned, sceptical.

“He can… he can do that? The snow thing wasn’t a joke?”

“No. He can do — almost anything.”

“Hm. I can see how that could be unsettling.”

He pondered this for a long moment, falling silent, and she waited with bated breath. This was the moment when everything might break for good.

“Unsettling yes. But-” he nodded to himself slowly, “-could come in useful. Might ask him to come along to the races…”

She could feel her jaw drop and, noting the look on her face, he shook his head, almost chuckling.

“Ah, Gemma used to have the exact same look on her face whenever I’d make light of something she thought I ought to take seriously. But the way I see it, there are things we can control and things we can’t — and stressing about stuff that’s out of our hands is a waste of time. I appreciate that this lad is your son’s friend, and that his dad is a megalomaniac, but he seems a friendly sort, so I’m gonna focus on that and I know the value of a good tip… Besides he’s not going to be around and you are, which is the important thing. You ever been to the races?”

She shook her head mutely, wondering what was happening. She felt like she was playing Bridge and he’d decided to opt for Go Fish instead.

“Oh, that’s terrible,” he carried on. “Right — presuming you can still stand the sight of me in half a year — I’m taking you to Ascot. We’ll get you a fancy hat and you’ll easily outshine the lot of them.”

Esther shook her head again.

I always fall for the same guy, she thought. Natural entertainers, cheeky, bit of a show-off, drives a BMW…

Except maybe, finally, she had found one worth sticking with.

The wonders and terrors of the universe laid out and all he cared about was her — and the possibility of a good tip for the races. It kept things in perspective in a way she could appreciate.

(And there was the fact that he had stayed with his wife when she fell ill, had nursed her though the whole ordeal. Maybe that was the reason for the perspective.)

“It’s a date,” she said, with emphasis, and then stepped forwards and kissed him. She wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but the kiss was clearly a surprise.

That didn’t make it any less enjoyable.

Here’s to lights in the darkness, she thought.

In the sitting room, Jamie was trying to ignore Josh’s monologue of paranoia about his mother’s new life in general and her new boyfriend in particular. (“Why does he spell his name like that? And how do we know he’s not just after her money? And why did she move so fast? My mother is the least impulsive person alive, it’s just weird-”)

Sie attempted a few hints, because sie knew the signs of a badly disguised freak-out, before finally snapping:

“You know, Gorden seems like a genuinely decent guy, didn’t bat an eye at either your queerness or my alien-ness. I wish my mother had found someone that nice!”

The ‘before she died’ was implied, yet heard loud and clearly. Sie didn’t like using hir dead mother as a cudgel, but Josh sometimes needed a smack upside the head, and right now… right now sie couldn’t care less about Esther and Gorden (good luck to them!), all sie could focus on was the Seeker’s quick telepathic message before leaving. He’d simply said ‘I haven’t forgotten your request’ and sie couldn’t help but wonder what he meant.

After the lottery win sie had asked if he could somehow tell hir mother that in the future sie would have a protector (for lack of a better word) and he’d replied “Maybe”. Sie had been drunk and emotional, recalling hir mother’s worries, and had simply wished there was a way to let her know that things would turn out fine in the end.

Yet sie knew that, although the Seeker could easily enough travel back in time, he wouldn’t be able to just walk up to hir mother and say: “Hi Maggie, I’ll make sure Jamie has a great life” — hir mother would either think him a nutcase and laugh in his face; or it would change the future somehow, which would be a nightmare.

Sie smiled wryly. It was an impossible request, sie knew that much, but it was nice of him to care.

10 years earlier, 20 December 2020, London

“Mum? Mum!”

Maggie wondered where the voice was coming from, the elegant alien butterfly people were singing beautifully, not shouting…

‘Mum!’

Jolting awake, she blinked up at Jamie’s concerned face and tried to orient herself. She was in her armchair, in her sitting room in their flat and it was a few days before Christmas. Every surface was covered in decorations, the small artificial tree in the corner almost sagging under the weight of fake snow, and multi-coloured lights were strung across the window. It was as cosy and comforting as Santa’s Grotto and home.

Trying to focus she did her best to reassure Jamie.

‘Hm? Must have fallen asleep while you were at the shop… Had some lovely dreams.’

Jamie’s worried frown dissolved into a cautious smile.

Sie was still as skinny and angular as a teenage boy, and Maggie cherished any moment when hir natural defensive expression softened. Purple hair hung down into hir eyes, but sie brushed it away, numerous earrings glinting in the light from the sofa lamp and hir blue-green eyes studying hir mother with half-hidden concern.

Maggie had to swallow against sudden emotion; her beautiful, utterly unique child. Her deeply loving, half-alien, telepathic child; almost an adult now…

‘So, want to tell me about your dreams while I put the shopping away?’ Jamie asked as sie got up and made hir way into the kitchen, and Maggie furrowed her brow, grasping at half-remembered wisps of already lost images that were dispersing like smoke. There had been — wait — something about - no…

‘No, they’re gone, sorry. I just remember the — the feeling? It was a — a conviction that everything will be okay. That you will be okay. I don’t know how to describe it. Like… backwards déjà vu?’

‘Backwards déjà vu?’ Jamie came out of the kitchen raising an eyebrow. ‘What on earth are you on about?’

That was the question indeed. Maggie wondered if there was any way of explaining it without sounding like a lunatic.

‘Like… like at some point in the future everything will be okay and then we will remember this dream and it will have come true.’

Jamie turned his over in hir head as sie turned over a packet of mince pies in hir hands.

‘I suppose that makes sense…’

Maggie smiled.

‘Oh and there was definitely something about lights in the darkness.’

At this Jamie laughed, and came across to kiss her nose.

‘Love you mum, I want your dreams!’

‘I’d share if I knew how,’ she replied, wishing she was still able to effortlessly wrap her arms around Jamie and not stuck in a chair, dependent on help 24/7.

Her Jamie deserved so much more than to be lumbered with an invalid — sie deserved love and happiness and to live without discrimination and to find out who sie really was… An endless list of wishes that Maggie suddenly, unaccountably, felt were not just achievable, but bound to come true. As if a guardian angel was watching over them.

The odd conviction was so strong that if she hadn’t been chair-bound she would have gone over to the window and looked out, certain she could have caught a glimpse of them.

Outside

The Seeker looked up at the window, a rectangle of colourful light beside so many others in the darkness of the night. It was cold, but that never bothered him.

It had taken a long time to work out how to fulfil this particular request, and it had been the most complex and intricate work he had ever done: creating a certainty concealed as a dream — strong enough for the conviction to filter through, but leaving all specifics an impenetrable blur.

Standing still, concentrating deeply, he opened all senses to make sure he hadn’t affected any unexpected changes; but the timelines barely flickered, the alteration so minuscule that he’d defy anyone to notice.

If this was a story, it should stop here, he thought. Poised at this moment of hope and peace, the future full of possibilities, like a top spinning. Except time always moved on, the spinning top fell, and life kept going, never stopping.

But lighting a small light in the darkness was something, at least.

His mouth quirked in a bitter smile.

It all came down to labelling — his actions could equally accurately be described as a wildly unethical violation of a mind.

He knew how Esther would have described his actions. Or Allison…

How was he ever going to survive Christmas? Even just this short visit, a few hours on Earth, and he could feel his grip on the pain coming undone. Maybe they could just celebrate somewhere else? Like say, Betelgeuse? Somewhere away from humans and constant, constant reminders.

He really wouldn’t mind a small miracle of his own.

Chapter Text

Earth, Christmas 2030

Christmas brought no miracles, which didn’t surprise the Seeker. However he began to wonder if someone was out to deliberately make his life even more difficult than it already was.

The year before he had insisted on spending Christmas at Torchwood. It had been a nice day, except for an ‘incident’ which had led to a small fire that had taken out most of the decorations and also caused a weevil to escape. The weevil (surprisingly) hadn’t caused much damage except for eating a tiny artificial Christmas tree. But Ianto had simply cleared up in his usual calm and efficient manner, and had then insisted that they put on Santa hats while they ate their Christmas dinner, after which they watched The Great Escape and Jack reminisced about his time in the army.

This year, the Seeker had yet to answer the cheerful Christmas greeting from Jack (which included a somewhat pointed question about how he was doing, as he had been solidly ignoring Jack for months) — and had been told in no uncertain terms by his mother that he’d better come home.

So he dutifully turned up on Christmas morning (taking a short-cut straight from fulfilling Jamie’s request) and (of course) everything looked perfect.

The combination of the Christmas decorations, the beautiful tree and a light dusting of snow outside all created visuals that looked unreal in their cosy, picture-perfect perfection. It should have been comforting, but the Seeker felt like his insides were made of lead. Memories of Christmases with Allison’s family were overwhelming, and he couldn’t help but wonder how she was. Had she found someone new? Was someone else sitting in the seat next to her, being interrogated by her father and fussed over by her mother and-

“So, what have you and your pets been up to?” his father asked and the Seeker was jolted out of his melancholy ruminations.

His mother was serving starters, and he didn’t have Whitwells around the table, he had Saxons (as well as the Doctor; apparently there was no alien invasion this year which made for a nice change. Something-something-small-mercies). Part of him would have been happy to jump back in time 1500 years or so and sit in an actual Saxon hut rather than having to deal with his father — instead he sighed and resigned himself to his fate.

“We went to Wii Sports Resort and then we tracked down Jamie’s family on Arcateen IV. And they’re not pets, they’re my friends.”

He knew the addendum was pointless, but was equally well aware that he needed to keep correcting it or his father would think he had won. Ideally he’d say ‘I’m a mess due to Allison breaking up with me and have been helping my friends as a way to stave off despair’, but one did not reveal weak points to those who could use them against one. That was an early lesson he made sure to always keep in mind.

“And it’s going well?” the Doctor asked, holding out a cracker. The Seeker pulled his end and nodded. Yes, keep talking as if it’s all normal and he hadn’t broken his friends and felt like every moment with them was a balancing act. He won the little tug-of-war and dutifully donned the flimsy paper crown from inside the cracker.

“Yeah, looks likely that they’ll stay a while. They’re both arty types so the place suits them down to the ground.”

His father, however, was not pleased.

“Listen son, the point of relationships with lesser beings isn’t for you to run around helping them. It’s for them to serve your needs.”

Without meaning to the Seeker’s eyes sought out his mother who was pouring wine, seemingly not caring about the conversation, and felt the familiar sickening lurch in his stomach.

The Doctor (quite possibly noticing the way he must have blanched) immediately jumped in.

“Kindness, Master, is not a character flaw!”

His father picked up his wine glass, studying the Doctor disdainfully: “I didn’t design him to be kind, I created an heir who could rule the universe beside me.”

Nothing has changed, the Seeker thought glumly. They will spend the whole day arguing over me.

“Darling, eat your smoked salmon,” his mother urged, at which he feigned a smile and started eating despite his lack of appetite.

The Seeker knew alcohol was a bad coping mechanism, but ended up drinking two bottles of vintage red wine almost without realising. By the time darkness fell he was busy ignoring both his father and his uncle, as well as their endless bickering, instead contemplating all the ways in which his violation of his friends mirrored his father’s violation of his mother and the way he had redirected their lives onto a new path.

Possibly this tangent was due to Gorden’s simple and unexpected enquiry, an act of kindness that had utterly blindsided him and which easily undercut all of his father’s arguments.

“Mum,” he asked as melancholia and wine began colouring everything, “What did you want to do with your life? Before…”

His voice trailed off. He didn’t know much about ‘Before’, had never previously come across anyone who had met her back then. He only knew Cliff Notes — she had gone to a posh boarding school, played netball for Sussex, and read Italian at St Andrews, before working with charities and then in the publishing industry. It was textbook ‘girl from a good family’ and possibly one of the reasons his father had chosen her — where the Doctor sought out the adventurers, his father had been looking for stability; a partner as reassuringly ‘establishment’ as could be found.

She didn’t answer, instead tutting at the wine.

“Is that your third bottle?”

He glared, defensively.

“Listen, I can drink so much more before I get anything more than just mildly intoxicated… And I need something to cope with the two of them arguing.”

Unfortunately she wasn’t having it, her frown deepening.

“It’s a bad habit. And you will need to learn to cope without crutches.”

How did mothers do that, he wondered. The talent for pinpointing the issue was uncanny.

However she then took him by surprise, pouring herself a glass and taking a seat next to him, before tilting her head, studying him with a look far too shrewd:

“Why do you ask?”

He took a breath and hesitated. It was one of those moments where he was intensely aware of how humans saw the world differently — he knew she wouldn’t be able to see all the closed-off timelines: the might-have-been’s, the never-would-be’s, wouldn’t be able to sense the loss of possibility at the narrowing of choices. The same way Josh and Jamie could now only see him, she could only see his father.

Before he managed to find a reply, she answered the question he hadn’t been able to formulate.

“Darling, I know you worry about me, but I wouldn’t swap with anyone in the whole world. If I hadn’t met your father…” Her eyes became lost in the distance. “I would be nothing. Just another tiny little human ant, running around in an ant hill. The world — life — is so much bigger…”

Taking another sip of her wine, she then surprised him again. This time by reciting poetry, speaking slowly and carefully:

“Chiamavi ’l cielo e ’ntorno vi si gira,
mostrandovi le sue bellezze etterne,
e l’occhio vostro pur a terra mira;
onde vi batte chi tutto discerne.”

He had not expected this; 14th Century Italian theological poetry was not something he had known his mother engaged with and, stunned, he let his mind go over the words several times.

The heavens call to you, and circle about you,
displaying to you their eternal splendours,
but your eye gazes only to earth.
Thus, He who sees all things would strike you down.

“I — I didn’t know you liked Dante?” he said in the end, still astonished, and she shrugged.

“There wasn’t much to do once you had left home, so I figured I could do something with my Italian to fill the time… And there are plenty of online courses; it’s a very dense poem.”

He nodded, his thoughts circling back to the stanza.

It was clear what she was saying — humanity in general were preoccupied with their dull reality, but she had looked up to see the heavens. But including the last line added an extra dimension… The Divine Comedy was deeply religious and the stanza in question chided people for being focussed on the material instead of the heavenly, on wealth rather than their souls. But for his mother it could only refer to his father — the failure to appreciate the wider cosmos was a sin, yes, but a sin against him.

He didn’t know how this compared to Josh and Jamie; it might be more psychology than anything else, and he was on the verge of disappearing down a new tangent in his mind when she spoke again. Where the poetry had made her oddly mellow, there was a change now and he could see the steel in her eyes.

“I read my Torchwood file. After your father took over the world, when everything belonged to us. Their opinion on me was: ‘Not especially bright and essentially harmless’.”

He felt his jaw drop; felt the instinctive fury at such a dismissive snub, his hand tightening on the wine glass. (No wonder she hated Jack so much. And how Jack must have regretted that report…)

But he hadn’t missed ‘when everything belonged to us’ — she hadn’t been Empress for long, but she had clearly relished her position.

Meeting his eyes, a ghost of a smile appeared on her face.

“Before I met your father I suppose that was true. No one ever expected anything of me. But he asked me to be by his side when he conquered the universe… And then — we had you.”

She shook her head, impossible things in her eyes. “Alexander, I have never regretted my choice, not ever, you must understand that.”

He looked at her and took care to look properly. Accepted the fact that she lived without regrets.

And also noticed the fact that despite the careful make-up and well-cut hair she was ageing. Felt something clutching at his hearts, a new ache different from all the others he was far too familiar with.

And this led to another insight: She was lonely. Dante would not have been her first choice of companion, he knew that much. And no one understood her, no one knew her life, her reality — and he had been far too wrapped up in his own life, his own hearts-ache to even notice. But he could change that.

Leaning back into the sofa he nodded.

“Tell me about The Divine Comedy.”

Whatever she had expected, this wasn’t it.

“Surely you have read it?”

“I skimmed through it when I was like… 13, and know nothing about all the different layers or metaphors. Talk me through it.”

It turned out to be a good evening; and he realised that he liked hanging out with his mother.

Although just to prove that no good deed went unpunished, his mother bade him goodnight with an admonishment to make sure he was wearing a nice shirt and decent shoes the next day.

“Maybe Star Poets don’t care about what you wear, but the family will.”

He opened his mouth to protest that he hadn’t agreed to go, that he hated Boxing Day, that she could at least have asked, but she merely kissed his cheek and left.

Evil Parents, he thought to himself. His mother’s brand was different to his father’s, but she was a force to be reckoned with.

Fine, he would go. Maybe it’d be less horrible now?

Unfortunately, Boxing Day proved just as hateful as he remembered. The whole scene looked like something out of Downtown Abbey (and on purpose too, he was sure), with pre-dinner ‘genteel’ small talk about investments and holidays and gossip about those absent. The decorations were as tastefully understated as his mother’s, but on a much larger scale due to the size of the setting. He idly wondered if they had ever allowed film crews in or if Aunt Emily found the idea ‘tacky’.

He could feel the ‘Polite’ mask settle, ingrained as it was from childhood, and it felt like a mental straitjacket. For one brief moment he allowed himself to wish for Josh — Josh who would easily charm everyone, possessing weird and possibly magical people-pleasing powers… Even better, he could have brought Josh and Jamie and tell everyone that he was now part of a polyamorous polycule.

Of course he wouldn’t ever inflict this place on them, but it would almost be worth it just for those few minutes of everyone trying to keep their façade in place. It was a very childish impulse, but he felt as churlish as a child.

Sipping his aperitif he wished for several litres more as he felt his soul wither. He hated how well he fitted in, the way class seeped into everything, how his comfortable new tweed jacket could be a twin to his cousin Geoffrey’s — something which Geoffrey commented on, pleased, as he slapped the Seeker’s back.

Geoffrey, he discovered, was now working ‘in the City’ doing ‘something in investments’.

‘They all think I’m one of them’, he thought. ‘My father is an unfortunate drawback, but everyone is quite happy to ‘forget’.’

“You need any financial tips?” Geoffrey asked, “I can get you some inside info should you want it…”

The words were followed by a wink, and the Seeker mutely shook his head.

“I’ve… looked after my own finances since I was eight.”

A beat, as he watched Geoffrey’s brow cloud in confusion, and belatedly remembered that this was not common practice. But well, what was said was said.

“But thank you,” he added, the ‘Polite’ mask requiring An Acknowledgement Of The Nice Offer, and he had to fight against gritting his teeth. It was like a bloody programme running itself in his brain.

A programme he had installed himself, thanks to his mother’s admonishments and expectations, but that he now wanted to violently wrench out of his head forever.

Geoffrey (as the future Lord Cole) of course knew his duties and moved on, and the Seeker did his best to just blend in with the wall, observing the room.

Snippets of conversation would float up from the general rhubarb-rhubarb-rhubarb of the chatter to snag at his ears; grumblings about ‘bloody space menaces’ and ‘hope they shoot them all out of the sky’ and ‘wish they could get rid of all the aliens, if you get my drift’. Noticed a few little lapel pins (‘Earth for Humans’, ‘Alliance Against Aliens’, ‘UNIT Supporter’ and a few others he wasn’t familiar with) and felt a strange emotion rising inside.

Had they always been like this? He searched back through his memory, realising that it had been seven years (for him — five for them) since he’d been here last. 2025, his first year at uni, and he’d only been 18. And not just that, but he had been deeply in love, probably not really thinking about anything other than Allison. Whether it was the fact of being older, or simply of being more observant — or possibly just the fact of the world becoming more hostile to aliens in the past five years, adding them to the poor and the foreign as objects of denigration… the reason didn’t matter, it was still unpleasant. There had always been anti-alien hostility shimmering along in society, but he’d generally ignored it as it wasn’t something he needed to worry about personally, secure in his position of privilege.

He watched in silence, and pondered.

Once seated at the long table, as always with more silverware and centrepieces than necessary, he had barely taken his first bite of the starter (there had been a choice between pears and oysters, and he had chosen pears) when Aunt Emily decided to address him from her end of the table:

“Ah, I see we have another vegan. Alexander, I was wondering what you have been up to for the past few years, but possibly this has answered it.”

The comment was served up with the usual bland, yet pointed, patronisation, but it took the Seeker a few moments to detangle the layers, and even then found himself somewhat at a loss to work out what she was insinuating.

“I’m not vegan, I simply dislike oysters. However I fail to connect this to my pursuits over the past few years — unless you are under the impression that every vegan is automatically enrolled as a member of Extinction Rebellion and I have spent my time being a climate activist, living in a tree and throwing environmentally friendly paint at people I disagree with?”

She smiled that ‘nice’ smile he had detested since he’d been a toddler, and expounded.

“Well, you did so tremendously well at university, I suppose we were all expecting you to change the world in some way. Or get a job at NASA or something like that. Instead you just… vanished. So, I’m simply curious as to what you’ve been doing with yourself?”

“I’ve been researching,” he replied, and — when clearly this wasn’t enough — added: “Solar Engineering.”

(The fact that human Solar Engineering was an entirely different discipline to Time Lord Solar Engineering was neither here nor there.)

“Never heard of it,” she sniffed, insinuating that he’d simply made it up.

“Google is your friend,” he replied curtly, and he could feel how gleeful she was at his rudeness.

“Goodness me Lucy, he’s very blunt isn’t he? Did you ever have him assessed for autism?”

Why his mother still insisted on showing up he couldn’t fathom. Surely at some point the residual guilt would run out? Judging by the look on his mother’s face that moment might be rapidly approaching, so he cut in:

“Autism and honesty often overlap, but they are not the same thing. I read social cues perfectly well, in this instance I just choose to ignore them because you are using them as a cover for your spite.”

“Alexander!” his mother exclaimed, but he merely shook his head. He had done his best to follow the Polite Protocol — ‘spite’ being as polite a way to say ‘being a bitch’ as he could manage — but he could feel the mask coming undone.

“Mum-” he said with great care and precision. The confluences of the day were converging, and it wasn’t so much that he was making a decision, as that he knew the decision had already been made:

“-I can’t do this anymore.”

There was a brief flicker of reflected light across his mother’s face as she tightened her grip on the cutlery, the highly polished silver catching the movement.

“What do you mean?” she asked, composed, but he could see the panic in her eyes. The rest of the table had fallen silent.

“I can’t keep lying. If I can’t be here as myself, then I can’t be here, full stop.”

“What d’you mean?” cousin Geoffrey echoed from across the table, and the Seeker took in all the faces turned towards them, cutlery and wineglasses paused in midair, before finally turning to catch his mother’s eyes again. She swallowed, but then nodded almost imperceptibly. ‘Not especially bright and essentially harmless’ was hanging in the air between them, and he felt sure that she was keen to change the family’s perception.

Then he turned to his aunt and uncle at their respective ends of the table.

“My father is an alien. As am I — and the Doctor. I’ve not been around since I finished uni as I have been off-planet, and only came back for Christmas because mum insisted. I’m not staying.”

With a deep sigh of relief he picked up his wine glass and raised it, smiling: “Merry Christmas.”

Geoffrey Cole, eldest and only son of Lord and Lady Cole — ‘Jeffers’ to his friends — loved Boxing Day.

He was an affable chap and tradition ran through him like a pattern through a stick of rock, to the extent that it had never occurred to him to question his life (or anything much, to be fair). He liked the family seat and all the history, liked his job in the City which was well paid and where he worked with people a lot like himself, liked his girlfriend who was fun and pretty and loved horses and whose nose crinkled in the most adorable way when she laughed. He wished she could have made it to the family dinner, but her family were skiing in Europe over Christmas.

He also liked to quote his grandmother, who used to say that nothing was certain except death and taxes, even if he had never quite understood what it meant. But whatever the setting, it made people laugh and nod in a very affirmative way.

He also liked his cousin Alex — Alex was a bit of an oddball, terribly brainy and all that, but they both liked cricket so he knew Alex was alright. It had been a few years since he had last seen Alex, so he’d been pleased that he had come along this year, and even more pleased when he’d realised that they had matching jackets. It felt reassuring. Everything was right with the world, and with his own place within it.

Now, however, Geoffrey stared at his cousin, jaw dropping.

Was it some sort of weird joke?

Alex had clearly had enough of Geoffrey’s mother’s snide remarks (and he sure as hell couldn’t blame him — his mother’s antipathy for Alex and Aunt Lucy went back years and his mother had a particular line in passive aggressiveness which was impressive), but this was just the weirdest way of going about it.

Should he laugh?

His father solved the conundrum by chuckling, and Geoffrey breathed a sigh of relief. His instinct had been right — it was just a joke.

“Nice one Alexander,” his father said. “Everyone, remember this is a Christmas Dinner, let’s have a bit of jollity. Merry Christmas!”

He raised his glass to match Alex’s (and with a clear look at Geoffrey’s mum from his end of the table), but Alex just shook his head, looking resigned and oddly exhausted rather than someone trying to pull a prank.

“It’s not a joke. I guess you’ll want proof? I could… fetch my spaceship? Or would you just attempt to shoot it out of the sky?”

There was a sharpness to his words that Geoffrey hadn’t heard before and the rest of the table was now beginning to mumble and mutter, unsettled.

At this Geoffrey’s mother had clearly reached her limit and decided to speak up.

“Enough! This is getting ridiculous. Lucy! Tell your son to stop this silly charade so we can all get back to our dinner. The staff will be serving the soup any minute.”

Aunt Lucy carefully looked over the table, cool and composed, and then slowly shook her head.

“Sorry, no. My son is an adult and speaks for himself. And he is not lying. His father, the man I married, the man you hate so much, came from the stars. He showed me wonders and terrors the likes of which you can’t imagine. He is so much more than you will ever know-”

“Well, never say never!” a voice cut in and Aunt Lucy froze, staring over Geoffrey’s shoulder. Alex next to her was similarly struck silent, as was everyone across from Geoffrey.

Curious and disconcerted Geoffrey turned — to see Harold Saxon himself standing by the fireplace! He looked exactly like he did in old footage: immaculately dressed in a black suit and tie, shoes polished to a perfect shine, that friendly but unsettling look on his face.

Geoffrey's mind grappled with the evidence in front of his eyes and refused to accept it. Maybe it was all a dream? That seemed to be the only logical explanation.

Someone exclaimed: “It’s Harold Saxon!”

Someone else (a nicely logical someone) added: “Can’t be. He’s in prison!”

At this Saxon tilted his head, surprised.

“Am I?” He looked around him studying the room with mock-curiosity. “Is this what a prison looks like? If so, it’s very nice.”

He smiled imperiously and, as people were clearly trying to figure out how to respond, Alex spoke up:

"Dad! What are you doing here?”

Saxon shifted his attention, studying his son with a look that Geoffrey couldn’t work out at all.

"Hm? Well, you said you wanted to be honest about who you are. And I think that includes me, am I right?"

Alex’s face turned completely expressionless, and with a jolt Geoffrey realised that he recognised the look from years and years ago — he forgot the details, but they’d had a fight and Alex hadn’t attacked like a normal boy would, he’d just gone cold and furious.

"I am more than your creation, father,” Alex replied, but Geoffrey barely heard him as Saxon’s words registered in earnest.

“Hang on,” he said, as usual voicing his thoughts without considering whether he should. It was a trait his boss loved — ‘unfiltered feedback’ was the term he used — and it had never occurred to Geoffrey to curb this impulse.

“Yes?” Saxon replied, turning his attention to Geoffrey. “Did some sort of semblance of thought cross your little mind?”

Geoffrey ignored the snide tone of voice, too busy to connect his insights. “Look, you just said that you came because Alex said he wanted to be honest. But how did you know that? Are there like… bugs or… cameras or…”

He looked around, half expecting to suddenly notice a badly concealed microphone and camera in the expensive table decoration in front of him.

Turning back to Saxon he realised that Saxon was slowly clapping.

“Well done young man. You must have inherited the family braincell. Take good care of it, you don’t want to overuse it, now do you?”

It took a second, then Geoffrey realised that this was an insult.

“Hey!” he said angrily, feeling heat creep into his cheeks, but Saxon just laughed.

However before he could carry on, Geoffrey’s father spoke. He was still seated at the end of the table — looking as dignified as possible in the circumstances, every inch The Lord of the Manor:

“Mr Saxon! I don’t know how you got here, but I would ask that you refrain from insulting my son under my roof. And as for this insinuation about concealed listening devices…”

Saxon raised an eyebrow.

“Insinuation? I planted them back when Lucy and I got engaged — who wouldn’t want to keep tabs on the in-laws when planning to take over the world?”

Mumbling began once more around the table, but then Geoffrey’s father spoke again. However this time he wasn’t addressing Mr Saxon, but Aunt Lucy.

“Lucy — did you know about this?”

A hush fell over the table, and Geoffrey frowned. ‘Take over the world’? What was this? And how had Saxon gotten there so quickly? And did Alex really have a spaceship? (The last thought made his inner 10 year old deeply excited.)

Aunt Lucy seemed to go paler; but she looked at her husband and then lifted her chin.

“I made my choice a long time ago.”

“That’s my girl,” Saxon practically purred, as exclamations rose all round and Geoffrey could hear his mother’s voice rising, vindicated.

Geoffrey’s frown deepened, trying to figure it all out… But was then distracted Saxon once more. The man — alien? — pulled a cigar out of an inside pocket and then sauntered over to the fireplace (it was huge and excellent for playing hide-and-seek when you were a child), before picking a candle holder off the mantlepiece — one of the silver ones that dated back to the reformation — and lit the cigar from the tall tapered candle.

Taking a puff he looked around, a malevolent glint in his eyes that Geoffrey had only seen in the movies; he’d never thought that people actually looked like that.

“And now the stage is set,” he said with deep satisfaction.

At this Geoffrey’s mother finally found her voice:

“No smoking in the house, you- you- fiend!”

Saxon’s eyes narrowed, and somehow Geoffrey felt a shiver run down his back.

“My dear Lady Cole.”

Slowly he began walking towards Geoffrey’s mother’s end of table, the unhurrying steps somehow deeply unnerving as he kept talking, an unnatural hush falling along the length of the table.

“I feel I must commend you for your bravery. An alien mass-murderer teleports into your home — a man who feels very protective of his family and whose wife and son you have derided for the past twenty-five years — and you dare tell him what to do? Not to mention that half the people around the table are wearing anti-alien pins. It doesn’t really give a good impression…”

He stopped behind her chair and then leaned forward, their heads almost touching, and mimicked a whisper; although it carried through the room.

“Do you know how very easy it is to snap someone’s neck? I do.”

Before Geoffrey could figure out what to do, there was a strange wheezing, groaning noise that he couldn’t place, but that made him worry that something had gone wrong with the pipes (again). The upkeep of old country mansions was expensive and his father had begun to offload certain parts of the upkeep to Geoffrey, and he was painfully aware of how ancient the plumbing was.

The effect on Saxon was unexpected however; he raised his eyes towards the ceiling with clear annoyance and sighed deeply.

“Oh for-”

And then the doors burst open and the Doctor — Alex’s uncle — came storming in. His hair looked like he’d spent the past three hours dragging his hands through it and, with his long coat billowing dramatically behind him, he, too, looked like he had stepped out of a movie.

Geoffrey blinked slowly. Teleportation, definitely… This was without question the weirdest Boxing Day ever, and he found himself grateful that his girlfriend had been unable to make it. This was definitely not a good first introduction to the family.

“Master!” the Doctor said (well, it was more of a shout) and then things became very confused.

The Doctor and Saxon were yelling at each other, after which Saxon was somehow taken away. The last words Geoffrey heard were: “I’m never allowed any fun at all, you absolute Scrooge!”

A few moments later the Doctor returned, still looking frenzied and wide-eyed, which didn’t really make Geoffrey feel any less worried.

“Right everyone. Sorry about that.” He held up his hands. “Won’t happen again, I promise, it was- ”

“An alien invasion! In our house!” Geoffrey’s mother cut in. “Upsetting all the guests, insulting my son-” The Doctor opened his mouth, but Geoffrey’s mother blithely carried on: “-Revealing that he has been spying on us for years and years-” The Doctor tried to cut in again, but nothing could stop his mother when she was on a roll. “And my own sister-in-law admitting to knowing about it all! And-!” She paused for dramatic effect. “-he threatened to kill me!”

The Doctor studied her gravely.

“In that case, be grateful that you are still alive.”

“Grateful? Grateful? Grateful that I was not murdered in my own home? How dare you?”

“Listen-” the Doctor began, clearly intending to calm things down, but Geoffrey knew his mother well enough to know that nothing bar a natural disaster would be able to stop her now.

“That man — that alien — is supposed to be under lock and key, are you going to explain why he was able to run around unchecked? It’s shocking — shocking — that this could happen, and I will be sure to mention it to certain contacts higher up, if you get my drift…”

Her monologue was interrupted by Alex bursting out laughing.

As everyone turned to stare at him, he attempted to curb what to Geoffrey looked like slight hysteria, but was not succeeding very well.

“I’m sorry Aunt Emily. But you don’t know who you are talking to.”

Geoffrey’s mother went stiff as a poker and glared at Alex.

“I beg your pardon?”

At which point Alex got up and, with the same unhurrying steps as his father, walked up to the head of the table and laid his hand on his uncle’s shoulder.

“This is the Doctor. He is a Time Lord from Gallifrey, the oldest and mightiest civilisation in the universe. More than that though, he has saved this planet more times than you can possibly imagine. Good luck getting anyone to listen to your complaints, he even used to work for UNIT.”

Alex seemed to have rendered everyone speechless which was quite the feat.

“You owe him your life. All of you. So come now, think you can manage a little gratitude? Just a smidge?”

The challenge in Alex’s eyes was clear, and Geoffrey’s mother was clearly not having any of it.

“Get out of my house!”

Alex shrugged and then inclined his head.

“With pleasure.”

The Doctor looked pained.

“Listen- This is your family…”

Judging from the look on Alex’s face it didn’t look like this was a winning argument, at which point Aunt Lucy suddenly spoke up:

“Darling, I’ll take it from here if you like.”

She got up, swiftly making her way to the top of the table before speaking quietly with Alex and the Doctor. Geoffrey wished he could hear what they were saying and that he could see what it was that Alex handed to his mother.

Then Alex did a little wave: “Goodbye — if you ever feel like seeing me again, just say. I’m sure the bugs will pick it up. And FYI I’m practically immortal, so if you want to wait a few centuries, that suits me fine.”

The Doctor garbled something that Geoffrey didn’t really take in, as he was still stuck on ‘practically immortal’.

But before he could ask, the Doctor and Alex left — followed shortly by that weird noise that Geoffrey still couldn’t work out, but that apparently wasn’t the plumbing going tits up, so that was one small mercy.

Aunt Lucy took her seat again, turned to Geoffrey’s mum and tilted her head, a devastatingly polite smile on her face.

“Well Emily, let’s hope the staff thought to keep the soup warm, yes?”

Over the following four courses she proceeded to calmly and effectively dismantle the world that Geoffrey thought he knew.

The Seeker slumped in one of the TARDIS chairs, trying to fight the feelings of inadequacy.

(That’d teach him to be impulsive.)

He’d just wanted to come clean, to stop having to lie and feeling so constrained.

Even without his father’s interference it might still have been a disaster, but at least it would have been his own disaster — instead he’d been forced to watch his father maliciously spin everything around himself and had been helpless to either stop or curb him. He was fully aware that any hint of pushback would have resulted in random violence or murder, only to be defended with ‘Look what you made me do!’

He had been pathetically grateful when the Doctor arrived, even though it had underlined his own impotence.

Something which had been further reinforced by his mother deciding to take charge of the whole situation and basically sending him away (‘I’m Mother Wolf, remember. Don’t worry my little cub, I’ll make sure the pack sees you. But do lend me your teleport, then I can get home easily.’) — he could have chosen to stay, to finish what he had started despite the clear hostility, but his every instinct had been to run away. The very idea of trying to argue with all these people, the sheer futility of it…

He should be grateful to his mother, he knew, but he just felt young and incompetent. Felt like when Roda called him ‘Tot’. It was well-meaning, but he still chafed against it. And yet, it wasn’t incorrect. He’d caused a scene and the grown-ups had swooped in to fix the mess.

And now he was stuck in pointless self-pity once more.

He dragged a hand across his face, annoyed.

What was done was done, if the family ever wanted to see him again it was up to them — and to whatever his mother felt like telling them.

For his part he had actual responsibilities, he already had dozens of messages from Josh and Jamie. He was about to ask for the Doctor to pick them up — or to take him to his spaceship — but then the phone rang.

He only caught snippets, but the voice at the other end was very loud and very stressed and the Doctor was barely able to get a word in edgeways, in the end simply saying: “Donna! Breathe! I’m on my way!”

The Seeker automatically reached for his teleport pendant, having zero desire to get involved in whatever disaster was unfolding (with Donna it could be anything from falling out with the Trions next door over a badly parked shuttle to a full-scale alien invasion), but then realised that he had given his mother the teleport. Hearts sinking, he hoped the crisis was a small one.

Forcing himself to think positive, he recalled that Donna’s husband, Lee, was the quiet type, so if he played his cards right he could probably just relax and maybe talk Lee into going fishing. He wouldn’t mind a day by a river or a lake with a fishing rod. He’d had three days in a row with hostile people and he was tired.

There was to be no fishing.

Before he knew what was happening the Seeker found himself the designated childminder of two terrified children, as the panicked phone call had been to ask for the Doctor’s help as Lee had been abducted by the ‘alien bats’ Donna had been complaining about for the past several years, and the Doctor and Donna had run off in the TARDIS to rescue Lee from the bats.

(Donna had been especially vocal about how ‘If the Doctor had come to pick them up when originally planned, all this would have been avoided and her husband would be safe!’, which made the Doctor gesticulate wildly and explain about the Master’s shenanigans, and they were still yelling at each other as they vanished into the TARDIS and took off.)

‘This is why weapons are bad’ the Seeker thought to himself, as his frayed nerves made him want to default to ‘Go Kill Them All’.

Although they were in the 51st Century, so if somehow everything went wrong (or more wrong than already, rather) he could just steal a spaceship and leave, getting the kids to safety…

However it was difficult creating a contingency plan since the aforementioned kids didn’t allow him peace to think, instead bombarding him with questions he couldn’t answer. What did one do with small(ish) children? He reckoned they were probably around 5 and 7, and had inherited their mother’s volume and flair for drama, and — not surprisingly, since both their parents had gone awol and they had been left with a near-stranger — were small bundles of panic and worry.

Eventually he took a deep breath, focussed very carefully, and put them to sleep.

A few hours later the Doctor and Donna returned, having not just rescued Lee in a daring raid, but also uncovered an unfolding invasion. (So this was where the annual Christmas invasion had gone, the Seeker thought to himself with a deep internal sigh.) Subsequently he found himself assigned to defusing a doomsday device, while the Doctor rappelled down into a cave holding the bats’ ancestral artefacts and Donna played Local Collaborator With Eager Questions gaining entrance to the bats’ central operation. Lee (happily in charge of the children, who were clinging to him like limpets) had become the emergency back-up entrusted with a hastily cobbled-together high-frequency weapon which could take out all the bats in case everything else failed.

The day was saved (of course), and everyone returned exultant and elated and keen to relate everything that had happened and why Lee had been kidnapped in the first place and praising the Seeker for his part.

The Seeker smiled stiffly, desperate to avoid hugs and further questions and the general bonhomie, and asked to simply be returned to his friends; but the Doctor misheard ‘Cotswolds’ as ‘Cornwall’ and when trying to fix this the TARDIS decided to land in Cardiff.

“Oh,” The Doctor said, smacking himself on the forehead. “Jack! He was asking after you. Why don’t you drop in on Jack now we’re here in Cardiff while I sort out Donna…”

The plea was unmistakable as the children were (literally) climbing the rafters, Donna was on the phone to her mother and Lee (a steady, quiet individual, not accustomed to adventures beyond daily life with Donna) was clearly trying to process everything that had happened. So, before the Seeker could point out that he had a spaceship and all he needed was to be returned to it, the TARDIS dematerialised.

The Seeker looked at the water fountain and sighed. He really, really didn’t want to talk to Jack.

Chapter Text

2 January 2031
Cardiff, Earth

“Well kid, finally come to see me?”

Jack stepped off the invisible lift and walked across to the youngster. He’d almost not recognised him (the tweed jacket was new, and he looked dressed for a formal occasion — white shirt, black trousers and black shoes) but more than the outfit there was something about the way the boy carried himself, something Jack couldn’t put his finger on. A lack of… something indefinable.

He hadn’t seen the boy in months and had to admit that he was a bit… disconcerted that when trying to deal with Allison breaking up with him (for good), the Seeker had gone to everyone else rather than Jack. Last time he’d been a shoulder to cry on, but this time he hadn’t had so much as a single message — if it hadn’t been for Roda, he wouldn’t even have known that anything had happened.

Something was definitely off, but not in a way he could figure out.

It was the second of January; the wind was biting, the sky steel-grey and the clouds hung low over the bay. A thoroughly dark and miserable day in every way, and Jack wondered what had brought the young Time Lord here. It looked almost like the Doctor had left him behind by accident — it certainly hadn’t been planned ahead of time or he’d have at the very least put the kettle on.

The Seeker turned and half-smiled; but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Sorry about the radio silence, but…” He waved a hand in a half-gesture, then let it fall again. “It’s complicated.”

Jack began buttoning his coat to keep out the cold, studying the boy as he replied:

“So I gather. Roda… didn’t say much, but hinted at stuff.”

Daylight was already waning, but that on its own didn’t explain why the kid looked so drained.

“I guess she told you about Allison?” the Seeker asked.

“She did. But my spider-sense is tingling…”

He attempted a smile, but all he got in return was a deep sigh, far too world-weary for someone barely more than a kid. Although he’d not been a ‘kid’ since he was eight, Jack knew this. Still, there was something else to it — something that seemed more like resignation than hearts-break.

“Right. Let’s talk. At least it’s not raining.”

Gathering that going down to Torchwood wasn’t an option, Jack picked a bench and waited for the boy to start talking.

The Seeker stayed silent for a long while, and Jack began to wonder what exactly he was building up to.

Despite only wearing a shirt (top button undone) under the tweed jacket , he didn’t seem to mind the low temperature or the wind, although he certainly looked pale and cold. Yet somehow Jack felt sure that he would look the same even next to a roaring fire.

“Right, here goes,” he finally began. “I’ll explain in detail, but the basic gist is this — you know how scared Allison was when she first broke up with me? How she realised how easily I could mess with her mind? How I asked you to stop me if I ever tried?”

Jack nodded, silently.

“I did it to Josh and Jamie, without ever meaning to.”

Jack almost gasped, shocked, but the boy kept talking; slowly and carefully laying out the events as Jack began to put together everything unsaid and felt a horrible lurch in his stomach.

He didn’t need to give voice to it as the Seeker eventually tilted his head, sadness and resignation in his brown eyes.

“In short, the Doctor was right. Your birthday present was a dangerous and ill-considered idea. And Josh and Jamie paid the price.”

“Seeker-” Jack tried, his voice sounding strange to his own ears, but the Seeker merely shrugged.

“What’s done is done. And it wasn’t your fault-”

“It was my gift! And I sent them to you…”

He had been the one gifting the boy matches and then handing him paper dolls. The knowledge sank into him, sickening and unavoidable, and he swallowed bitterly. No wonder the boy hadn’t been in touch.

All he had thought at the time was that sex was fun, and that the kid might appreciate learning about pleasure from experts in the field — getting a taste of all the possibilities that existed out there in the wide universe. The Doctor’s reaction had seemed to be out of all proportion to the crime, and he had figured that the Doctor was just a bit of a prude, disapproving of ‘brothels’, but knowing what it had caused…

Part of him wanted to shout: “You kept this from me for years!” and yet he couldn’t get the words out. Maybe because another part wished that he still didn’t know.

The Seeker shook his head.

“Don’t do the guilt trip thing. Trust me, I’ve trodden that road too much myself. And it was my choice to ask for everything on the menu, which is probably what caused the damage. After all I did almost die, so it’s not terribly surprising that the damage was deeper and more permanent than we knew at the time. Besides which… if you hadn’t given me that birthday present I would never have been sent to Cambridge and never met Allison and-”

He spread his hands.

“It’s all connected. And running away was no good, all it did was make Josh and Jamie unhappy. So now I simply have to live with my sins. Quite literally.”

A shadow of a smile as he clasped his hands together again.

“The sins are beautiful and happy, so it’s just on me to manage myself.”

“No!”

The refutation was so immediate that it took a moment for Jack to gather his thoughts enough to formulate an explanation. He just knew that the kid shouldn’t be on his own.

“No?” the boy asked. And damn, he might be mid-twenties or whatever, but he still looked like a teenager…

“No,” Jack repeated, grasping hold of the boy’s shoulder. “No. Look, you’re a kid, I’m an adult — and don’t argue with me, Roda keeps saying how you’re a ‘tot’ and she doesn’t consider anyone under 100 to be capable of much — so this mess is on me. Clearly the Doctor has done all he can, but I am here for you. What do you need?”

The Seeker oddly looked like he might burst into tears, but instead just shook his head.

“I don’t know. I had the worst Christmas ever over the past few days — Josh’s mum, then my parents, then mum’s family, then a nightmare alien invasion thing with the Doctor and Donna… But Josh and Jamie are desperate to leave Earth, I have so many messages that the phone has stopped counting them. Clearly they are finding Earth as claustrophobic as I am. On top of which Esther’s new boyfriend wants to take them to a classic car show which is clearly a fate too terrible for words and I have to save them.”

Jack turned it all over in his head and made a decision.

“I’ll go get Josh and Jamie. Don’t worry — I’ll figure something out, I’m good at that. You go home and have a break.”

The Seeker frowned, the wind ruffling his blond hair and making him look like a confused young child.

“But I already went home for Christmas-”

“Home to your planet. Remember? The planet you built like the freaky genius you are? How long have you been away?”

He blinked, slowly. “Um. Since I picked up Allison’s letter. That was… late September. The 20th I think.”

Jack shook his head fondly, but with a fair degree of exasperation.

“And now we’re in January. That’s more than 3 months. Go home. Don’t worry about your friends — or anything else for that matter.”

“Jack…”

Without a word Jack pulled him into a hug and didn’t let go for the longest time.

He tried to recall what Roda had said back in September — not much, but she had mentioned going to see the Doctor, and he could understand why now. Could make an educated guess as to what she had felt and the anger she had thrown the Doctor’s way. He knew her well enough to recognise how the entire situation would have made her want to run for the vortex, drawing her gun, and the fact that she had clearly done her best to help the tot spoke volumes about how much she valued the youngster (despite the father and how deeply unsettled she would have been by the whole situation).

As for the Doctor, then he appeared to have done everything he could — but Jack suspected that the guilt he carried might have been more of a hindrance than a help. Besides which he was probably too worried about the boy’s parentage to be able to offer support with no strings. Yes, the Doctor had to be ‘In Loco Parentis’, and Jack had been on the receiving end of the Doctor’s ‘parenting’ enough times to know what that felt like.

But that didn’t change the fact that the kid was clearly traumatised, carrying far too much on his young shoulders, and having somehow internalised the lesson that if you broke it, you had to pay with no hope of reprieve.

He had asked for help of course, but only for fixing things — not for himself.

But Jack wasn’t a ‘parent’ and he had no reservations. His love was as unconditional as the love the kid had given him, and he’d make sure the Seeker knew Jack was always in his corner. Especially now, since he’d unwittingly help set the whole mess in motion.

Although (as always) the Seeker surprised him.

He teleported the boy up to his spaceship and the black-on-black of the interior made him look even paler than before, yet he studied Jack with the strangest little smile. A tiny mote of light in the darkness.

“Just wanted to say that… having almost died from alcohol poisoning — and from falling out of a window, but that’s a story for another day — I can now definitively say that almost dying from sex is a much superior option. I… genuinely can’t regret your present, no matter how I try, and quite frankly I am sort of tempted to go back if I ever feel in need of scratching that particular itch. Paying for sex seems a very sensible option now, compared to the mess I’ve made of my life.”

Jack’s jaw dropped and the Seeker simply hugged him again.

‘I love you Jack. For always.’

Seeker’s Planet

He stayed under the water for as long as he could. How did humans cope without a respiratory bypass system?

He was weightless, cushioned, and everything was peaceful.

Eventually he had to breathe and broke through the surface feeling almost new. A spectacular sunset was painting the sky in hues of brightest amber to darkest red, the grass looked aflame, and the surface of the lake was like molten gold.

But what made him smile wasn’t the beauty of his planet — it was the silence. Not only the fact that the only sound was a soft whisper of a breeze through the leaves, but also the mental silence.

The terrible loneliness that had attacked him like a vicious thing when he’d first read the letter now felt like relief; like clean air and clear horizons after months of crowds.

Eventually he leisurely swam to the shore and sat down under a tree, letting the gentle breeze dry the water off as he lost himself in thought while slowly smoking his way through the best part of a packet of cigarettes.

This was the lake where he had brought Allison, now almost four and a half years ago… The place where he had opened up his hearts; laid out his hopes and dreams; revealed the whole of the truth of himself.

He had often come back here, indulging in a fantasy that he could by now play out to perfection.

A fantasy where he travelled back to the day before he had told Allison the truth. Before things had become screwed up, before he’d broken Josh and Jamie…

A simple word of warning to his younger self and a whole different timeline would unfold: A world where Allison would look at him with love not fear; a world where instead of a chasm of loss and pain that felt deeper than the Mariana Trench there would be happiness; a world where he could look at his friends without futile desire and choking guilt; a world where his hearts weren’t broken beyond repair.

One simple action and she could be kissing him…

For one endless moment he allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy one final time — breathless joy that felt as sharp as glass: the memory of her touch, the warmth of her breath, her laughter, her love — but then reality intruded.

The chimera fractured, splintering into endless alternate timelines — because she had left him, and now (after the letter) there was no guarantee that any alternative timeline would change this fact. The only way to guarantee her devotion was to violate her the way he had Josh and Jamie.

Exhaling, shaken up by the vivid daydream, he took a step back mentally.

Daydreams were pointless. Sure in theory he could go back and change time, but it was so much more complicated… It wasn’t just the fact that the Doctor would put a stop to any changes, but there were other considerations too.

Studying his life, the complexities were already manifold: the way lives and events intersected, changing the time lines — he was only mid-twenties, and already the web was convoluted and tangled. Any change would affect far more people than just himself and Allison. Could he take Jamie’s new-found family away from hir? Could he send Josh back to the architecture firm where he had been so unhappy?

And as for Allison…

He sat still for a long moment, then made up his mind and dug out his mobile from his clothes pile, cigarette held between his lips. Clearly he had to do the ‘moving on’ in stages, but this seemed a good time to set her current life down in his mind.

He’d deleted anything that could even tangentially flag up her life, but his fingers found her online presence almost of their own accord. And then immediately regretted it.

She was seeing someone. For a moment he thought the pain would make him pass out, but taking a deep breath (hand shaking, ash flaking into his lap) he forced logic to take control.

The fact was that he hadn’t eaten anything since the Boxing Day starter — there hadn’t been any time to eat when fighting the ‘alien bats’ — so he was simply famished and the shock had physical repercussions. Smoking had helped in taking the edge off the hunger pangs, but nothing more.

Taking a deep drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke burn through him and distracting him from the emotional pain, he reflected how deeply unhelpful growing bodies were. He presumed he’d be more resilient once he reached maturity, something which was at least 75 years away…

He set food as the next point on the agenda, but first he needed to see who this ‘Andrew Starbeck’ was. No point in doing anything by halves.

The search was swift and disheartening. Andrew was a secondary school teacher. He had no special talents, no additional higher studies, no feats except having run a few marathons…

The Seeker swallowed, the disappointment harsh and bitter. He had offered Allison the universe, would have laid galaxies at her feet, and she had chosen mediocrity. He had thought that maybe she would have found a fellow scientist (at the very least), or someone extraordinary in another field, but no, just what looked like Mr Average… He knew the Doctor could talk about the wondrousness of ordinary humans until the cows came home, but his uncle wasn’t exactly settling down in a two-up two-down terrace himself.

But fine. She had chosen. So be it. Another chapter closed.

(My swan, my dearest, my dream / My sun at dawn…)

Ruthlessly quelling the song he got to his feet and pulled his clothes on again. They needed a proper wash anyway (as did he himself), but first he needed to eat.

Steering the spaceship towards his house he noticed how unfinished everything still was. Josh had offered to design the tower, but following that disastrous (wonderful) night on their honeymoon that had never happened… The courtyard needed to be cobbled, the garden had been neglected and — looking out further over the planet itself — he barely knew the place he had created. Nothing had been named, the maps blank and unexplored. And more than that it was empty; he had been meaning to start creating animals but had put everything on hold after Allison… Solar Engineering had been years away on his curriculum but he had switched the order up as having Roda around helped to stop him brooding.

Sighing, he landed in the courtyard with unconscious precision. Food first! Concentrate. Why was his head in such a muddle still? Hopefully being back would help.

The one modification he had made during the past few years was a smaller entrance, an ‘Everyday Door’. It was an alteration that had come about due to Roda. The first time she had visited he had decided to give her a guided tour rather than going straight to the workshops; however after opening the great double doors — which opened up into the giant hallway with the sweeping staircases, a pièce de résistance he was rather pleased with — she had shaken her head and snorted:

“You do know that doors are for going through, not for displaying fancy architecture?”

“Depends on the door,” he’d shot back; even if privately he’d come to the conclusion that something smaller would be practical.

And so he stepped through the small entrance, hanging up his tweed jacket on the coat stand, kicking off his ‘good shoes’ and then just taking a moment to soak in the fact that he was home.

Jack was clearly a genius, or maybe he himself had just become stupider. He sighed deeply, knowing the answer already — Jack was the one person he could depend on, no matter what. Maybe he should have told him about Josh and Jamie sooner… But then on the other hand he’d needed to process it all himself first.

Walking through his house was comforting, the spaces he had created for himself clear and white and uncomplicated. Bob the Roomba buzzed up to him, asking how he had been, and he patted the dome with a smile, even as his thoughts refused to stay on point.

Having warmed a meal he settled down in the garden under his plum tree. The tree was now twice as tall as him and a prolific bearer of fruit; he stroked the trunk absentmindedly, the warmth of the sunshine still lingering in the bark, and it felt solid and reassuring in a way most things in his life didn’t… Except for Jack. He’d never understand why the universe had given him Jack — Jack who had responded to the mess he had made of his life with ‘This is my problem now’ — but he was grateful.

The evening shadows were lengthening and there was a profound cool stillness in the garden, which was as refreshing as his swim had been earlier on. As he ate, he turned his thoughts onto himself, reflecting on where he found himself and where he needed to go next, and where this fitted in the overall picture.

He was more than his father’s creation — but equally he was unable to be less, or other, than he was. And then there was the Doctor, who practically had ‘Noblesse Oblige’ stamped across his forehead, something which more often than not equated to running around playing god by default.

His brow knitted into a frown. Godhood was not something he wanted — neither his father’s way, nor the Doctor’s. He had written a whole PhD on the subject after all, except it hadn’t touched on the one thing most specific to himself — where did someone with his talents fit?

At this point Roda’s words came back to him.

“But if you want engineering, then think of it like… calibration. No one — not even genius Time Tots who take all of the university courses at once — builds a machine that works right the first time. You have to test it, and tinker, and take risks, and burn yourself.”

Both his father and the Doctor were keen to tell him who he should become, but he preferred Roda’s guidance — she tried to look at him as his own person, apart from his father. (Possibly this was the only way she was able to cope with him at all, but — whatever the reason — it was appreciated.)

Looking up at the now-dark sky, endless stars twinkling down at him like in some Disney movie, he set about mentally updating and rearranging his 100 Year Plan. It had been interrupted by university and then again by Allison, the emotional impact throwing everything out of whack. And now there were Josh and Jamie to consider — although they could run parallel, surely. The Plan was mostly to do with his planet and his education, both things that needed to be in place before he undertook any other tasks. Maybe it was time to go back to where it had been originally.

After a few hours his phone buzzed, and he glanced at it before chuckling with only a tint of despair. It was a message from Josh.

‘Jack took us back and Jamie’s family have given us an island!!!’

It had been… seven hours altogether since he’d landed.

He sent a quick response — so they knew he was there — and then turned his phone off. Jack was looking after them. They were fine. He could feel the burden he had been carrying for the past 4 years easing, if just a little.

Thinking back to his mother and trying to compare her to Josh and Jamie, he thought that maybe the thing to focus on wasn’t the violation itself — since there was nothing to do about that — but to concentrate on the positives. Like how his mother was happy to have escaped mediocrity; how Josh and Jamie were happy exploring the wider universe and the possibilities offered. And if Jamie’s family had given the two of them an island, then they might stay on Arcateen V, at least for the foreseeable future…

Yes, good. He could be supportive, but they wouldn’t need him 24/7. He just needed to figure out a proper framework. And now he had a breather he might be able to do so, letting logic rule rather than loss or guilt.

He could do this. He could. He could learn to simply live with the pain and the guilt and the knowledge that Allison was seeing someone else-

Fuck.

Now he wanted to get drunk again. Clearly he was a work in progress and shouldn’t rush things. But at least he felt he was once more moving in the right direction, rather than standing still or backsliding.

Chapter Text

9 January 2031
Arcateen V

The curve of planet below gradually rose towards him as he steered his space ship down and down and down; resolving itself into clouds, then mountains and valleys, and finally the fantastical city of the Star Poets.

Ignoring the architectural wonders below, the Seeker concentrated on the coordinates Jack had sent and made his way towards a small islet at the very edge of the city.

He forced his hands to be steady on the controls, but it would seem that he could only control one part of his body at any one time — he could feel his hearts beating, the way his mouth had gone dry, how his insides were fluttering with nerves.

Three months ago he had fallen into his friends’ lives with no plan, just a desperate need for solace (his very own Nepenthe¹), and had simply muddled through since. But thanks to the break Jack had afforded him, he had found space to think things through and had formulated A Plan.

The question was — would it work? His own nervousness was proof positive that he was as susceptible as they; he had been caught between missing them fiercely and simultaneously revelling in solitude and work, and knew that his life from on would depend on keeping this very balance at all times. Like hovering in the orbit of an event horizon, but with will-power instead of physics.

His face hardened. This was exactly why he needed the new framework. They were messy and emotional, and structure would help. It had to.

Having landed, he had barely stepped off the ramp before he was enveloped in hugs, although the physical hugs were difficult to separate from the barrage of mental relief:

‘We-missed-you-we-missed-you-we-missed-you-we-missed-you, it’s been weeks, never do that again, we were having flashbacks, where have you been, what-’

He took a moment to simply fall into the embrace and the comfort of their shared mental space, even as the experience was threatening to overwhelm him. Touch and smell and the softness of Josh’s lips against his cheek and the velveteen quality of Jamie’s mind and oh god, beautiful bodies pressed against his, this was worse (better) than he remembered, would it be so bad if he indulged just a little, they would be so happy…

But at the back of his mind a little countdown added up the seconds and at ‘10’ a quiet ‘ping’ sounded out in his head — and he opened his eyes and detangled himself.

He had other safeguards, and in all honesty this simple little mechanism was possibly too simple, but he figured that it was at least worth trying. And since he had a big clever brain that could run programmes even when he didn’t want it to, using that power for something useful seemed a good way forward.

Jack, unobtrusively hanging around in the background, was shooting him a look with a raised eyebrow, and he felt suddenly self-conscious. It was one thing to confess to what he had done, another to have Jack witness it.

“OK, stop,” he said as he pulled away and held up a hand. “I missed you too, but I had the Christmas from hell and needed… breathing space. I’m sorry about the break, but I’m here now.”

Taking another step back he took a moment to just look at them, to separate the mental space from the physical.

Josh was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt — an ensemble so surprisingly ordinary that the Seeker did a double take. Of course the T-shirt looked too tight for comfort and Josh had accessorised with a pearl necklace and a large amount of jangly bracelets, but overall it was a very ‘basic’ look. (The Seeker had an idea that ‘basic’ was some sort of derogatory term, but had never bothered to find out why.)

Jamie, however, had clearly spent the their break on Earth working on hir appearance. Hir hair, now almost touching hir shoulders, was dyed lilac, and sie was wearing some sort of floaty diaphanous garment that fluttered gently in the breeze. The Seeker presumed that it was a (not unsuccessful) attempt at alluding to Star Poet wings. Personally it reminded him of the sort of outfit worn by female stars in 1970s episodes of Columbo, but he knew Jamie well enough to realise that this observation would not be welcome.

“So,” he said, more or less back in control, “let’s have a look at your new place.”

This earned him a chuckle from Jack, since the island was flat and empty, comprising nothing except pale purple grass and a few small blue trees, and it was surrounded by other similarly empty islands. It was a blank canvas for them to do with as they pleased, and the Seeker could see how enticing the prospect was. It also demonstrated very plainly that the family were keen to keep Jamie around by handing on a part of hir ‘heritage’, as they put it, and sie was clearly still emotional.

“There was a lot of ugly-crying,” sie said, looking around and letting a hand brush across the top of a small blue shrub-like tree. “I never even had a garden, and now look…” Hir hand swept across the view — the myriad islands in the endless streams, the beautiful city-scape in the near distance.

He didn’t need to ask any further questions, Jamie’s mind was so full he could easily sense the elation and the turmoil. (They want me, I am wanted, I am welcomed, I can stay-)

The look on hir face was not one he had ever seen before. Somewhere between joy and peace, a look that should have been hirs by birthright, but that a life-time of bigotry and concealment had stolen.

“Sie’s lying — sie’s never been ugly, ever,” Josh cut in and they all laughed, even as Jamie protested that there was a reason there were no photos from when sie was a teenager and ‘spot central’.

Yes, the Seeker thought. This is good. This is a good new beginning, I can build on this.

Jack excused himself (Torchwood duties calling) and disappeared before the Seeker could say anything — which might have been for the best. He’d invite Jack round the way he used to, and they could get back to how things were before. Of all his problems, Jack was the least.

And for now he needed to focus on his friends.

“I guess you’ll want a house?”

He’d thought this an innocent question, a way to start a discussion about their future (did they want to live on the island, or elsewhere) — but it started an argument that he had not foreseen and did not know how to deal with.

They both wanted to live on the island, no problems there, the issue was the house itself…

Josh wanted to create something architecturally brilliant and eye-catching and launched into an impassioned speech with many gestures — but Jamie shook hir head, suddenly obstinate, hir eyes clouding over and turning the colour of teal.

“I don’t want to live in a show home or fancy architectural box. I want a home.”

“You didn’t mind the tree,” Josh countered, and Jamie rolled hir eyes.

“That was a… Star Poet thing. I wouldn’t want to live in a tree.”

Then, doing hir best Long-Suffering Spouse look, sie added:

“I support you 100% in whatever you want to create. But if we can have our own place, properly ours, I want cosy, not fancy.”

“Like… what?” Josh shot back.

The Seeker felt like he was at a tennis match, watching the ball being lobbied back and forth. He’d never understood the point of tennis and pulled his comm unit out of his pocket and turned it on.

At Josh’s challenge Jamie hesitated momentarily, swallowing, then brushed hir purple fringe out of hir eyes, voice hurried and oddly fey.

“I would — IwouldloveaMoominhouse.”

Josh blinked slowly. “You what?”

“A — a Moomin house? You know, round and blue and with a red pointy roof? But not as huge as the one they built in that theme park in Finland, just a few bedrooms.”

Josh shook his head, still incredulous.

“I know what a Moomin house looks like. But we could do anything, why go with something so — twee?”

“Twee?” Jamie now looked genuinely offended.

“Look, it’s literally a children’s book house. I could make something amazing!”

Jamie groaned.

“And we’re back to the beginning. I don’t want to live in a statement to modernism or whatever you decide you want.”

Josh’s jaw set, and then he abruptly turned to the Seeker:

“What do you think?”

The Seeker looked at them blankly, having done his best to tune out the conversation and instead checking for new messages.

“I don’t have an opinion. It’s your house, not mine.”

Unfortunately this simple statement made both of them turn on him.

“What do you mean?” Josh asked, panic in his eyes. “Are you… leaving? Again?”

The Seeker looked from one to the other and did a quick internal deliberation to work out how to respond. This was not the way he had planned to discuss the issues, but no time like the present he supposed.

“I’m not leaving leaving,” he said eventually. “But I’m not going to be living with you.”

“Why not?” Jamie this time, voice low but with an edge of steel. Unlike Josh, Jamie got quieter when sie was upset, and the Seeker could feel the deep apprehension they both radiated as clearly as if it were his own. He sighed.

“This past week was the first time in more than three months that I slept in my own bed… I need — I need to get back to my life.”

He took a careful breath and then swiftly carried on before they could respond:

“Look you both want to study, that’s what you said, yes? Jamie can learn to sing and compose how sie always wanted and Josh can do architecture, and I want… none of that. Or anything else, the art or the… sculpting or flower arranging or whatever else they do here. If you want to get all speciest about it, then I come from a race that used computers to create paintings, it’s not in my nature. There’s a reason I went to Arcateen IV and not Arcateen V when I first came here. So — I’ll go do my own thing, okay? I’ll just… build you into my routine. Besides which — living with you? Surely you can see why that would be a terrible idea?”

A beat, then he tried smiling, as if a smile could take the edge off his words.

“I’ll be like Snufkin, going off wandering but always coming back.”

Josh didn’t smile back, instead placing a hand on his hip, voice almost a sneer.

“I thought you didn’t have an opinion on the house?”

The Seeker shrugged, determined not to let Josh’s theatrics influence him. “I like the Moomin house. It’s… cute.”

At this Josh simply stared at him, dumbfounded. “You have never in your life used the word ‘cute’. Ever. Certainly not as a compliment.”

The Seeker sighed deeply. The push-pull of comfort and responsibility was weighing on him once more; the break had been nice but clearly nothing more.

“Look, it’s hugely distinctive and it’ll stand out, which is what you want, yes? And as Jamie says, it’s cosy. I’m sure you have five hundred different ideas already, but that’s the problem — it’ll take you forever to choose and then refine and you haven’t even begun learning about Star Poet architecture or building methods or materials or… anything. By the time you have actually decided what you want, and how, months will have gone by. Whereas you could draw the plans for a Moomin House in half an hour and it can probably be built in like… a week. And then you’ll have your own place and be settled.”

“Meaning that you can leave again,” Josh shot back, the bitterness in his voice as pronounced as the closed, unhappy look on Jamie’s face.

The Seeker wanted to bang their heads together. (Knowing that he could force his will on them as easily as snapping his fingers — and that they would welcome it — did not improve his mood any.) He gritted his teeth and the annoyance lent his response some heat:

“I won’t abandon you! But I can’t stay here indefinitely and play house.”

(I dreamed of setting up a home with Allison, I am not doing it with you.)

“Play house?” Jamie asked, affronted and hurt, but the Seeker held hir eyes and didn’t back down. He had to take responsibility for the mess and set out the boundaries. They weren’t equal, no matter how much they tried to pretend, and he needed to step up. Much as he hated it, he knew his father had been right — he couldn’t spend his life running around after his friends.

“Yes. That’s what it would be. I have my own planet and my own house and it’s pointless pretending otherwise. You are married to each other, not to me. Besides which, I am off to Arcateen VI tomorrow, so I was hoping the house question would be settled by then.”

“What’s on Arcateen VI?” Josh asked, suspiciously.

“Farms, mostly. Although in this case there’s an underwater volcano that Maruu thought I’d be interested in.” He waved the comm unit under their noses. “Listen, you’ll be fine. You just have to trust that I won’t abandon you. Otherwise this whole thing is pointless. Do you trust me?”

They looked at each other, and then (grumpily) acquiesced.

The Seeker allowed himself to exhale, feeling like the first hurdle was cleared. He didn’t know how many more there would be, but at least this one was done, so he counted it as a win.

(It had been 47 days since he had last violated his friends.)

17 February 2031

As the Seeker had expected, the hurdles just kept coming. Some were easily cleared; others… not so much.

A Moomin house (small but incredibly distinctive) was built inside a glass bubble and Josh and Jamie could start their new lives in earnest. Josh hadn’t been keen on the glass sphere, until it was explained that the spheres (which were dotted all around) were sound-and-telepathy proof — a must in a place where the majority of the population sang for a living, and where a discordant thought could cause upset if not controlled.

However, no sooner had they moved in than the Seeker became inundated with queries.

The queries fell into two different categories.

The first category was to do with practical every day issues. Partly what Jamie referred to as ‘Cupboard Things’: batteries and tissues and toothpaste and ketchup and shoe polish and all the myriad things that were needed for daily life. The other side was issues like ‘How do we wash our clothes? Is there a way to adapt our human gadgets to run off Arcateenian power sources?’ and so on and on. The Seeker did his best to off-load all these onto Jack, partly just because Jack was far more knowledgeable of where to get stuff and what alternatives there might be available.

The other one was more complex: It concerned living in an alien culture and being unsure how to navigate life. Not just who to ask, but what to ask.

One day, about a month after they had moved in to their Moomin house, the Seeker made an early morning stop, bringing a few more of the books Jamie couldn’t live without. Part of him wanted to say something scathing about how they should have planned for all the books, but on the plus side there soon wouldn’t be space for him to stay even if they wanted him to, which would solve part of the problem…

Except as he tried to tip-toe into the designated library-slash-guest-room he found himself confronted by Josh. He had been appreciating the furniture — it was clearly handcrafted with great attention to detail and Swedish inspired: Carl and Karin Larsson specifically, rather than the Seeker’s basic IKEA pieces. Jamie and Josh were furnishing their new home with the utmost care, and it pleased the Seeker greatly. He still remembered their ugly little London flat.

“Right, we can’t do this anymore,” Josh said, throwing him out of his thoughts. “We need you to put this ridiculous language and culture and history into our heads.”

Josh looked like he had only just fallen out of bed, hair a mess and a kimono thrown on over… well, possibly nothing at all (and wasn’t that a distracting thought? Last time… oh last time… last time he had thrown Josh against a wall, had felt compliance and adoration and his kiss had been like finally breathing again—)… wait, what had he been saying?

“Say what?” the Seeker replied, the pile of books in his arms a welcome barrier between them. He was pathetically grateful that the mental barriers he had constructed were holding, since Josh was clearly not sensing his inner turmoil.

No, Josh fixed him with a serious look, folded his arms and launched into a whole little speech:

“We can cope with the telepathy, but the translation thing is beyond annoying. And I figure that you can probably just put everything into our heads — I don’t have the time or patience to learn it properly and I keep making mistakes or offending people. They’re very polite about it, but I can tell they’re annoyed. Not to mention measuring systems and musical annotations for Jamie and…” He waved his hands around. “Can you just shove it all in there?”

They had clearly been ready for arguments, but the Seeker simply nodded and acquiesced.

Even so, he warned them that his own experiences of living on a ‘science’ planet for a year were substantially different from settling down on an ‘art’ planet. He’d lived in basic guest accommodation and had never spent any amount of time worrying about practical issues. He tried to explain it as like having been to Scandinavia on a school trip and his friends now settling in Morocco — just saying ‘but they’re all humans’ wasn’t useful.

“You say that,” Josh shot back. “But we lit a candle the other night and Szrii freaked out! And there are so many things that are just… so different. They don’t have paper! And… they like bugs. We nearly caused a scene the other day when saying some fugly little grubs were gross and they looked at us as if we’d said that we wanted to dismember Baby Yoda or something… It’s like that black swan thing? We don’t know what we don’t know. It’s stressful.”

The Seeker nodded. It made sense, and the less he had to baby-sit them, the better. Plus, the finicky technical aspects proved a nice distraction from, well, other distractions.

However it was still a shaky start. He was navigating unknown waters and had no idea if the set-up he had proposed could work.

His aim, not stated outright but guiding his actions, was the belief (or possibly delusional hope) that routine could be the key to managing the issues. If he trained them all, habit would do the rest, right? Right? He would ask himself this, continually, and didn’t get any closer to an answer — especially when Josh would smile at him or Jamie share a stray melisma, and breathless longing winded him to the point where he felt like he needed to brace himself against something.

It felt like he was being attacked on two fronts: the loss of Allison a constant ache, and the impossibility of Josh and Jamie, right at his fingertips, an unending push-pull of desire and negation.

(Mum is happy, his treacherous mind would whisper to him, What’s the harm in staying just one night…?)

He’d always felt vague disdain for addicts, wondering at why they would count days or months or years of sobriety (was simple self-control really that difficult?), but was beginning to find a great deal of affinity with them.

‘Day’ was a nebulous designation, considering how they lived across different planets and time zones, but he counted his own, personal days (although they varied in length) and he found it a helpful tool.

(It had been 86 days since he had last violated his friends.)

Thankfully, focussing on his own building work on his planet kept the Seeker plenty busy, even as it was bitter sweet: The itinerary encompassed all the things left half finished over the past years — things he had hoped to share with Allison, curious about her ideas, her input.

Allison being lost, he decided to simply carry on with his original plans, which came in several stages.

Firstly what he referred to as ‘DIY’ and Josh called ‘construction projects’. Paving the large courtyard was so simple that he wondered why he had waited so long, and Josh had been ready with the design for the tower almost before he’d asked. The view was as spectacular as he’d known it would be (he had planned the house very carefully), but it was still a daily delight to go up the stairs on a morning and take in the magnificent sunrise.

The main building project however was constructing further ‘labs’ ready for his next project: re-creating and then introducing Gallifreyan wildlife of all kinds to the planet.

He regularly cursed his younger self, wondering who had let an impatient teenager design a planet and take several shortcuts to get something that looked right, rather than working on the whole of the ecosystem from the start.

Of course he knew why — it was wildly complicated and would require years of studying and experimentation in order to work, and by taking shortcuts he had a liveable place rather than an emerging primordial creation. Which was a definite bonus, he couldn’t deny that.

But the added complications were still bothersome, and he set out a framework for his studies with considerable annoyance at his past self.

And in addition to the general complexities, his father would periodically ask if he had built a dungeon yet and made no effort to hide his disappointment at the inevitable response.

“Father, if you would give me a useful, practical reason for creating a dungeon, I’d do it.”

“Listen son, you never know when you might need to interrogate an enemy.”

The Seeker stared at him.

“What enemy? The only people I know are my friends, scientists or suppliers.”

A deep sigh, as his father shook his head.

“You don’t have any enemies yet. But when you do, it’s best to be prepared.”

Dragging a hand through his hair, the Seeker tried not to pull a face. Would he ever get out of conversations like this? It was like being stuck in a never-ending time-loop.

“Look I’d… probably just kill them, why’d I’d want to throw them in a dungeon?”

A sudden penetrating look, and a glint in his father’s eyes that made him shiver: “You’re killing people?”

He almost took a step back, wanting to ward off the hope and dark desire he could see glittering.

“No dad. I’m not killing people, nor do I plan on doing so. And I’m not going to build a dungeon!”

With a petulant pout his father eventually abandoned the discussion, but the Seeker knew that it was only a temporary reprieve. His father in these cases was a like a dog with a bone, figuring that repetition would wear him down. And the worst thing was that it wasn’t a bad strategy, he just wanted a quiet life without constant nagging…

He pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated.

Although — he had been thinking of creating a wine cellar… He could shove a set of handcuff in a corner (River had left some once), and overall it might be enough to keep his father off his back.

At least his uncle was encouraging, even if his one visit was very brief and most of it was taken up with discussing the Seeker’s ‘Plan’.

(It had been 115 days since he had last violated his friends.)

April 2031

The first time it rained, Jamie cried.

They had been warned that the Rain-Season was about to start, but no one had explained about the music.

All sie knew was that sie was in their tiny kitchen, missing take-aways greatly and wondering about Food Options and what exactly they had in the house (had they run out of pasta? Again?), when sie became aware of… sound. Sound that sie couldn’t place.

Looking out of the small window panes, sie saw that the grass on the other side of the glass sphere was darkening and then noticed the rain streaks on the sphere itself. But none of that explained the odd sort of humming noise.

Sie called out to Josh before venturing out into the rain — and then stopped in shock. The very air seemed to be composed of music; a multi-tonal hum or murmur or vibration, rising out of sie-knew-not-what and with the rain itself as a background thrum and baseline.

It was the most beautiful thing sie had ever experienced and sie took no notice of how the rain drenched hir (and hir delicate dry-clean-only outfit) as sie stood motionless, absorbing the impossibility.

Presently Josh joined hir, cocking his head in wonder and then a smile broke out on his face.

“Oh, so this is what they mean when they talk about ‘resonance’! Jamie — it’s the buildings and the spheres. The materials are created so rain produces specific resonances, generating different notes-”

“It’s the whole city,” Jamie whispered, not noticing the tears that were mingling with the raindrops on hir cheeks. “The whole city. Every building is a part in the orchestra…”

Hir voice trailed off, the enormity of it too much to comprehend. Every new building would have had to be carefully tuned so as to fit in — the scale was too large, the commitment to pure beauty too much for hir to comprehend fully.

When sie had somewhat composed hirself, they summoned the Seeker.

He was not as overawed as Jamie had hoped (a simple, half-distracted, “Nice. And clever”), but then said: “Come with me.”

Teleporting north he took them to a forest, and Jamie’s world was tilted once more. The rain on the leaves caused an unconscious symphony — not as carefully tuned as the city, but wild and free.

The Seeker then began talking about the way the leaves were structured on a molecular level and how they had evolved to create music and why, and Jamie had to fight not to shake him.

Instead sie grabbed him by the hands and let their foreheads touch, gently creating a song from the rain-drop melody to help him hear what sie could hear (drawing on the lessons sie was now learning), the melding of nature and creation, a soundscape as vast as the sky and as simple as a leaf; but when he finally opened his eyes again sie felt enveloped in that golden eternity that they could always sense at the very edge of their awareness, but wider, closer, all-encompassing, the rain-tune turning to galaxies glittering like diamonds, dipping in and out of time…

Except then he abruptly stepped back, looking like he too was going to cry and shaking his head.

“Too close,” he whispered. “Too close by far.”

A little later, back on their island, he seemed to have recovered a bit more and remarked that he presumed sie was doing well in hir studies.

Jamie felt like saying that it wasn’t difficult… Sie had hir inspiration(s) in front of her all the time.

Shaken, the Seeker returned to his planet, feeling like he had been playing with fire and knowing that the only thing that had saved him was the fail-safe — it had been 164 days since he had last violated his friends, but he’d very almost needed to reset the counter.

(The fail-safe was the only thing he had been able to think of as a way to prevent himself falling when in actual danger of giving in — it had taken a huge amount of concentration and complex mental work, but he had managed to link the action of Almost Giving In to the moment Josh had pushed him out of the window; something shocking enough, he figured, to kick him out of any perilous craving.)

Although it had been worth it for the wonder of Jamie’s talent; sie truly was a marvel of marvels, he had no words for what sie created — something new, something unique. No, he could never regret the unusual path of his life, despite the personal difficulties it posed.

The building work was accomplished after a few months, and he surveyed the new buildings with satisfaction. They were circular like the other labs, but larger, and still mostly empty. However filling them was still a way off…

The next step on his schedule was constructing computer models which required mapping the whole of the planet in detail, from below the ocean floor to the tallest mountains.

He could have used drones or just put up a few satellites, but had decided to do the mapping ‘in person’, methodically flying over the whole planet, quadrant by quadrant and, as the weeks went by, gaining an in-depth knowledge of his new home, a place which had until then mostly been where his house happened to be.

After each new area had been charted he’d print off a map and pin it to the walls of his circular ’sitting room’, and then adding notes by hand if necessary.

At night he’d sit by his fireplace and simply survey his work, slowly beginning to feel like he was building a basis for himself and his life. Something uniquely his, something tangible and physical (the very ground beneath his feet), and it felt good.

It was also a marvellous distraction from his friends.

Due to time and scheduling differences it was difficult to have a properly set routine, but he tried to stop by twice a week on an evening (Arcateenian time) staying for dinner and then usually ending up in the cosy sitting room, Josh and Jamie on the sofa and the Seeker in an armchair, chatting or gaming or simply just ‘watching tv’ (a very loose term covering anything they could display on the screen).

They even played Monopoly once, but the Seeker won so completely that they decreed they could never play it again. (“We all grew up under capitalism, you have no excuse for not knowing that ruthlessness is the name of the game!”)

There would also be news to pass on from Josh’s mother, or Jack, or Jamie’s family, and general information about what Josh had been learning and Jamie’s compositions, and the Seeker would try to explain whatever he was currently working on; this worked pretty well while he was doing building work, as Josh would be interested and offer suggestions, but the mapping project they found mostly dull, since his interest was maps and geographical and geological data, not the landscape. And he plain refused to let Josh use his planet as a place to test ideas and build experimental buildings.

But overall it was nice — their evenings were pleasant and enjoyable, and he realised that he was able to simply enjoy his friends’ company. That they could ‘hang out’ and that he could maybe, possibly, regain some of what he had lost. That it might still be possible to be friends.

At the end of the night would say goodbye, travel home to his own planet, and add another day to his ongoing count.

And, despite the hurdles (some expected, some blindsiding him) through sheer repetition (day by day, week by week, month by month) the new arrangement began to become ‘the new normal’.

Chapter Text

June 2031

Once the mapping was completed and thoroughly logged and evaluated, the Seeker began his ‘proper’ studies. (His Cambridge University courses might as well have been a colouring book in comparison.)

He spent countless hours (adding up to days, months, years) searching through the TARDIS’s database and Roda’s library, and from that research created his own extensive database of Gallifreyan fauna.

There were tafelshrews and flubbles and trunkikes and yaddlefish, animals he had heard about during his childhood, but he knew that an eco system needed creatures on every level — he would need insects and grubs and fungi and slime moulds and whatever other weird life forms had existed within the Gallifreyan biome.

Everything was connected, everything would affect everything else and there could be no gaps, no forgotten spaces, and so he interspersed his studies with visits to planetologists working to re-invigorate dead planets, as well as biologists working to recreate extinct animals and a bunch of other ‘ologists’ (as his friends referred to them).

“Are you okay?” his uncle asked one day, checking up on him since he had been studying for ten hours straight, hunched over a screen in the study area the TARDIS had created for him in a forgotten nook next to the Library, and the Seeker simply stared at his uncle in mute incomprehension.

Was he okay? Okay? ‘Okay’ was a chimera, a wished-for state of mind that was as unattainable as fixing his friends or patching up his broken hearts.

“I’m keeping busy,” he said eventually, and the Doctor eyed him up for a long moment, dragging his hand through his hair, then nodded.

“So I see,” he said lightly. “When did you last eat?”

“Breakfast?” he offered, and in response his uncle turned off his screen.

“Hey!” the Seeker exclaimed, “I was in the middle of something!”

“And your mother will do worse than kill me if I don’t feed you,” the Doctor countered. “Let’s go get some chips or…”

“Blue seaweed wraps from Venus?” the Seeker interrupted.

“The ones that taste like old socks?” the Doctor chuckled. “Sure.”

As he sat in the TARDIS doorway a little later with a blue wrap of deliciousness, legs dangling over the Horsehead Nebula and his uncle wittering on about his latest adventure, he tried very hard not to think about how Allison would check up on him and make sure he had eaten.

(It had been 213 days since he had last violated his friends)

July 2031

As weeks turned into months Josh and Jamie began having visitors. They did their best to ferry their guests around, showing the visitors all the ‘sights’, and also found themselves having to answer an endless stream of questions about their daily lives, their studies, the Star Poets, the planet and the wider society…

(‘Karma’ the Seeker quietly muttered to himself.)

Josh would illustrate his studies with 3D hologram models, explaining how he was trying to master all the different materials and building methods — to begin with just for the Arcateenian system (which was hugely varied in itself), but then looking to understand architecture on a wider scale across the galaxy. Possibly even travelling back in time to learn lost techniques. (He had not forgotten his dream to recreate the Seven Ancient Wonders of the World.) He was skipping from department to department, soaking up knowledge and then moving on, trading on his charm and novelty to help tailor the studies to his own ends.

Jamie on the other hand had simply joined a ‘First Year’ study group. When trying to explain hir studies, rather than offering any explanations sie would usually introduce their visitors to ‘hir’ singers. Since sie didn’t sing herself sie had been allocated singers from amongst hir fellow students, and they had quickly banded together into a tight-knit friendship group, fiercely defending their roles as Jamie’s singers, as Jamie’s unusual compositions began to become known in the school as something other — something interesting and different from the more ‘traditional’ Star Poet compositions that were being taught.

Their very first visitor was Matt, who was very impressed but found the telepathic aspect deeply unsettling and plain refused to even put a necklace on. When he discovered that the glass bubbles were ‘telepathy proof’ he had to be coaxed out of their house as he felt sure that someone would read his thoughts wherever they went, and only reluctantly agreed to take Josh’s word that a) No one would do that, it would be like tearing someone’s clothes off on Earth and b) No one would be interested in the thoughts of a human Junior Doctor.

“But don’t you get homesick?” he asked, and they shook their heads, perplexed. Their home was the Seeker. But they couldn’t explain that — they still remembered how badly wrong it had gone last time they had tried.

Jamie’s grandmother (although very frail) insisted on ‘seeing the place for herself’ and was by far the most open-minded human guest they had, being delighted with everything and marvelling at ‘seeing such sights at her age’.

Even the Doctor was allowed to visit, although the Seeker insisted on picking him up rather than just letting him drop by — he claimed that the TARDIS was always looking for trouble and would somehow bring calamity upon them all. (“I swear, if you went near 1666 you’d start the Great Fire of London!” he quipped and, off the look on the Doctor’s face, he threw his hands up in surrender.) It was a successful visit however, the Doctor (as always) enthusiastic and supportive.

Jack of course dropped by regularly, occasionally bringing Roda with him, and the two would outdo each other with fantastical and impossible tales.

August 2031

Josh was nervous. He’d been telling his mother to come visit for months, but now that she was actually coming he wasn’t sure how to feel. She was bringing Gorden (of course) and he was excited to show her everything… but he also wanted her to be happy. Happy about his choices, happy for him, for them — he was so tired of arguing with her.

“You want approval,” the Seeker dryly observed, and Josh sniffed unhappily in response and glared. He knew how easily the whole thing could devolve into an argument, because the Seeker could always hold up ‘Evil Parents’ as an annoying contender in the ‘Who Has It Worst’ competition.

But instead the Seeker rolled his eyes.

“Look I understand. I’ll skedaddle, because I don’t want her glaring daggers at me the whole time, but I hope she comes round. You can blame me for anything she dislikes.”

And with a wink he teleported away.

In theory it was a successful visit, in the same way that going home for Hanukkah had been successful. Yet Josh knew that under the surface everything was still wrong. And he didn’t know how to fix it. Or even if it could be fixed.

His mother spent a good portion of her visit criticising his hair (he’d let it grow, partly due to the lack of hairdressers), but he knew that it was merely a cover for all the things they couldn’t talk about. He tried to bring up the Seeker once and she shut him down immediately.

If there was a way towards reconciliation he couldn’t see it. It was the only dent in their otherwise contented life.

September 2031

Checking his ‘Saxon’ mailbox, the Seeker came across an email from his cousin Geoffrey, tentatively proposing a meeting. He sounded curious rather than hostile, and the Seeker looked at it for a long time before pressing ‘snooze’. He did not have the mental (or emotional) space to deal with his family right now, but maybe in 50 years?

(It had been 293 days since he had last violated his friends)

October 2031

“You wanted to see me?”

Jamie, in a colourful kaftan and looking impossibly elegant as usual, did a strange little nod and stepped back so Jack could enter the house.

Jack loved the house (it was fantastically cosy and and the interior design was delightfully colourful and innovative), and he loved visiting the youngsters, but he had a hunch that something was up, and Jamie’s behaviour confirmed it. Sie took him through to the sitting room, indicated that he should take a seat and handed him a cup of tea. Sie then fetched Josh.

Jack, by now deeply curious, made himself comfortable in the armchair and noted, pleased, that he had been given his favourite mug (the one where the showgirl lost her clothes when the cup was filled with hot liquid).

“Right,” Jamie began. “Jack, we need your help. Or rather, Josh needs your help. It’s been a year since he fell out with his mum, and they’re no nearer to working something out.”

Jack looked from Josh to Jamie, thrown. “And what am I supposed to do?”

Jamie studied him levelly. “They’re both horribly stubborn, as I believe you know. But Josh listens to you. This is… the one problem that can’t be solved by the Seeker, since he is the cause. Just…” hir voice trailed off. “Just please help?”

Jack felt like repeating that he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. He knew full-well how strong-willed Esther could be (their brief stint ‘dating’ had been fraught — the woman was incredible, but he also felt like handing Gorden a medal for sticking around), and in his opinion the whole thing was a case of ‘unstoppable force meeting immovable object’.

However the words died on lips as he realised that this was simply yet another fallout of his actions. He knew the Seeker’s attitude was a simple ‘I fucked it up, it can’t be unfucked, she just needs to accept it’ which, whilst true, didn’t give anyone a place to start reconciling.

Jamie then excused hirself — sie was off for a lesson — so Jack was left with an ambivalent-looking Josh. Well that made two of them.

Taking a sip of the tea he’d been furnished with, he figured he’d best make a start:

“Not sure how to do this, and I only have the Seeker’s side. Why don’t you just tell me everything, and I’ll see if I can figure something out?”

Josh nodded and (from habit or because he genuinely trusted Jack still) offloaded the whole situation onto him, as Jack listened patiently.

“What do I do?” he finished, looking cute and helpless, big brown eyes pleading. Added to which his outfit of tight pink hotpants and matching open pink hawaian shirt made Jack feel like he was somewhere in LA, coaching the Hot Young Talent. Jack found this idea very appealing.

“We’re at this… stalemate,” Josh carried on, “and like, I realise we’re both really stubborn, but I’m not going to move back to Earth and she just won’t accept-”

Jack held up a hand. His head was busy working along a whole host of different paths, but one thing stood out very clearly. Something none of them seemed to have noticed.

“Look: You’re both scared. Your mother is afraid that she is losing you to ‘aliens’ — and you are afraid that you are losing her to her new boyfriend.”

Josh opened his mouth, but Jack cut him off, happily settling into his Wise Uncle Dispensing Wisdom mode:

“Listen kid, I’ve dated a lot of single mothers, I know that look in your eyes: I’ve been the cause of it often enough to recognise it. So. The important point is this: Neither the Seeker nor Gorden are going to ask either of you to choose. You get to have both.”

“But I already chose, I’m here-”

“And if the Seeker was entirely out of the picture, would you stay here or go back to Earth?”

Josh blinked, clearly thrown at the unexpected question.

“Stay here. Obviously. Jamie’s family-”

“And without Jamie-” Jack pressed on.

“There’s no ‘without Jamie’,” Josh interrupted, tight-lipped, and Jack leaned back in his chair, smiling smugly and feeling vindication flowing through him.

“And there you go.”

Josh looked adorably befuddled, clearly not following Jack’s logic.

“What do you mean?”

Jack shook his head. “As far as I can work out, all of this stems from…” he hesitated briefly, “-from what happened with the Seeker, yes? But as we just established, your line in the sand isn’t the Seeker — it’s Jamie. And as far as I am aware your mother has never had major issues with your marriage?”

“No, but-”

“No buts!” A beat, then he grinned. “OK, scratch that, butts are great, but the main thing is — I’m a smart guy. Think about this logically and then talk to your mother. The Seeker enabled all this,” he held out his hand to indicate the house, their new lives, “-but I think I’m right in saying your choices would be the same if, say, I had asked you if you wanted to run off to the stars. Seriously, who wouldn’t want to run away? All young people leave and build their own lives. It’s called growing up. You just ran a little further than most.”

“But-” Josh tried again.

“But the Seeker fucked you up, I know. However you’re all being very mature and responsible about it and I think you’ll be fine.”

Josh looked at him wonder.

“How did you do that?”

“I’m very old, and very wise,” he replied smugly.

Except at his words Josh’s eyes narrowed. The kid knew him too well…

“You mean you fucked around a found out?”

Jack laughed. “Many many times over, oh yes. I also fucked-”

“Don’t say it!” Josh exclaimed, horrified, and Jack acquiesced, rolling his eyes fondly. After all, no child wanted to think of their parents having a sex life.

There was a pause, then Josh looked up from under his eyelashes, biting his lip, and Jack felt the shift as clearly as if the ground itself had moved. Star pupil and no mistake.

“I… didn’t think this was what we were going to talk about,” Josh offered.

“No?” Jack replied and Josh hesitated.

“I… oh what the hell, I — I want to fuck around. Or rather, we want to fuck around, literally. The Seeker has taken himself off the menu which sucks, but there is a whole universe out there. And we don’t… know where to start. Or how to start. ”

Jack’s smile widened, white and bright and wolfish, and he reached out and grasped Josh’s shoulder.

“Oh I’ll see you right, don’t you worry my little padawan. You are going to have the most fun, trust me.”

November 2031

Mostly things were going well the Seeker reflected. Life was a solid routine, with studies and twice-weekly visits to his friends, and even Josh seemed more optimistic about his relationship with his mother. The Seeker gathered that Jack had done something, and once more felt that mixture of gratitude and guilt for how Jack continually had to fix the mess he had made of their lives.

But Jack assured him that it was fine — more than fine actually — and the Seeker decided not to ask further questions. He knew what that grin meant.

However there were occasional hitches, like the day when he came across the duffle coat Allison had given him, shoved into the back of a rarely-used wardrobe.

(“You’re only human Alex, you’ll catch your death walking around without a coat. And I prefer my boyfriend to be alive - a funny quirk I know, but that’s me.”)

The world went momentarily black, and he had to sit down for a fully five minutes before his legs would work again. Then he carefully packed the coat away in a box, labelled it up and threw it into this ‘dungeon’.

From the dungeon it was half a step into the wine cellar, where he drank through two bottles of whiskey in one sitting, insides still shaking and feeling like his hands had been scalded where he had touched the coat; if nothing else the alcohol numbed his senses.

How could anything hurt this much?

(“Are you okay?” the Doctor asked in his memory and he had to suppress a sobbing laugh.)

He wanted his friends. Wanted them so much it scared him. He grabbed hold of his teleport pendant and knew that they were a single push of a button away: one simple action and the most beautiful music in the universe would chase away his despair.

He fought against himself silently, fingernails digging grooves in his palms as he struggled, but eventually he ripped off the pendant and tossed it into a corner.

Reaching out, he grabbed a third bottle. There would be no more studying for the next few days, and there was no point fighting.

(It had been exactly 365 days since he had last violated his friends)

December 2031

Josh had decided to ‘host’ the first night of Hanukkah and had invited not just his mother, Gorden and the Seeker, but also Gordon’s daughter, Suzanna, as well as Matt.

Suzanna was very excited — she had never visited before and was thrilled to go to an alien planet — but Matt protested that he was a junior doctor and couldn’t just run off on a whim! Josh waved his complaints aside with the reminder that the Seeker had time travel and everything would be fine.

Josh might also sort-of-kinda-maybe have been thinking of setting up Matt and Suzanna — it wasn’t a plan as such, more the fact that he knew that Matt was always working (and when he wasn’t working he was busy with all kinds of Good Causes), and that he’d never find a girlfriend unless the girl in question hit him over the head and told him they were now dating.

And Suzanna was an outgoing, gregarious sort, spending her life tagging swans and rescuing hedgehogs and other noble activities that would surely appeal to Matt. If he was honest, Josh was a little hazy on what exactly Suzanna did for a living except that it related to animals, but she was very friendly and seemed to have no issues with her father dating Josh’s mother, so Josh had decided that he liked her. Plus she she was currently single, so in theory it could all work out perfectly.

The only snag was that she was a few years older, but since he was himself married to someone five years older he didn’t consider this any sort of obstacle.

Unfortunately it didn’t work out like planned.

The Seeker let slip what he was currently working on during pre-dinner drinks, and Suzanna from then on latched onto him like a limpet, deeply intrigued, and continued to monopolise him the entire evening, asking many many questions about bio engineering and the process of recreating extinct animals.

Matt for his part got talking to Gorden about charity work and tax exemptions and other unutterably dull subjects, and so Josh ended up talking to his mother and simply… getting along; which was nice, he had to admit.

However the catalyst for change came when he (a little hesitantly) voiced the observation that Gorden seemed to be a bit of a wheeler dealer (some of the advice he was giving Matt seemed decidedly dodgy), to which his mother snorted and said: “Tell me about it! His middle name could be ‘Delboy’.”

Josh’s eyes widened in surprise. He was allowed to bitch about Gorden?

He was immediately reminded of how much he loved bitching with his mother, and leaned forwards conspiratorially.

“You know, sometimes we call the Seeker ‘Dexter’. As in, Dexter’s Lab, the cartoon about a clueless genius only focussed on building things? Heck, for ages he just referred to his planet as ‘my lab’.”

He twirled a bit of his now shoulder-length hair around his finger and added: “Obviously I’m Dee Dee, the ditzy sister”

His mother chuckled, taking a sip of her wine and raising an eyebrow. “Seems fitting. You just need to dye your hair blonde and put it up in little pigtails — and of course put on a pink tutu.”

Was this really happening? Josh felt hope spreading out, like tiny green tendrils, and topped up his mother’s wine glass. He’d yet to implement any of the advice Jack had given him, but he thought he might finally have found a way in.

1 January 2032

The Seeker decided to create a calendar for keeping track of his visits to his mother. Having snoozed Geoffrey’s request for a meeting, it occurred to him that he’d wasted years of his mother’s life by being busy with other things — but that there was no reason why he should keep his visits chronological. And if he kept a calendar he could make sure not to bump into a future or past self.

Within moments of making the calendar live, it was populated by countless blocked out entries, and he smiled happily. Future him was a good son, and his mother was not lonely.

(It had been 404 days since he had last violated his friends)

July 2032

After a year and a half (Earth time) Jamie’s ‘Music School’ conducted what sie tentatively thought of as ‘Exams’ or ‘End of Year Shows’. It was an imperfect analogy, but the students would perform for ‘the Arbitrars’ — something akin to governors and agents and examiners all in one, who would determine whether the students were ready to go out to perform or if more study was needed. They would also offer advice and guidance and help with finding suitable positions and so forth.

Jamie was both apprehensive and hopeful. Sie had worked hard, mastering knowledge and techniques and tools that had until little more than a year previously been nothing but instinct and haphazard trial and error, and was keen to know what ‘the establishment’ might think of hir efforts.

However after the performance, the hoped-for commendations didn’t follow.

Some welcomed the innovative approach and the fusion of ‘alien’ influences, even if they doubted it would be in any way commercially viable or exportable, except as some exotic curiosity.

But there were other voices; voices of disagreement and dissent. They felt that allowing ‘foreigners’ to study alongside Star Poets was a travesty and a clear sign of their ancient arts being commercialised and cheapened by being ‘mingled’ with alien influences — had they cast aside Theocracy just to see all their values being thrown overboard? Who had authorised this whole charade? It was an insult to all that was good and proper and so on and on and on.

Despite family and friends and tutors rallying round, the hurt cut deeper than they could guess, and Jamie’s new-found happy confidence cratered. Sie had never felt a part of ‘humanity’ — too scared to be open about hir real identity — and now it was like hir new home was rejecting hir also.

But sie was used to keeping up a facade, used to not letting anyone see hir actual emotions, so sie put on a brave face for everyone else; but when sie got back to their little house sie collapsed in tears. Josh did his best to soothe and pacify, but it made no difference, and he could feel the old walls come back up.

Worried and unsure how to proceed, Josh rang the Seeker.

The Seeker was buried in research (almost literally — it was sheer luck that the book piles in Roda’s Library hadn’t fallen on him), but after listening to Josh pleading for five minutes and barely drawing breath, he agreed to come along immediately rather than waiting for their dinner in two days’ time.

He arrived to a house deep with tension and near-despair, the air feeling like murky treacle, and he almost wished himself back under the book pile.

Taking a seat in the armchair opposite Jamie he tried not to sigh.

“Jamie? Since when do you care what people think?”

Jamie, a sad blanketed shape on the sofa, shook hir head.

“This is different.”

“No, it isn’t. Look it sucks that it isn’t all rainbows and wonder, but — like I keep telling you both — that’s life. Back on Earth you had to fight to be accepted for who you were, and apparently you’ll have to do the same now. At least against the old fogeys who are terrified of anything new.”

Jamie slowly lifted hir head, a frown forming.

“But-”

“But nothing. They’re simply bigots frightened of change. Like — oh thingy, wizard lady¹, who is now a raging xenophobe and only thinks pureblood humans should be allowed to exist? And who would totally have the two of us strung up in the gallows for the sake of ‘keeping humans safe’ if she knew who we really are.”

Jamie’s eyes widened. “They don’t want to kill me! They’re just… well… scared… I guess.”

The Seeker studied the unhappy blanket and shook his head.

“Are you scary? Will you destroy all their hallowed traditions?”

Sie hesitated for a long moment. “I… might?”

This gave him pause. Except for the rain thing he’d not really been keeping tabs on their studies, going for the same hands-off approach he had used with Allison, and he tilted his head.

“Explain.”

Jamie took a shaky breath.

“The piece I presented was… um… are you familiar with Mirei Shigemori?”

The Seeker did a deep dive into his internal filing system and then frowned.

“He was an architect?”

“Yes. Very innovative, very… Look, this is what I used as inspiration.”

Sie sent along an image², a garden with a checker-board effect of alternating tiles and grass, squares of stone and green in a neat pattern that slowly came undone, grass overcoming the tiles and the motif gradually turning to randomness.

“I did the same with music? Starting out with a neat, regimented theme following all the rules and then letting it sort of… peter out? Kind of like letting a symphony turn into jazz?”

Sie swallowed, shook hir head before catching his eyes.

“I… I see the world through such different eyes. I don’t mean to, but… everything I do is different. New. I’m changing things. Maybe they should be scared.”

The Seeker sat back, intrigued and baffled and (quietly) impressed. Shooting Josh a swift look, he tapped his fingers on the armrest.

“I always said you were a Taj Mahal: Something new and unique. I’d say stop hiding, go out there and be magnificent.”

A long moment, then sie pulled the blanket closer again, shooting the Seeker a swift glance. Sie looked tired and pleading.

“I just thought that… that I wouldn’t have to fight anymore.”

(The ‘because of you’ didn’t even need saying.)

At this the Seeker’s eyes hardened.

“And I thought that my friends wouldn’t keep looking at me like I’m the freaking Messiah. Guess we’re both bound for disappointment.”

A beat, then he added:

“I will open doors for you. But that’s all. You have to walk through them yourself.”

At which point Josh threw up his hands.

“Would it kill you to just be nice?”

The Seeker frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” Josh shot back, and the Seeker felt his hands curl into fists. It hurt to see them upset, and yes, he wanted to sweep in and change the world for them. Although that wasn’t all that Josh was asking…

(‘Just one kiss. One song. Everyone would be happy.’)

The worst part was that his own mind was the most treacherous of all, whispering to him of things he knew he shouldn’t give into, and he closed his eyes which was a mistake. He could sense them: Jamie’s distress, Josh’s pleading, and it would be so very easy to give in.

He took a deep breath, got to his feet and simply said: “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

(It had been 495 days since he had last violated his friends.)

He returned to Roda’s TARDIS to carry on studying, but was met at the door by Roda herself.

“So what happened?” she asked, leaning against the console, clearly worried. He had rather rushed off, so he figured he owed her an explanation.

Sighing he sketched in the situation, which made Roda look deeply concerned:

“So what did you do?”

He shook his head. “Nothing much.”

“Nothing much?” she echoed, incredulous.

“What could I do? I was as encouraging as I could be, but the things they want are not things I can — or should — give.”

(We can not be together when one of us is vulnerable, he thought. Those are the dangerous moments. I must take care to avoid them at all costs.)

Roda studied him for a long moment in silence, arms folded and eyes growing dark.

He wasn’t sure what was going through her head, but she oddly reminded him of his Uncle before launching into A Speech. This was not a comforting thought.

Then she swore under her breath, swiping her fringe out of her eyes.

“It’s complicated and you’re just a tot. Go back to the library. But I hope you don’t mind me going to see Jamie.”

“Mind?” he replied, surprised. “I’d be grateful! If you could help Jamie… that would be incredible.”

When he came along for their regular evening meal two days later Jamie hugged him for several minutes in gratitude, as he feebly protested that Roda’s visit had nothing to do with him, and the little timer in his head shouted at him increasingly loudly. But it was reassuring that sie’d had some useful advice, whatever it had been.

After that he gathered that Roda became a more frequent visitor in her own right, rather than just accompanying Jack occasionally. This was another bonus, since — apart from using her library to gather information for his new project — he had abandoned their studies, which made him feel like a flake. He would get back to Solar Engineering eventually of course, but it would be several decades at least.

2033

“Been meaning to ask — what happened to your Star Wars poster?” Jack asked one evening as they were sprawling on the sofa in the Seeker’s sitting room, an old Bond movie playing out on the screen. “Or your Jungle Book one, or Serenity?” he added.

The Seeker shot him a puzzled look.

“I put up maps?” he offered, extending a hand to encompass the circular room, covered in annotated maps, but Jack shook his head.

“But you put up that-” he indicated the poster above the fireplace with his beer bottle, “-yet didn’t keep any of the others.”

The Seeker took a moment before he answered.

“I put everything from uni in my dungeon. Too many… associations.”

Blue eyes fastened on him with sudden focus.

“You have a dungeon now?”

The Seeker snorted.

“Don’t get any ideas. It’s the small locked room next to the wine cellar. I use it as a box room.”

Jack shot him another searching look, but then shrugged and took another gulp of his beer.

“And the Dune poster?”

The Seeker looked up at the orange sand dunes and the ominous visage of Paul Atreides and pulled a face.

“A present from dad some years ago. It makes for a good warning.”

The path I must never take. Never be swayed by prophecies.

“If I ever start talking about being an Emperor, stop me okay?” he added.

“Sure,” Jack replied, unconcerned. “For now, could you talk about getting some furniture maybe?”

“I have furniture,” he protested, but Jack shook his head.

“This room is huge. A single sofa and sofa table does not constitute ‘furniture’.”

“There’s also a cabinet,” the Seeker muttered, and Jack sighed deeply. “A drinks cabinet. Josh and Jamie’s house is gorgeous, why don’t you ask them to do up this place? You don’t have to live like this.”

The Seeker glared at him. “I like it this way, and I’d prefer my life to stay clutter free, thank-you-very-much. And I certainly don’t need interior design advice from the guy who lives in a Victorian Batcave.”

“Touché,” Jack chuckled. “But at least get one ornament for your mantlepiece? To make it look like someone actually lives here?”

The Seeker mulled this over.

“I could ask mum I suppose. She has some nice heirlooms that I wouldn’t mind.”

(It had been 1090 days since he had last violated his friends)

2034
Earth, the Cotswolds

There were fairy lights hanging in the orchard’s fruit trees and festive balloons waving in the gentle breeze. Twilight was softly stealing across the sky above, and it was the most perfect of summer evenings.

Esther looked at the gathering — friends and family and neighbours, the rabbi under the cherry tree, the garden itself which was hers — and felt that surely it was a dream.

“Ready mum?” Josh murmured, and she tightened her hold on his arm. Catching his eyes he smiled back; beautiful, happy, supportive. And finally with a decent haircut. But for once her son wasn’t her focus.

Looking ahead she locked eyes with the man she had come to love. The man she was about to marry. How was any of this real? How was this her life?

“Ready,” she replied, lifting her chin.

He nodded and then (she belatedly realised) must have signalled Jamie — because a second later music expanded all around them. She had known that the Star Poet singers had been hovering in the air behind them, had noted the guests who had been unable to stop from turning to look up at them, but she had not expected the impact. In her head ‘singers’ equalled ‘choir’, but this was something else. Breathtakingly beautiful the melody wrapped around them, as if emanating from the very air or the trees.

But she had promised herself that she wouldn’t cry so she began to walk forwards, into her new life. Accompanied by music from another world…

After the service and the glass breaking and the photos and the cake cutting and all the other rituals, she sought out the Seeker.

“Congratulations,” he said gravely. “I wish you many happy years together.”

She studied him, wondering how to say her piece, and then just deciding that straightforward and to the point were probably best.

“I haven’t forgiven you,” she began, and a ghost of a smile touched his mouth.

“I wasn’t expecting you to…”

“However-” she cut him off. “However I can’t deny that I wouldn’t have any of this without you… That Josh — and Jamie — wouldn’t be excelling the way they are without you.”

“Every cloud has a silver lining?” he offered, and she snorted.

“Stop with the analogies. I have a request: Grandchildren. I understand you have the technical know-how to make them a reality.”

But once again she saw sudden distance and rejection in his eyes.

“That is not up to you. If they ask, I am happy to help. But it has to be their wish.”

A beat, then he continued. “I do believe that the question of interfering in their free will is at the heart of your antagonism towards me, am I right?”

She was out-manoeuvred and she knew it.

“Damn you,” she said, knowing this was not the sort of sentiment that brides were supposed to espouse and not caring.

He held up his glass.

“Mazel Tov,” he responded, with an ironic tilt of the head. She would have thrown something cutting back at him, except then Gorden joined them and she had to pretend not to want to punch the guests.

As soon as possible, without wishing to appear to be more rude than he already had been, the Seeker returned to his own planet. He seemed to have lost the ability to charm people, the talent he had cultivated so carefully since a toddler… or maybe it was more accurate to say that he had lost the impetus. He’d used it as a smokescreen, a way to stop people looking beneath the surface so they wouldn’t guess at anything being off. But why bother now? He was no longer in hiding, and he didn’t really care if people liked him or not.

Still, he felt restless and unsettled. He knew what the cause was, the way that spending time on Earth always reminded him of Allison… Allison who would have told him off for his rudeness and demanded that he apologise; who would have spoken with Esther and been genuinely friendly and helpful and-

Dammit. He was stuck in a well-known pattern and knew there was no way out.

Figuring that he might as well bite the bullet sooner rather than later, he decided to check in on her — if nothing else he could get to see how she was getting on at NASA.

Instead the first thing he was faced with were her wedding photos; the happiness and joy searing, like acid biting away at the paltry, barely-there scabs he had managed to build up.

There was even a link to a piece of music her new husband had composed for her, which somehow felt like adding insult to injury.

Thanking the stars that Josh and Jamie were still on Earth — and that Jack would take them wherever they needed to go — he switched off his phone, drank for three days solid, and then carried on with his work.

And if he did some research on paradox machines and ways to alter timelines, then he justified it by telling himself that he might use it for seeding animals into the history of his planet.

(It had been 1311 days since he had last violated his friends)

2035

“Um, Seeker, can we cancel tomorrow’s dinner?”

The Seeker took a moment to look up from his work; Josh thought he might be in the TARDIS, but it was hard to tell. One pile of books and papers looked much like another.

“Cancel dinner? Why?” he asked, a puzzled frown on his face.

The weekly routine did get shifted occasionally, but usually the reason was front and centre — work or studies or friends or family or various activities. Josh tried to look innocent.

“I kinda did my back in?” he said, attempting nonchalance. “And Jamie’s a little under the weather…”

“Not to worry,” the Seeker replied, already shifting his attention back to his studies. “I’ll bring food.”

Josh opened his mouth, but the Seeker cut the connection before he could protest, and he was left staring at a blank screen. Damn. This could get tricky…

He got up to tell Jamie the news and immediately winced in pain. It was very much Worth It pain, but still. Awkward.

The following evening the Seeker showed up with tubs of food and bottle of wine, but shot Jamie a long look as he sat down.

“Is that a new outfit?” he asked, taking in the black turtleneck. “I feel you should have a beret to finish the look. And one of those long cigarette holders.”

Jamie smiled wanly and shrugged.

“It’s nice and warm,” sie offered, which made the Seeker’s eyes narrow, but he then started dishing out food. Josh knew that he usually did all of his cooking once a month and then froze meals for the weeks ahead, which was so insanely organised and dull that Josh wasn’t sure how the Seeker functioned. However it did mean that he always had food available, even if it was generally not as interesting as the ‘fusion cuisine’ they were now attempting (quite successfully, if he said so himself).

Unfortunately they did not escape that easily. Once they had finished eating the Seeker tilted his head the way they knew far too well.

“Right, what’s going on? If you have secrets that’s fine, but you’re doing a terrible job of keeping them.”

Josh glanced at Jamie and bit his lip. Before he could speak however, the Seeker leaned forward grasped Jamie’s arm, curiosity in his eyes.

“Or should I maybe just have a look?”

He waited a beat — long enough for Jamie to free hirself if sie wanted — and then pulled up hir sleeve, exposing a tell-tale trail of sucker marks.

“Ohh,” he said, eyes moving from Jamie’s arm to Josh’s face. “Well that explains a lot. I’m guessing this also accounts for your back…”

Letting go of Jamie’s arm and settling back in his chair he tapped the table with his fingertips.

“So how long have you been sampling… the, um… physical pleasures of the wider universe?”

He was clearly amused and Josh swallowed, feeling heat creep into his cheeks.

“‘Bout four years? Jack-”

The Seeker held up a hand. “Say no more. Although it’s good to know that he’s looking out for you. I just don’t understand why didn’t you tell me?”

Josh glanced at Jamie and hesitated.

“It… felt a bit like cheating? I know we’re not technically together, but-”

The Seeker nodded, smile fading.

“You didn’t want to rub my face in it. Makes sense and... It’s appreciated.”

“Yeah, that. But also-”

Fuck, he didn’t know how to word the next part. He couldn’t really say ‘You are a celibate, sexually sheltered hermit’ without sounding patronising, and so he searched for better words.

“But also we didn’t think you’d- I mean- you’ve only ever slept with Allison and us, and what we’re doing now is a lot more, um, experimental…”

His voice trailed off at the look on the Seeker’s face. It was a deeply perplexed look that only slowly resolved itself:

“Oh. I never told you why I was grounded.”

It was now their turn to be confused.

“What do you mean?” Jamie asked, and suddenly the Seeker was chuckling again. Mr Unflappable was becoming Mr Emotional Whiplash. “I guess tonight is a time for confessions…”

He took a sip of his wine and then carried on, eyes sparkling in a most distracting way and Josh felt like he couldn’t breathe, almost missing what he was saying.

“Tl;dr: For my 18th Jack took me to ‘the best little whore house in the galaxy’ and I ordered everything on the menu.”

Josh stared at his best friend, wordless with shock, trying to wrap his around this revelation.

“What do you mean ‘everything’?” Jamie asked, suspicious, and the Seeker shrugged. “I mean everything. Think back on all the things you’ve tried in the past, what, four years? I have probably done all of it, just… all in one go, pretty much.”

Josh sat up so abruptly that pain shot through his whole body, but he almost didn’t notice.

“All in one go? What the — What is wrong with you?”

The Seeker shrugged again, the smile fading. “And that is the million dollar question.”

Josh winced.

“I didn’t mean it like that-”

“Sure you did. And it’s a valid question. I have a serious problem with… bingeing. Case in point: Having all the sex in one go did very almost kill me. It was worth it, but-” He waved the hand that wasn’t holding a wine glass. “It was not very smart. Anyway, dad and my uncle found out about the sex and — to cut a long story short — I got grounded. Mostly because I refused to say that I was sorry.”

Another grin that made Josh feel winded with sudden longing.

If only… Oh if only.

2036

It had been five years since they had settled on Arcateen V, and Josh and Jamie were doing their best to build their careers — a slow process, as most potential clients proved to be cut from the same cloth as the Arbitrars; they erred on the side of trusting the familiar, and if they had the choice between a Star Poet or a half (or whole) human from a planet they had never heard of, who had odd and newfangled ideas, they picked the one they knew.

But then something happened which no one could have foreseen: One of Jamie’s cousins composed a song about hir, named ‘The Returned Child’³.

The song of the Star Poet gone rogue and their offspring — the half-Star Poet, half-human, who had returned to their home — was an engaging and unusual tale that made for a ready hit.

To begin with it spread across Arcateen V, as the journeymen singers were always looking for new songs to add to their repertoire — especially ones with a well-crafted melody and an unusual story — and they then helped the song spread further out across the planets they visited in the wider galaxy.

The outcome was that Jamie’s fame began to grow, far beyond hir wildest expectations.

However fame brought unexpected consequences, mostly in the form of not having to look for work, so much as work coming to them.

Jamie found the whole phenomenon strange and tried to explain it to the Seeker one evening when he stopped by for their regular dinner.

“Eh, back on Earth you’re famous for winning the lottery,” he shrugged. “This is much nicer. And the song is far more beautiful than tabloid headlines.”

“It’s weird though,” sie replied, frowning, and unable to let go of the strange conundrum. “It’s my story, but it’s… not?”

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” the Seeker quoted, which then led to a lengthy discussion of old-fashioned sayings and their origins, which then led to some very colourful stories by Jack (who had come along for that evening’s dinner to celebrate Josh’s first big commission) and the finer drawbacks of fame were lost.

But with their increased income they purchased a small ‘holiday cottage’ by the foot of the stripy mountains, for when they needed to get away and have some peace and quiet. The Moomin house was becoming something of a famous landmark, bordering on a tourist attraction, so a ‘quiet place in the country’ was deemed necessary.

22 April 2037

On his 32nd birthday the Seeker started work on his first genetic loom. There was an argument to be made that six years of study did not give him enough of a theoretical grounding (and many of the experts he was in touch with stressed this point, repeatedly), but he knew that computer models were woefully inadequate, and the need for physical experimentation was becoming increasingly imperative.

Besides which he’d done all of the terraforming and the flora in two years, so he had a great deal of confidence in his own abilities.

He had eaten breakfast with his parents in the garden and they had gifted him a beautiful folio of John Donne’s ‘Elegie upon the untimely death of the incomparable Prince Henry’.

“Your mother insisted that you like poetry, so I thought this would be nice,” his father observed as the Seeker looked over the neat binding, clearly still fresh from the printing press.

“I got him to sign it!” his father added, and the Seeker smiled. He really would need to create a proper library soon, rather than the handful of Billy bookcases that currently occupied the room set aside for this purpose. He did not want to follow in Roda’s disorganised footsteps.

“Thank you,” he replied, even as he wondered what message his father was trying to convey, when his father forestalled any speculation.

“I was going to give you a weapon as well, in case you feel like killing any princes, but then I remembered you already have one…”

The voice was light and the Seeker responded in kind, even as he suppressed a flinch at the memory of the laser screwdriver, safely locked away in Torchwood.

“Didn’t he die of smallpox? Not the kind of weapon I’d like to avail myself of if I’m honest.”

However he soon waved goodbye to the parental invasion and delved into his work with barely contained excitement. He’d delayed the start by a few weeks, simply so he could have it as a ‘birthday treat’. Of course he was well aware that he would come up against endless problems as theory met with practice and floundered, but that was half the fun.

He was deeply absorbed in work, not even stopping for lunch, until the middle of the afternoon when the Doctor, Jack, Roda, Matt, Josh and Jamie appeared shouting: “Surprise!” and bringing with them balloons and a big banner saying ‘Happy 30th’.

Irritated he glared at them: “I’m thirty-two. And I’m busy.”

But Josh waved away his protest with a flick of his wrist.

“Shut up you idiot workaholic. If you wanna run away and take two years ‘out’ on your own time, you need to accept that others won’t count those years. Come on, put on some glad rags instead of a lab coat, we have a whole party arranged!”

The party was at the little holiday cottage, where there were more decorations and cake and presents and a sound system blasting out music at a volume (and of a kind) that would be frowned upon by any Star Poet.

“This is nice and quiet,” Matt observed, looking out over the empty grasslands stretching as far as the eye could see; behind them stripy mountains reached up towards the pale green sky and turquoise winged creatures cleaved the air in the distance.

The Seeker shook his head.

“I can’t believe you call ‘Greatest Hits from the ‘70s’ quiet,” he muttered, to which Jack declared that as long as he was DJ no one was allowed to complain about the music.

Matt snorted. “I meant in terms of all the telepathy. Always gives me the creeps.”

Before the Seeker could respond, he was informed that it was present time.

The main present turned out to be very large and decidedly egg-shaped, with an enormous bow around the middle, and for one horrifying moment the Seeker worried that they had gotten him an actual dinosaur egg.

However it turned out to be a chair — not a IKEA knock-off egg chair, but one of the expensive designer ones. It was a genuinely striking piece; the outside was brilliant white and the inside was upholstered in TARDIS blue, the effect reminding him more of a geode than an egg.

“That’s… thank you. I think I love it.”

He looked up at the small assembly and then his eyes narrowed, honing in on Jack.

“Is this part of your project to get me more furniture?”

At this Josh burst out laughing.

“Darling, I’m the president of that club, Jack’s just the treasurer. Although he makes sure to bring me regular reports.”

The Seeker sighed, figuring that there was no point fighting it (much). And the chair would go very nicely.

However he made sure to spend the evening explaining to them all exactly what he was working on, as technically and as long-windedly he could, causing everyone’s eyes to glaze over.

It was a good birthday.

(It had been 2342 days since he had last violated his friends)

Chapter Text

2040 (three years later)
Arkateen V, Josh and Jamie’s Moomin house

It was all Matt’s fault. At least that’s what the Seeker tried to tell himself later, even if he knew it was far more complicated.

Matt’s visits were infrequent as he was busy with both work and a collection of leading roles for a number of charitable organisations, and Josh and Jamie for their part were both travelling across various local planets and solar systems as their careers were taking off in earnest.

Meaning that marrying up schedules was complicated, even if the Seeker always reminded them that he had time travel.

(“Time travel is grand, but we’re tired,” they’d reply. To which he’d mutter about time management under his breath.)

But tonight they were celebrating Jamie getting a big commission, which was as good an excuse as any to get Matt to take a little break.

And so the Seeker turned up with Matt and a very nice bottle of wine, pleased to finally have the whole gang back together.

However his token contribution was entirely overshadowed by Matt’s offering: He had brought not only Jaffa Cakes and Jammie Dodgers (always welcome), but also Parma Violets.

“Oh my G-d!” Jamie exclaimed. “Matthew Gregman, you are a legend! Josh, look! Parma Violets!”

“If you want something that tastes like soap, we have actual soap bars in the bathroom,” Josh replied, looking at the innocuous little purple sweets with a grimace, but Jamie was happily hugging Matt.

“Come visit more often, promise?”

“But only if I bring goodies, right?” he replied, and Jamie chuckled as sie helped hirself to the treasures in his hands. “I’m not saying no…”

The Seeker rolled his eyes and handed his bottle to Josh.

“Well this is for the meal.”

“Thank you, that will go very nicely,” Josh said, looking especially gorgeous in a white silk shirt, and the Seeker gave himself a mental kick as they made their way into the dining room.

Josh and Jamie had clearly decided to make an effort, with a table cloth and candles and the best china, and — although the Seeker wasn’t a fan of ‘fuss’ — he appreciated the result. As did Matt, who protested that they shouldn’t have done all this just for him.

“Presumptuous much?” Josh shot back, arching an eyebrow. “This is for Jamie I’ll have you know.”

“I stand corrected and humbled,” Matt snorted, as the Seeker commented that he wouldn’t mind an effort now and again, rather than leftovers on chipped plates in front of the telly.

“If you want to host dinners for us twice a week,” Jamie beamed (with a clear challenge in hir eyes), “you are more than welcome!”

The Seeker glared, but didn’t reply. There were Very Significant Reasons for why they never came to his place.

(He needed their routines to be embedded to a near-subconscious level; they should never see his planet as anything other than a novelty; they must not feel at home there. It was a mantra that he had been repeating to himself for almost ten years.)

Sensing that something was off, Matt smoothed over the tension by inquiring after Josh’s mother.

Josh rolled his eyes.

“Still disgustingly happy, and constantly nagging us about grandchildren.”

“No change there then,” Matt smiled as he took a seat at the table.

However as they began tucking in the Seeker found himself studying Jamie. Ever since hir Big Crisis almost 8 years ago he tried to make sure that sie was okay — he didn’t want another crisis to blindside him (or them), leaving them emotionally vulnerable and thus vulnerable to… other predicaments.

And right now, despite the bright blue hair and matching poncho (or was it a shawl? Or some third type of garment that he had never heard of), sie seemed… oddly subdued.

“This might just be me being clueless,” he said, “but you seemed happier about the sweets than about this commission.”

“I’m happy!” Jamie protested, but the Seeker wasn’t convinced.

“I’m not saying that you should be as ecstatic as Josh after getting his first proper job, when we couldn’t get him off the ceiling, but I was expecting a little more jollity… You’ve shut up all the nay-sayers by now, surely? Or are they still giving you grief?”

“Can you stop bringing that up, I just hadn’t figured out where the off-switch was on the anti-grav boots,” Josh muttered, but the Seeker ignored him.

Jamie kept poking at hir dinner and yes, sie was clearly stewing.

“Look I don’t know,” sie said eventually. “Ever since that song shot to fame we are getting plenty more commissions — both of us — more than we can really deal with. But how many really want… me? Want my talent specifically? How many just want ‘A composition by the famous half-alien’?”

The Seeker scratched his head, already regretting his question.

“I fail to see the problem? If I was you I’d take the biggest and most lucrative jobs to help raise your profile further. Fame doesn’t last without something to sustain it.”

Jamie threw up hir hands, frustrated.

“That’s not the point! I want to create art, not… corporate showcases.”

“Very well,” the Seeker replied, nonplussed. “Take the more artistic jobs. I guess either way you are working. You are literally doing what you always wanted, who cares about the why?”

“I do!” Jamie shot back, “I care! I want people to care about my music, not just wanting to jump on the latest ‘trend’. My music means something.”

Matt, clearly unsure about the sudden flare-up, looked discomfited.

“This is all getting a bit intense. Could I, um, have some more wine?”

“Certainly,” Josh replied, grabbing the bottle. “And look, this is… a long story, shall we say. Besides which our dear Seeker here just doesn’t have much of an understanding of the artistic mind.”

The Seeker did not like the patronising tone and glared at Josh.

“Maybe I don’t understand ‘the artistic mind’, but I know what I like and I know quality when I see it. Meaning that I know what I see when I look at you two — I know that you deserve for your work to reach across the whole galaxy and beyond. Which is why I wish you’d stop angsting about it and just go out there and be magnificent!”

Josh had become momentarily speechless, simply holding the bottle, unmoving.

Jamie however put a hand on hir chest and then looked across at Matt.

“And he says he’s not romantic!”

“Psshut up,” the Seeker mumbled, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

Matt however was shaking his head, in no way reassured. “You know, I think you’re all getting a bit peculiar living out here with all these aliens. I’ve never heard support for the arts described as ‘romantic’ before!”

Josh, rallying, carried on re-filling the wine glasses with a cheeky grin.

“You’re just jealous that he’s not feeling romantic about solving Earth problems.”

The Seeker blanched.

“Matt. I swear if the next words out of your words are ‘Fix the NHS’ I’m going to run back to my planet and lock it down for a century.”

Josh put the bottle down and immediately clamped a hand across Matt’s mouth.

“Matt, don’t you dare! Although we would be happy to hear you complain about work.”

Matt practically pouted as he moved Josh’s hand out of the way. “Idiots, all of you. And I don’t complain about work that much.”

“Sure you do,” Jamie rebutted. “Go on, what happened today? More stupid managers or budget cuts? Another entitled dick?”

Matt hesitated briefly, then gave in. “Fine, there was this pensioner who simply refused to believe anything I told her, because a ‘medical medium’ had told her that she should treat all her ailments with some kind of tree bark…”

He shook his head in exasperation.

“And the reason for her appointment was — drumroll please — scheduling her hip replacement surgery.”

Laughter followed and the meal continued happily until Matt uttered the fatal words that would go on to doom the evening.

“Did you see the news? Or are you all too busy with your own stuff out here in the wider universe — like angsting about art?”

He raised an eyebrow, and Jamie slapped his arm.

“What news?” the Seeker asked, not having any idea of Earth news except from what he picked up from his mother.

“Oh I can be the one to tell you then,” Matt said with a smile. “Allison had a baby.”

The Seeker froze, cutlery poised in the air above his plate, and he could sense how the emotional blow reverberated through him and then onto Josh and Jamie also.

“Ixnay on the Allisonay,” Josh muttered, and Matt looked at the Seeker with surprise.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise. I… thought you might like to know in case you wanted to send a present or something…”

The Seeker could feel ice in his stomach and heard Jamie whisper ‘Breathe’ at the back of his mind.

“That’s very thoughtful,” he managed to say, carefully arranging his face into some sort of acceptable expression. “But she asked me not to contact her.”

“Oh.” Matt looked troubled. “I know she was pretty broken up back when you first split up, but you both seemed pretty friendly at Graduation as far as I remember?”

He paused.

“That’ll be twelve years ago soon. Where does time go?”

“The question is when will you find someone?” Josh teased, with more than a hint of desperation, and Matt suddenly hesitated, colouring prettily.

“Oh my G-d!” Josh exclaimed, almost clapping as he grasped onto the new topic with alacrity. “It’s finally happened. Tell us alllll about her.”

(It was definitely a ‘her’. Matt had always been ‘the straight man’ in every way.)

And so the rest of the meal passed without further incident, although the Seeker couldn’t taste a thing and ate through sheer habit — the remainder of the evening vanishing without him engaging with anything.

Eventually Matt excused himself and headed for bed, after having been told in no uncertain terms that he was not allowed to help with the washing up — he had come straight off a 12 hour shift and very clearly needed to rest.

A little while later the Seeker wrenched himself out of the armchair he had parked himself in and got to his feet.

“I should be going too…”

(He didn’t want to go. He wanted to fall into the beautiful oblivion that his friends could offer. The same impulse that had sent him their way after the letter, the impulse he had fought after finding the coat, after the wedding. A bad, dangerous impulse, and he felt unbalanced and shaky and highly likely to make bad decisions. He needed to leave, and then get very drunk and tomorrow — or in a few days — he’d have found equilibrium again. He was far, far too needy right now. There were big flashing danger warnings in his head, screaming increasingly loudly.)

“Seeker-”

The Seeker closed his eyes against the concern in Josh’s brown eyes, the way the hazy moonlight filtered through the old-fashioned window panes and caressed his friend’s face…

Then he felt a hand grasping his own, and a palm against his cheek and gentle lips against his own.

‘We are here…’

For a second he tried to fight it, but an image of Allison inserted itself in his mind unbidden — Allison with a child, another man’s child (he shouldn’t resent ‘The Rebound’ but he did, endlessly); a child which was something he would never have given her, something wholly human, something anchoring her to Earth forever.

‘And we choose you, every time…’

The words unlocked the fatal memory, the one he tried to keep hidden away — the despair over Allison’s rejection and the solace that had for one night followed in the arms of his friends — and he felt himself giving way and falling into velvet-soft gratification, as fatal and final as the gravity of a black hole; yet consciously, deliberately, disabling the fail-safe.

Then felt Josh’s surrender, absolute, complete; the joy reverberating through him like a never-ending wave, a wave which in an instant reached their third integrant. And like the trill of a nightingale Jamie’s Song rang back, exultant and all-encompassing, as the Seeker stretched out his mind further, further…

He was so tired of hurting, of never reaching for the panacea at his fingertips; and with an internal sigh of pure, glorious, exquisite capitulation he opened the mental door that he pretended didn’t exist — the door behind which he knew every step he was going to take.

Step one: Move them both to his planet (sidebar: make sure to get a bigger bed); he had plenty of space in his house, more than enough for all their things, many times over. They wouldn’t get bored like his mother, they’d be living with him (not abandoned for weeks or months at a time) and even if he needed to go away they had each other.

Step two: Deal with the fallout. His uncle would probably try to intervene, but he’d known this might happen ever since the beginning, and furthermore he knew it was impossible to undo the connection. (The Seeker smiled darkly, deepening the kiss as he slowly began to undo the buttons on Josh’s shirt.) Jack… would blame himself, which was sad, but on the upside the Seeker would be happy — yes Jack would come round, once he saw how happy they were. Roda… he could simply avoid. And his parents would be thrilled, meaning that he would gain validation from a new place even as he lost it elsewhere.

Step three: Figure out a way to make the set-up more permanent somehow. Humans were painfully short-lived, but he wasn’t about to give up on this bliss now he had it for the sake of something as easily alterable as biology.

All was compliance and adulation; no arguments, no anxiety, no pain, and he drank it in like parched earth drinks rain. This was his — his beauty, his euphoria, his devotion. In return he opened his mind to them, enveloping them as if below golden wings.

(Jamie found hirself fixed on the sofa, marvelling at this magical new place where they found themselves. It was like sunlight shining into every molecule, every cell; brightness and joy illuminating the entire cosmos. It was looking at the sun and the sun looking back, drowning them in glorious light. Their connection had deepened over the years, and sie realised that sie could feel the touch of Josh’s hands on the Seeker’s back, the kisses he was trailing along the Seeker’s neck; even as sie could also sense the Seeker’s hands undoing the buttons on Josh’s shirt, the delicate brush of fingertips across Josh’s chest; and hir breath hitched even as sie modulated hir song… Sie was infinitely more skilful now, and carefully let the music slow down, like gentle drops of golden desire slowly pooling, the tide of passion rising in infinitesimal increments: they had all the time in the world, and all joy and satisfaction was theirs, forever.)

And then — a discordant exclamation.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Pulling himself back a fraction, the Seeker turned his head and saw Matt standing in the doorway. Good old dependable Matt (infuriating, badly-timed Matt), in a T-shirt and pyjama bottoms, like something out of a TV show. A part of the world that they had left behind.

Turning back to Josh, the Seeker saw that he was still enchanted, a beatific smile on his lips, and he hesitated (How can this be wrong when it feels so right? Let me have this, let me keep this, it’s mine, they belong to me) — except Matt’s eyes followed his, and his face darkened.

“Or should I say what the hell are you doing to them?”

Before the Seeker could respond Matt marched forwards and a second later his fist connected with the Seeker’s face, sending him sprawling.

(Even as he was falling he noted that this would make for a far better failsafe — less traumatic and more direct.)

Then there was pain and being sprawled on the floor, which was unpleasant on many levels.

Not quite trusting himself to stand he instead sat up, leaning against the wall and looking up at Matt. He could feel the connection to Josh and Jamie gradually stretching and coming undone, and all he wanted was to patch it up; wanted to weave it into a rope strong enough to withstand any intervention or intrusion (strong enough to hang himself) — desperately clinging to the mental bliss, like a drowning man clinging to a life raft as he feels himself go under.

Confession time.

“This — or rather, the possibility of this-” he flung out his hand to encompass Josh and Jamie, “-was why Allison broke up with me. And, presumably, why she won’t have any contact.”

He could see the distaste and disgust on Matt’s face, even as he felt the loss of the connection on a near-physical level. He knew Josh and Jamie felt the same, knew the moment it became too much for Josh.

The blank, enraptured look had gone from his eyes and, frustrated and upset, he stepped forwards and ineffectually pushed Matt away: “Why’d you have to spoil it?”

“Spoil it?” Matt asked, outraged. “What I saw was- was- Fuck, I can’t believe you never told me. You have been my best friends since we were four years old, and this-”

He took a shaky breath. “I deserved to know about this. This… mindfuck, or whatever it is.”

There was a pause as Josh simply ignored Matt and went to check on the Seeker, fussing over the bruise spreading across his jaw. Then Jamie spoke. Sie had not moved from where sie had been sitting on the sofa, but at hir words they all turned to hir.

“We did tell you. Way back, before Graduation. You didn’t take it well.”

“What do you mean?” Matt asked, beginning to go pale, and the Seeker shook his head:

“You mind-wiped him?”

Jamie bit hir lip, not quite meeting anyone’s eyes.

“He… freaked out. I couldn’t think of another solution…”

The Seeker shifted his attention from Jamie to Matt — who was now shaking his head in horror — and dryly observed:

“No wonder you’re so skittish around telepathy.”

“Skittish? Skittish? Jamie violated me— you’re all — oh god, I thought I knew you… But you’re just like your father after all!”

The Seeker sighed deeply and got to his feet, pushing down on the Allison-shaped-ache, the Josh-and-Jamie-can-take-all-the-pain-away-ache, the why-do-I-hurt-those-I-love-ache and looked Matt in the eyes:

“Yes and no. Come, sit down, and I’ll explain what happened.”

When the Seeker eventually fell into his bed many hours later, he spent a good while altering his failsafe, Matt’s outraged deep revulsion and punch a far superior deterrent.

Then, as he was trying to fall asleep, he reset the counter.

(It has been zero days since I last violated my friends.)

Allison had a baby.

He curled up, trying not to cry and knowing that he wouldn’t be able to sleep — that he’d end up getting blind drunk, yet again. (He could have been happy. They could all have been happy. The loss felt like a raw wound, like something had been ripped out of him by force, like a piece was now missing.)

Bother Matt.

One week later

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

The Seeker was curled up in the armchair, as hostile as a cornered cat, and Jamie wasn’t sure what to do. He’d turned up as usual, because their routines were iron-clad, but he very clearly wanted to be anywhere else. Last week hung over them, and sie was conscious that he might run away again. He’d promised not to, but…

Sie wondered how to tackle the issue, but then decided that there was no point in beating around the bush. Sie was good at bluntness, so sie might as well lean into it.

Josh was in the kitchen, so sie made sure to check in with him before starting.

‘I’m listening’, he replied, and sie momentarily wondered how people coped without telepathy. When they visited Earth it was like everyone was locked away in tiny individual pods. Had sie really lived liked that for twenty-eight years?

Right, focus. Tackle the issues. And maybe find a different way forward…

“Seeker, last week. We saw your plans, your… hopes. Couldn’t we… do both? Live with you, and have this. You’ll do your work in the day, we’ll do our work-”

He tilted his head and met hir eyes; unflinching, hard.

“And why do you think I’d let you?”

A beat, then he continued, voice musing. “It’s not even about ‘letting’. It’s all or nothing, I can’t ‘partly’ own you. What did you want then?”

“You…” sie replied slowly.

“There isn’t room for anything else. My mother… has little hobbies. Her gardening. Book clubs. The only thing she cares about is my father, and me. It rules everything. She has no purpose that’s not tied to us. Don’t get me wrong, she is happy. Like any woman who has tied her entire worth to a man and feels she got a good bargain. But we… are… more complicated.”

He took a breath, studied his hands for a long moment, and when he spoke again his voice was harsh with self-reproach.

“I’m as blinded as you. And I will suffer no rivals. If I claim you, you are mine, heart and mind, body and soul. And this time, as you know, it was… so much harder to let go. I worry that if I — we — fall again there’s no coming back. When I said that the path to turning into my father lies through you two I wasn’t indulging in hyperbole. I know every step I am going to take and there’s no room for what you want. You’ll simply want what I want, and you’ll be happy.”

He took a shaky breath, then reached out; taking hir hand and speaking slowly and carefully, his eyes dark and serious:

“My nightingale… You are painfully protective of your talent. And I would…” He momentarily pressed his lips together, “I would clip your wings and put you in a golden cage, to sing for me only. Because it stops me being in pain. And I need you to understand the price you would pay for that.”

Jamie swallowed, but couldn’t find any words. All those years ago on Wii Sports Resort they had made a choice because their Time Lord was desperate and despairing and they couldn’t think of another way forward.

The choice before them now was starker, more final somehow. What did they want: Golden, glorious bliss or creative freedom?

Although it was more than that… Sie felt Josh nodding as hir thoughts spiralled out: back then their future had consisted of vague hopes and dreams, but now they were living those hopes and dreams.

Sie looked around at the cosy sitting room, filled with eclectic furniture and items picked up from across the Arcan system and further afield in the galaxy, as well as more personal mementoes: The framed photos with hir Arkateenian family, the prize Josh had won for his final project when he graduated, the delicate spider web-like tapestry one of hir cousins had created, illustrating Jamie’s first major composition.

So the choice was this: Did they want their life or his life? The golden bliss called to hir, but… it was a lot to give up.

Sie glanced at his face, those innocuous features, the shuttered eyes. Had he planned it like this? Had he carefully crafted their life in order to facilitate this exact stark choice? To help them to not choose him?

Weighing up the evidence sie knew that yes, yes he had.

It was equal parts disturbing and touching, and sie felt sure that this was why Allison had run, why Matt freaked out.

But they were different.

‘It’s how he shows that he cares’, Josh observed and sie smiled.

Jamie seemed caught in thought, presumably weighing up their future and their choices.

But the Seeker was thinking about the past. He still remembered that first kiss, that first Song. So very long ago now, on a simple sofa in Cambridge. Probably the encounter that all the issues stemmed from — two kids playing with matches and setting the world ablaze.

And yet… he still found it impossible to regret. It was the most beautiful fire in the universe, and even if they never lit it again it had been worth it.

He saw hir smiling and, smiling gently in response, he kissed hir wrist.

(I love you, he thought. Both of you. More than words could ever say. I hope you know that.)

He wanted so much more, everything that had been wrenched out of his grasp only a week ago; the beauty and the endless creativity, all the artistry that could only flourish if he did not lay claim to it.

Jamie looked like sie was going to cry, wrapping his hand in both of hirs.

“And you keep saying you aren’t romantic…”

The Seeker abruptly withdrew his hand and got to his feet. He knew the danger signs entirely too well by now.

“I’m not. Emotions are my kryptonite. But I am… grateful, despite this whole mess I created, that this is the life we are having. That I could help to — to —” he hesitated again, wanting to make sure he formulated the sentiment correctly. “That I could help you to be in the right time and place for you to soar the way you deserve.”

He took a step back and almost walked into Josh.

“And we are grateful too,” Josh said softly; and his eyes were like velvet that the Seeker wanted to wrap himself in forever.

He looked from one to the other and shook his head.

“Right, enough of that. Dinner?”

“Yes, dinner is served,” Josh acquiesced and the Seeker, with more speed than necessary, made his way to the dining room.

That night, sitting under his plum tree and looking up at the night sky, he thought of Allison (ignore the baby!), of wishing to lay stars and galaxies at her feet. But these two — these two were conquering the stars on their own. As long as he didn’t stand in their way.

He rubbed his eyes, tired. The other was question was, would he ever see Matt again? Or had he lost yet another friend for good…

  (It had been seven days since he had last violated his friends.)

Chapter Text

2044 (Four years later)
Arcateen V

“I can’t believe this is actually happening…”

“You’re telling me?”

Josh grasped Jamie’s hand more tightly, looking out over the colourful crowd of Arcateenians mixed with countless visiting species gathered in the large plaza; the delicate pale green sky above, where the Official Choir of Star Poets was patiently waiting — as well as, at a far higher altitude, ubiquitous spaceships silently rising to the heavens; the fantastical and beautiful structures lining the square; the musical hum of the crowd; the building behind them…

The building behind them.

The reason for the crowd. The new ‘Music Hall’ whose opening everyone was gathered for. He kept calling it an Opera House, but Star Poets had no opera, their music was… other — and it was his.

His creation, from first sketch to final little detail adjusted that very morning. A cathedral paying homage to music; soaring, like an aria frozen in a moment in time. Its existence would be impossible in Earth’s heavier gravity but here it could unfold, rising upwards like an impossible wave reaching to the skies, the way a note could be held for what seemed like a glimpse of eternity.

It was unreal.

He wanted to take a hundred pictures and shove them under his old (human) boss’s nose and yell: ‘See?! See what I can achieve if someone actually gives me an opportunity?’

Which was petty as hell, but with the euphoria he was currently feeling he felt almost invincible. He had built other buildings across different planets, but this one was of a whole different magnitude.

This was his Taj Mahal, his legacy, his marvel. There might be others (who knew what the future held) but if he died tomorrow he would no longer feel like he hadn’t left a mark on the world.

Of course it wasn’t just himself who was now reaching new heights — the inaugural concert in the new Music Hall would include a performance of Jamie’s first major work.

Hir composition had gone through several stages, and had for a long time been called ‘A Search for Belonging’. In the end the title had become simply ‘Home’, with all the attendant connotations of that word.

It chronicled hir youth, unable to be hir true self, and hir subsequent discovery of hir father’s family and the kinship and blossoming that had followed. Interwoven into the main tale sie also told hir father’s story in as much as sie could.

Josh still recalled the evening when sie had laid out the major structure and themes, trying to demonstrate the different motifs and melodies.

Jack and the Seeker had been there and, when Jamie had finished, Jack had frowned.

“Look this may be a stupid question, but… isn’t it sort of the same as The Returned Child? Story-wise I mean.”

Jamie had sent him hir frostiest glare and replied that The Returned Child was essentially a pop song, this was a symphony!

“Thank you for taking one for the team,” the Seeker had muttered, and Josh had needed to cover his chuckle with a cough.

However he understood how much it meant to Jamie, how sie needed to tell hir own story, to make it hirs, to own it: Sie was tackling hir life, hir dual heritage, the discovery of a place to call home, and trying to express it all through music. Lree’s story served a contrast — the youth who had not been able to settle, searching for new horizons and never returning.

Josh had no idea how sie did it, but the ’symphony’ was simultaneously epic and intimate, spanning lightyears and yet containing the most gentle of themes. Although it did help to explain why he loved hir. It was like sie had finally allowed the world to see inside hir head.

He studied hir, the long hair dyed a beautiful lilac and decorated with strings of beads and glittery gemstones in complex and beautiful patterns, and once more admired the elegant and floaty silk robe. Sie looked ethereal and impossibly alien; like ‘the alien prince(ss)’ sie had dreamed of being ever since sie was young — a far cry from the nervous wreck of the night before, anxiety spiking at laying out hir inner self for all to see…

No, today sie was a vision of white and lilac and deep purples; a stunning contrast to his own golden suit (which was pretty spectacular, even if he said so himself).

If they could freeze time, now would be the perfect moment.

He knew what the Seeker would say to that sentiment, and easily found him in the crowd below, alongside Josh’s mother, Gorden, the Doctor, Roda, Jack, Szrii and host of ‘cousins’ — even River had shown up.

The only one missing was Matt. He had excused himself as his wife was due ‘any day now’, which was a perfectly valid and sensible reason for missing their big moment, but Josh still knew that the underlying issues might never be fixed. Today, however, he was beyond caring.

Focussing on the Seeker, Josh noted how he had taken care to dress up in a nice white shirt rather than just a T-shirt, and smiled. He himself wasn’t wearing a shirt at all, his chest bare under the golden jacket and displaying a simple gold necklace in the shape of a sun. Not very subtle for those in the know, but he wanted to acknowledge their benefactor, their patron, their eternal sunshine.

(Yes, they were bathed in light, orbiting a sun that was forever constant. A living miracle that made dreams and wishes come true in ways they had not been able to foresee. It felt like the universe was their oyster, untold possibilities everywhere…)

Forcing himself to look away from the Seeker (and waving to his mum, who was very clearly trying to catch his eye), he yet again noted how distinctly different the crowd was to a human crowd.

The Star Poets’ tall and willowy bodies were gently swaying in anticipation, the musical lilt of their speech making the very air sweeter.

Of course there were also handfuls of visitors from Arcateen IV whose slow droning articulation was thankfully kept to a minimum, but the multitude of ‘alien’ visitors continued to draw his attention.

There were multiple humanoid species of course, as well as weird and wonderful creatures of all kinds, some of which were familiar, others which were utterly unknown: Strange blue blobs with no discernible features; tall, oddly pointy individuals with triangular heads; robed figures that looked like they had escaped from a video game; and a big creature that looked like Sully from Monsters Inc, except its fur was yellow. Josh had a vague idea that the species had an aptitude for mathematics, but it was entirely possible that he was getting it mixed up with the plant next to it…

Similarly surveying the colourful multitudes Jamie murmured that it was just like the start of ‘The Left Hand of Darkness’.

Josh balked.

“Are you joking? That was the most boring thing I have ever read, I couldn’t get past page two.”

Jamie shook hir head. This was an old argument and one that would probably never be resolved.

“You are a literary ignoramus. That book is a masterpiece.”

“Sing it to me…” he shot back and Jamie turned to him — and for a moment the whole rest of the world stopped existing.

“I just might,” sie replied, voice low and intimate, and he felt a shiver of pure elation. It was an extraordinary day, but the night that followed might just be even better. And it was possible that he had just solved a long standing problem…

They didn’t argue much, but books cropped up regularly. Where Josh had always thrown himself at life with everything he could, Jamie had grown up as a recluse, living through books. Sie argued — annoyingly persistently — that since sie was now doing hir best to be social and interact with the world, Josh should in his turn read some of the books sie loved the most. But when? Life was busy, and how could any book compare to the wonder of the reality of their lives?

Back in the real world he heard Jamie mutter to hirself, clearly still stuck on the book…

“Hmmm, maybe I could write music about that story… Or parts of it. The tale of Genly Ai and Estraven crossing the ice, that could be amazing.”

Josh smiled at the far-away look in his beloved’s eyes, knowing sie was busy composing once more.

However the Minister for Music chose that moment for stepping onto the podium to deliver the short speech before the official opening.

There were old and hallowed traditions to be followed, the most important part of which was that the new building needed to be entirely empty and silent in preparation for The Song of the Opening. It was a ritual that went back hazy pre-history, and was a way to both bless and inaugurate the building. The singers would gather in a meticulous pattern, singing, and then fly into the building, filling the entire space with mellifluous beauty, and Josh loved it beyond reasoning. It felt right that there should be a touch of holiness to this, and it felt meaningful… In the way cutting a ribbon followed by bland applause could never hope for.

As the speech unfolded — lyrical, poetic and concise — it hit him again.

I can’t believe this is real.

It seemed like a dream. Surely it was too perfect to be true?

A few days later
The holiday cottage

Five days after the big day the three of them — Josh, Jamie and the Seeker — were sitting in the courtyard outside the little holiday cottage, the remains of their evening meal still on the table in front of them.

They had spent the day going for a trek up the rainbow mountains to admire the spectacular view, their outfits T-shirts and jogging bottoms and trainers; the very opposite of their fancy attires the week before.

The Light-Season had just begun and the plains below were flowering: everything as far as the eye could see was an endless sweeping carpet of fire-y orange; uninterrupted flowers rippling in the wind like an ocean and the air almost shimmering with the brightness of the light.

And in the middle of this sea of blossom stood the ‘cottage’: a gleaming white cube that looked like it had fallen down from space. Josh had (this once) been allowed to be as modernist as he liked, and days like this even Jamie would agree that Bauhaus had something going for it.

The Seeker had planned on flying straight there in his spaceship, but had been told in no uncertain terms that One Did Not Travel During Light-Season, Was He Mad? So he had parked up on Arcateen V and teleported across. (He had tried to protest that he distinctly remembered travelling during Light-Season before, back when they first arrived, leading Jamie to explain that it had indeed been frowned upon a great deal, but they had made an exception due to everyone being ‘off-worlders’. This was no longer the case!)

“Also,” Josh had added, as they rested on a ledge admiring the panorama, “you would have thrown off the aesthetics. Just imagine your big black crow of a ship in the middle of all those flowers…”

He shuddered in ‘artist’.

“Light-Season is…” he trailed off again. “I didn’t get it back when we first arrived. But it’s like this… re-set? It’s why they had the big unveiling just before. Everyone can experience the big new thing and then they go away and just mull it over and talk about it and process it, rather than rushing to do ‘immediate’ takes. It’s… brilliant. All of it.”

Jamie was smiling smugly, as the Seeker raised an eyebrow:

“Who are you and what have you done with Josh?”

Josh sniffed.

“With age comes wisdom.”

“You’re thirty-seven,” the Seeker replied drily, and Josh chuckled.

“The main issue was the trees to be honest. I like the break, I love the lack of traffic, I just can’t live in a tree for weeks.”

“No arguments from me,” the Seeker concurred. “Jamie?”

Jamie looked out over the view, the soft fragrant breeze playing with hir hair, and sie tilted hir head.

“I always loved Light-Season, but yes. I prefer our white box to a tree. ”

And now, relaxing after a good meal and tucking into a dessert of various fruits, legs aching satisfyingly following their walk, the Seeker was beginning to appreciate the concept of a break.

Dusk was falling, the soft evening sunlight giving the scene a dreamlike quality.

“Seeker…” Jamie said, trying to balance a spoon on hir finger. “It’s my birthday soon. Is it… possible to get a fire lizard? Are they a real thing?”

“Say what now?”

“Fire lizards. From Pern?”

The Seeker blinked. “No idea. Never heard of that planet.”

“No, it’s a book series…” A beat. “Which you’ve not read. Typical.”

The Seeker shook his head.

“Sorry, start again… what are you talking about?”

Jamie sighed.

“Right, the Pern books are sort of sci-fi and fantasy combined. There are dragons — which are huge — but also fire lizards which are only about ye big-” sie demonstrated, holding out hir hands, “they’re like miniature dragons and breathe fire. I wanted one so badly when I was growing up, you have no idea. And it’d be an awesome pet. And you had a Pteranodon, so…”

The Seeker was flummoxed. “Not a clue. Genuinely stumped.”

“Could you… make one?”

“Like — bioengineer one?”

“Yes? That’s how the dragons are created in the first place and you’re busy creating all these Gallifreyan animals anyway, right?”

The Seeker turned the request over in his head.

“Don’t ask for much, do you? And are you sure you want a fire-breathing pet? You keep talking about possible children — as does Josh’s mother — besides which your house is like, 90% books, which are pretty flammable, in case you hadn’t noticed. And Star Poets hate fire…”

Skimming straight past the question of children (which, fair enough, was one they needed to agree on between them) Jamie replied:

“We might not live here forever…”

The Seeker groaned.

“Not this conversation again — are you any closer to choosing somewhere to settle if you want to move?”

“There’s a whole universe, how-”

The Seeker held up a hand.

“Just a base. Somewhere where you could raise children if you want them, where half the city isn’t water. Somewhere to do business from.”

“You have a whole planet-” Josh said, as subtle as a brick, and the Seeker shook his head. This was the ironclad rule.

“No. And not just because you need somewhere central.”

“But anywhere can be central, with like… teleportation and stuff.”

The Seeker looked pained.

“Look, it’s the difference between an office in London and one in the Hebrides. Heck, you can set up shop properly right here on Arcateen V if you like, but you keep dragging your feet. You could get something more official than your Moomin house, or get an office in the capital…”

“Mum wants me to come back to Earth,” Josh mumbled. “And I did mean to recreate the Seven Ancient Wonders back home.”

“Then do that! Just stop being so indecisive.”

“Why can’t you just choose?”

The Seeker threw his hands in the air.

“For the millionth time: I’m not going to tell you how to live your lives. However, you’ve just got a double whammy of major accomplishments under your belts and you should strike while the iron is hot. Set up somewhere central. Then spam potential clients with your resumé and-”

Josh let his head flop down onto the table.

“Bloody… marketing. That’s what I hated about working back on Earth.”

“You don’t have to do it. Hire people who love it and who can research different markets and planets.”

“Why are you so boring?”

“I’m practical. And I thought I was the sun that your lives revolved around?”

“Boring admin is still boring, even in sunshine.”

The Seeker rolled his eyes and picked up a knife and a spiky fruit, about to start peeling it, when there was the tell-tale static of teleportation in front of them and they looked up, surprised.

There was no travel during Light-Season; but, more than that, there most certainly was no unannounced travel.

In front of them, three heavily armed figures appeared.

The leader — as old, scarred and battle-worn a humanoid character as could be found in all the galaxies — smirked and aimed his over-sized gun straight at Jamie. An eye-patch covered one eye and the armour looked battered and ill-fitting, with a multitude of weapons attached.

The other two were an Uvodni (its insectoid face leering as it hefted an equally large gun) and what the Seeker presumed was a Skullion. It had a mask like a welder’s and brown robes, but its short stature was clearly no hindrance to hefting a gun almost as large as its colleagues’.

“Well well well,” the leader sneered. “Lree’s offspring, or so I hear. You have ten seconds to tell us where he stashed the loot he stole, or I’ll do to you what he did to my right-hand man. Hint: we didn’t even have a body to bury. So c’mon kid. Ten. Nine. Eight-”

Chapter Text

[Cont]

Jamie and Josh were frozen.

The Seeker knew that the countdown was mostly just a ruse, a way to pretend that they had given their prey a chance — they clearly didn’t expect Jamie to know where their former partner had stashed their (no doubt) ill-gotten gains; but it did explain a lot about Lree’s story… Landing on Earth to hide out would have been a good plan for someone wanting to lay low, having double-crossed their partners.

However what this amounted to in this moment was dead friends. And there was no time to negotiate or to throw his weight around; these guys clearly couldn’t care less who they killed.

It was a split-second decision, but then the knife flew from his hand and embedded itself in the leader’s one remaining eye.

Using the momentary confusion to jump over the table, he grabbed the gun out of his hands before the guy had even hit the ground and pointed it at the other two.

(What would the Doctor do? Not this, he knew that much. But clearly this was what he did.)

Two against one, this was bad — he more sensed than saw the Uvodni raising its gun and shot before getting shot himself. He aimed for the leg but, when the shot hit, the Uvodni… disintegrated, leaving barely even dust in the air.

(Oh fuck, it was a disintegrator gun — “Hint: we didn’t even have a body to bury.” — he hadn’t realised…)

On the upside: right now that gave him the upper hand.

“Drop it,” he said to the Skullion, aiming the gun straight at its head which was somewhere around the Seeker’s midriff. It hesitated, and the Seeker’s eyes narrowed. Its gun looked to be of a different design, so perhaps not quite as deadly, which at that moment gave the Seeker the advantage.

“I’ve never killed anyone before today, but I have no qualms about making it three for three.”

He smiled coldly as his finger hovered on the trigger:

“You could say it’s in my blood.”

The Skullion dropped their weapon and the Seeker briefly inclined his head.

“Thank you. Now. Are there more of you?”

The other hesitated and the Seeker took a step forward, using his free hand to pull off the creature’s mask and staring down into the Skullion’s single large eye, round and fearful above its large wide nostrils.

“Tell me now — or I can haul you off to my dungeon?”

(His father’s words were ringing in his memory, and oh he hated it when his father was right:

‘You don’t have any enemies yet. But when you do, it’s best to be prepared.’)

But then he tilted his head, reappraising the situation: “Or… I could just dip into your mind and find the information I need?”

(His Xhinn teacher’s lesson was deeply embedded and immediately available: ‘Reach through, into their mind. Focus. Grasp their will — where the will folds, the body will follow. Don’t force it, find the weak spot. Just like the body has weak points, so does the mind. I will teach you every one.’)

“Look-” it squeezed out, and the Seeker jammed the gun into its neck.

“You were going. To kill. My friends. You have no concept of how angry I am right now. All that’s keeping you alive is the fact that you might know of a bigger threat that I need to eliminate first.”

His eyes narrowed as he brought up his free hand and laid it to the Skullion’s temple.

“So, let’s see what you have stored away…”

He was oddly reminded of when they had been abducted, the first time he had forced his mind on another — in hindsight a painfully clumsy effort, although it had been bluntly effective; he’d only been 16, less than half his current age.

His mental moves now were made with near surgical precision: freeze, incapacitate, gain control; and his objective crystal clear: Were there others? And did anyone else know that they were here?

The Skullion now immobilised, the Seeker dropped the gun and closed his eyes, laying both hands to the other’s temples, diving in properly. It was a little like skimming through an index file, searching for what he wanted to find and then simply following the link…

And…

Oh.

It all made sense. And damn, Jamie’s father had been even more of a bastard than expected. He was almost impressed with the sheer audacity.

Lree had not only betrayed his fellow bandits, but had also turned them over to the authorities in return for immunity and a reward. He had then (presumably) fetched their ill-gotten gains, before going to ground on Earth — whether by design or accident was anybody’s guess.

His mates had only recently been released and had soon come across a Star Poet performing ‘The Returned Child’. They had put two and two together, done a bit of reconnaissance, heard about the big musical unveiling and shown up for the premiere of Jamie’s symphony, which had confirmed that this was indeed their old partner’s child.

And now they were here for loot and/or revenge.

However they had counted on a musician and an architect, not a Time Lord. He smiled, and if his father could have seen him in that moment he would have been very pleased.

The rest of his fact-finding was swift and satisfactory. No other people involved, no back-up, just a spaceship parked in orbit.

His plan was immediate and simple.

Turning to Josh and Jamie, his words were terse commands.

“Josh, fetch a large jug of water. Jamie — come here.”

Jamie ran to his side and he shot hir a quick look. He could sense the shock that sie was still processing, and in response widened his internal mental control to encompass all three of them. He didn’t want either of them going to pieces, and this would seem a good use of their bond.

“Jamie, hands next to mine, copy me.”

Hir eyes widened as sie took on board what he was doing, and he smiled joylessly:

“Spent a year training with the Xhinn as I told you — I’m sure our friend here knows who they are, feel free to look them up. Exquisite mental control. Right, are you good?”

Sie nodded, but there was a hesitation. The Seeker caught the suppressed thought and tilted his head.

’Sure you can look up your father also. And yes that would be very unethical, but they were going to kill you, so in my opinion they have forfeited any ethical considerations. And you won’t ever get another chance that’s for sure.’

Jamie nodded, and — making sure that hir mental hold was as strong as it could be — he turned and found Josh already by his side, a jug of water in his hands.

“Oh excellent. Water burns them. Seemed a good idea to have a simple but effective deterrent in case it has any tricks up its sleeve. You don’t need to do anything — unless it moves of course.”

Leaving the two of them to keep the Skullion silent he turned to the dead leader, surveying the body critically. The blood was the main issue, but there was unlikely to ever be anyone asking questions, so a few blood stains on the ground would simply have to be washed out later.

He grasped the teleport on the leader’s wrist, but was stopped by Josh grabbing hold of his arm.

“Seeker! What’s happening? What are you doing?”

“Just clearing up,” he replied, making sure to enforce the mental control (a little like telling a dog to stay, although he was very careful not to share that mental image). “Don’t worry about it.”

But Josh looked worried. The Seeker sighed, even as he took hold of the dead body.

“Josh. Remember when we were abducted? This is like that, but no one’s saving us except for me. Trust me, everything is going to be fine.”

The next moment he was on the bridge of the spaceship, letting the dead weight of the body slump to the floor and doing a quick recce to make sure the ship really was as empty as he’d been led to believe — no AI, no prisoners, no nasty failsafes, no one stashed away in stasis. The shield was as strong as expected of a pirate vessel; it wouldn’t have been picked up by any scanners.

Satisfied he programmed the onboard computer, checked the time, and teleported back with his own teleport.

Letting Jamie undo the control he saw the Skullion sway on its short legs as it regained control of its body. The Seeker hefted the disintegrator gun once more and tilted his head.

“Well now. I can either just kill you — which is quick and easy — or let you join your boss on the ship and watch as you fly into the sun. I’d recommend the former.”

“Who are you?” the Skullion rasped, bewildered and terrified, and he looked back, coldly emotionless.

“I’m the Seeker, the last child of Gallifrey. And I get very angry when people try to hurt those I love. Choose.”

Moments later there was only dust blowing in the breeze.

The Seeker skipped back onto the ship, deposited the guns and the Scullion’s mask and activated the flight programme that would steer the ship into the sun — and was beside his friends again with barely enough time to breathe.

“I — I can’t believe that just happened,” Josh said. The entire thing had taken less than five minutes, all told.

“Same,” the Seeker said, studying the puddle of still-warm blood seeping into the ground. “Very much the same.”

A little later, far above them in the darkening green sky, there was a brief solar flare as a spaceship burned to nothing.

Kensington, London

Lucy only halted briefly as she saw her son in the armchair. He was a regular visitor, although not often from a linear perspective. This time he looked… young. And current. And very very still.

She almost hadn’t noticed him as she came into the sitting room, turning on the light due to the waning daylight and momentarily freezing as she became aware of the motionless jeans-clad figure curled up in one of the Queen Anne armchairs.

“Is dad here?” he asked with no preamble, and she shook her head. Saw him relax imperceptibly, and then — as he didn’t speak further — said:

“Let me fetch you a cup of tea darling, you look like you could do with one.”

“Thanks mum,” he said and she wondered what had happened. It wasn’t unhappiness like when Allison had left him…

No. Something else. Something different.

He took a moment to just savour the tea, holding the delicate china cup carefully, not speaking. She sat down across from him, waiting, hands folded in her lap.

Eventually he spoke: “When was the first time you killed someone?”

Ah, so that was it. No wonder he didn’t want his father here…

“During the year that never was,” she replied. “Some saboteurs had been captured. Your father… thought I should ‘join in the fun’.”

He turned the cup in his hands before looking up.

“What did it feel like?”

Her Master standing behind her, holding her close, his left arm around her middle, his right hand wrapped around hers, helping her aim. His voice in her ear, that low seductive murmur, and she knew he was getting turned on…

“That’s it, darling. A clean shot, minimum mess. Go on…”

She registered the disgust on the prisoner’s face and felt a strange combination of anger and pity.

He didn’t understand. Hadn’t seen what she had seen. Didn’t know what she knew.

How dare he judge her?

And yet, he’d never know…

How empty and meaningless his life.

She pulled the trigger with no hesitation.

“It felt like mercy.”

Alexander’s eyes, so like his father’s (except without the cruelty), disappeared into the distance.

“Yeah. I can see why that would make sense.”

Another pause, and she realised she’d have to push a little.

“Who did you kill, my darling?”

He studied the now empty tea cup as he kept turning it round in his hands.

“Criminals who were going to murder my friends. I don’t… I don’t feel bad? I think I ought to, but I don’t.”

Carefully he set the cup on the table and caught her eyes.

“I know — self defence and all that, but I still have this idea that I should feel something over taking a life. But nothing.”

He frowned.

“I’m not sure what I expected. Dad… relishes it, the Doctor angsts endlessly. Jack and Roda just seem to bottle it up and carry on.”

He paused, tapping the table in what might be an unconscious imitation of his father.

“Maybe it’s the Jungle Law that’s just imprinted on me. Or I’m just naturally more of a Friar Lawrence: “Tybalt would kill thee, But thou slewest Tybalt: there art thou happy.” The universe is better off with them dead, I’m sure of it. Remember— remember when those people from dad’s cult came to steal me? It felt a bit like that: I had to protect my friends, the way you protected me back then.”

She reached out to cup his cheek and he leaned into the touch, closing his eyes.

Then he carried on, voice barely above a whisper.

“Allison left me, and it still hurts… this deep ache that I don’t think will ever go away. Then I broke my friends, and every single time I look at them I feel guilty. And yet I killed people in cold blood and feel less than nothing. Except gladness that they’re gone.”

He brought up his own hand to cover hers and then opened his eyes:

“Mum — what am I?”

She looked at him, her beautiful, impossible son, and knew there was only one answer.

“Lucy darling, I’m home!”

For a fraction of a second the Seeker felt only blind panic. A very different panic to earlier in the day, and one that required a different solution.

Reaching out and touching his mother’s temples he flipped their entire conversation into a dark corner in her mind, between her monthly book club and her hair appointments, and sealed it away with the closest thing to an isomorphic passcode that he could create at a moment’s notice. His father walked in and out of his mother’s mind as if it were his own so he had been prepared for this situation, except not with only seconds to enact it.

However when his father walked in (sharp suit, sharp eyes) the scene was perfectly calm.

“Hello son.”

The smile was warm, but the Seeker could feel the curiosity and the interest that was directed at him as if a spotlight had appeared above his head. He was sure he’d come across something in one of Roda’s books about how Time Lords could control their bodies — right down to slowing their heart down so far they would appear dead — but it was yet another thing no one had taught him yet, and he knew that his father could probably read him like an open book. Not to the point of detecting the actual cause of the stress, but he would know that something was up. (His mind was a fortress, but his body was painfully traitorous.)

“Hi dad. Just stopped by to show mum how my work is coming along. I think I have managed a good blueprint for flubbles-”

“Lucy — go.”

She got up without a word and left, and the Seeker tried not to flinch. Remembered doing the self-same thing to Josh once, for the same reasons… It wasn’t the power as such, it was the ease. (“I can see why dad enjoys this kind of power.”) And he hated himself all over again.

Taking his mother’s vacated seat his father leaned back, mercurial eyes studying him.

“Now then son, what’s bothering you?”

Despite all his ‘grown-ups’ being centuries older, none of them made him feel young in the way his father did. Small and young and green; knew that this was what Roda meant when she called him ‘tot’ — that he was clever, but still a child. That he lacked the experience and wisdom that would only come with time. And right now he felt like prey faced with a predator, knew that if he told the truth the consequences could be catastrophic. His father was biding his time, waiting for him to grow up, but he was sure that if his father found out that he had taken a life (several lives, including a cold-blooded execution, and that he felt a white hot fury still), his father would use it for something… He didn’t know what, and that was almost more worrying than anything else. His father had committed atrocities and crimes that defied understanding, but the Seeker had never really been scared of him before. Not like he was now.

He took a deep breath — and with great care and precision threw his friends under the bus.

“My friends-”

“Your pets,” his father corrected, but the Seeker merely glared and repeated himself. He wanted to agree, to keep his father happy, but nothing would tip his father off more quickly that something was up.

“My friends want babies. Now Josh is a perfectly normal human, but Jamie is… complicated, biologically speaking. And neither of them can carry a pregnancy, which makes things both easier and more difficult. Although the actual IVF is not really the issue. I’ve been thinking…”

He hesitated and lifted his eyes to meet his father’s, and it helped that these were real thoughts.

“Jamie was a lucky accident, but I’m honestly not sure what exactly hir genetic make-up looks like. Or how it would behave five or ten or a hundred generations down the line. Sie is essentially a whole new species and if I’m going to do this — help a new species grow and develop — I think I ought to do it properly. Make sure that there are no flaws in the DNA, no hidden weaknesses, nothing that will become an issue down the line. Especially considering hir mother had Motor Neurone Disease.”

A beat, then he continued, swallowing against his nerves.

“Basically something along the lines of what you did for me.”

His father smirked, pleased and imperious:

“Bit ambitious for a school boy… but then, I must say it would be excellent from an educational point of view. And it will of course build on top of your current animal DNA research very nicely. Although I can see why you wouldn’t want to ask the Doctor for these particular lessons. Not that he minds playing God on the regular, but he gets terribly judgmental when anyone else has a go.”

‘I don’t want to play God’, the Seeker thought, ‘I just want to make sure my friends’ children are strong and healthy’. But he had accurately estimated how his father would view the situation, and it was certainly ethically thorny enough for him to have avoided bringing up the issue before.

Especially if he was right in his hunch that his father had used Roda as a test subject. (Oh fuck, he’d have to listen to his father reminisce about all the torture he had inflicted back then… he felt sick, but accepted that this was the price he would have to pay.)

“So.” His father sat forward, elbows on knees, fingertips against fingertips, and his smile was like sharp, bright teeth in the darkness.

“Here is the best way to start…”

The Seeker listened, feeling the weight and the complexity of the two-edged sword he had chosen to pick up.

His father’s help would be incredibly helpful — and into the bargain he might discover more about his own origins, how his father had modified him to erase any human ‘taint’ (in whichever horrific way that had been accomplished).

He could feel the ghost of eugenics breathing down his neck and tried not to shudder.

Additionally he would also have to be hyper vigilant to make sure his father wouldn’t mess around with anything. If he wasn’t careful, he’d end up with a slave race… He suppressed another shudder, even as his father suddenly threw a question at him.

“Your mother — what does she know?”

“I— I was asking her questions, but I didn’t know if the Doctor was with you, so I hid our conversation…”

“Good boy,” his father replied warmly, his smile now preening pride, and the Seeker knew for a fact that he had made the right decision.

(It had been 1511 days since he last violated his friends. And… he hesitated. Should he count how many people he had killed? Would it be macabre to have his very own little Fatality Index, or would it be a good way to keep himself in check?

He suddenly felt very tired.)

Chapter Text

Late evening, Seeker’s planet

Jamie couldn’t sleep.

Every time sie closed hir eyes, all sie could see was a nightmare vision, slowly counting down.

It didn’t matter that they were on the Seeker’s planet, that he’d said, “You are safe here. Stay… as long as you like,” with a look in his eyes that sie couldn’t even begin to describe, or that she’d witnessed their assailants turn to dust in front of hir eyes. Hir mind and body refused to relax.

After an hour of pointlessly tossing and turning sie got up and tip-toed away from Josh who was sprawled across 3/4 of the bed as usual. He mumbled, but didn’t stir.

Walking through the house it was quiet and dark, and sie ended up asking one of the droids if the Seeker was awake, as sie didn’t know how to find his room and also didn’t want to wake him if he was asleep.

“The Lord Seeker is in Laboratory Number 4,” the droid replied, which piqued hir interest and sie asked the droid to show hir the way.

The Seeker would occasionally talk about his projects to re-create Gallifreyan animals, but he tended to get technical and incomprehensible, and science had never been Jamie’s thing. Now, however, sie felt that it might be a nice distraction and, grabbing a blanket for protection against the elements, sie followed the directions out of the house and along a path lit up with solar powered lights; it could have felt like a fairy tale, except it was a windy, rainy night, meaning that any stars were hidden by clouds and it was too dark to see any of the natural wonders.

Arriving at the workshop in question, sie pushed the door open and was faced with a large white space filled with very science-y looking workstations and the Seeker himself in a white lab coat carefully arranging a lot of test tubes in front of some big shiny complicated-looking equipment.

Jamie felt discombobulated and dripping and very out of place.

A moment, then the Seeker looked up.

“Why are you here? I won’t need you until morning.”

Jamie felt like sie had walked in halfway through a conversation.

“What do you mean? Need me for what?”

“Samples.”

Wondering if sie had fallen asleep after all and was now dreaming, Jamie blinked slowly.

“What are you on about?”

The Seeker shook his head.

“Sorry. It’s about babies. You’re going to be the tricky one, what with obliterating your insides. The reproductive parts I mean.”

Jamie immediately felt hir hackles rise.

“I don’t see why you feel like you can judge my choices.”

He shrugged. “Not judging, just pointing out it’s inconvenient.”

“Wait-” Jamie’s mind caught up with what he’d said. “Babies?”

“You want them, yes?”

“I — well, I guess, but-”

“Look, I’m sorry but you don’t get a choice, it has to be now. My father-”

“Seeker! Stop.”

He actually did stop, looking puzzled. Jamie sighed deeply.

“I don’t know what has brought this on, but maybe we should talk about what happened today?”

There was an uncomfortable pause.

“Do you need to talk about it?” the Seeker shot back; and that was the question, wasn’t it?

Jamie hesitated, then spoke the question burning at the back of hir mind: “Was it my fault?”

At this the Seeker blinked, for once completely thrown. “Was what your fault?”

“That they found us? If I hadn’t wanted to find about my father, if that song hadn’t ‘gone viral’, if my big symphony hadn’t been all about me, if — if — It all comes back to me-”

“Stop.”

The Seeker pinched the bridge of his nose, looking pained. “That’s not how it works. Cause and effect are… not linear in that way, it’s more like… um… midrash. And more importantly you are not responsible for your father being a dick. Trust me, that is a pointless exercise. And I’m an expert on that specific topic.”

At that moment they were interrupted by Josh bursting through the doors. He had only thrown a shirt on, and was shivering from only wearing boxers and a now dripping wet shirt, looking at Jamie with accusation in his eyes:

“Where did you go?”

They looked at each other for a beat, then Jamie shook hir head.

“Well obviously I came here.”

“But — you left! I thought you’d just gone to the loo, but then you didn’t come back.”

“I thought you were asleep. And I-” Sie stopped. “I couldn’t.”

“Oh yes, I was sleeping like a baby, happily dreaming about getting executed!” Josh shot back hotly, at which point the Seeker intervened, tossing a lab coat at Josh with clear defeat.

“You’re making my floor all wet, and if you stay here you’ll just catch a cold. Come on, let’s go back to the house; it’s not like I’m going to get any work done with you two around.”

He herded them back to the house, then got them to dry off and wrapped them in fluffy dressing gowns before pressing a button somewhere which made a fire start in the sitting room fireplace.

Jamie wasn’t sure what to do at times like this when he turned into a frustrated mother, practically scolding them. It would be funny if sie wasn’t so preoccupied.

Getting them to take a seat on the large sofa in front of the fireplace and furnishing them with cups of tea, he then folded himself into the protective oval of the egg-pod chair, arms wrapped around his legs.

For a long moment they sat in silence; they could hear the rain outside driving against the windows and sank into reverie watching the flames in the large fireplace — it was as large as something out of a medieval castle and Jamie felt sure that if necessary it would be possible to roast a whole ox.

Not that this would fit well with the rest of the decor, the white walls of the darkened room providing a backdrop not unlike a modern art gallery, except the ‘art’ consisted of technical-looking topographical maps which were covering the walls, as well as the ominous Dune poster above the fireplace. The feeling was re-enforced by the lack of furniture — there were only a couple of cabinets, the sofa, a small table and the single egg chair in front of the fireplace, and the room felt eerily empty and unfinished, especially compared to their cosy, cluttered house back on Arcateen V.

“I suppose we should talk about what happened today… Yesterday… whatever.”

The Seeker’s words broke through Jamie’s mental wanderings, and sie looked across at him over Josh’s head which was leaning against hir shoulder. The Seeker (as usual, when needing to talk about emotions) looked like he wanted to be just about anywhere else, and Jamie forced hirself to take a step back mentally — both from the space they were in and also from the issues sie was battling. They were probably all in shock and whatnot, but the Seeker… the Seeker had been the one to deal with the attackers.

The scene flashed in front of Jamie’s eyes again, the cold precision of their Time Lord’s movements… It seemed almost impossible that it was the same person curled up in a protective ball, looking like a lost teenager despite being almost 40 years old.

Sie wasn’t sure how to broach the subject, beyond ‘are you okay’ which was inadequate on infinite levels.

But before sie could make up hir mind, Josh untangled himself and spoke, grasping Jamie’s hand as he did so:

“You said that you — you loved us.”

The Seeker opened his mouth, then hesitated.

“What are you talking about?”

“When you were talking to that… the one eyed creature-”

“A Skullion.”

“Yeah, that thing. You said something about getting angry when someone hurt ‘those you love’. You meant us.”

The Seeker looked like he had earlier on when Jamie had asked if it was all hir fault. A sort of offended confusion.

“Of course I love you! You must know that, surely?”

Josh swallowed painfully, his hold on Jamie’s hand tightening.

“But you have never said it. Fourteen years and you have never said it.”

The Seeker made a strange sort of noise, as if he was in pain or under duress.

“Because it terrifies me. It terrified Allison, once she understood who and what I am. They say that… that love is a psychopath. And that, unfortunately, appears entirely accurate for myself. I’d hoped not but… here we are.”

Jamie felt too tired for this. It seemed that every time one of them spoke the others were lost as to the meaning.

“Seeker… what are you on about?”

He tapped the side of the egg, a strange pattern that sie couldn’t follow.

“Did Josh tell you about the time he, Matt and I got abducted?”

“Yes,” they both replied.

“Remember what happened to those aliens?”

Jamie hesitated.

“Your father killed them. Shot them out of the sky.”

A nod.

“He did that because he loves me. And I understand why now. I want to protect you. I can’t risk anything happening, or allow any unaccounted for danger. I—”

He took a shaky breath.

“I love you. And for a moment I thought I was going to lose you and it scared me more than anything else in my life so far. I’d shoot any number of spaceships out of the sky. I love you and it terrifies me. It should terrify you too, except you… you know.”

He waved a hand, and Jamie felt hir expression harden.

“For fuck’s sake, not this again. Seeker, you are not your father!”

He smiled joylessly.

“Villains kill people. Heroes get people killed. I can see why my father chose villainy.”

It was Josh’s turn to explode, sitting up straight.

“He also kills people for fun, will you stop this!”

The Seeker sat forward, mirroring the angry exasperated stance:

“No I won’t stop! The point is, my father didn’t start out that way, and I could end up the same!”

A sudden silence as they all looked at each other and the Seeker’s eyes widened.

“Fuck,” he whispered, before burying his head in his hands. “I’m such a mess.”

Letting go of Jamie’s hand Josh got up and walked over to the egg chair, kneeling down in front of it and gently taking the Seeker’s hand.

“Maybe… talk to someone? Not us, but like — Jack?”

Jamie watched, sensing the inner turmoil and feeling hir heart beating as they waited.

“That’s not a bad idea,” the Seeker acquiesced after a moment.

He sighed deeply, then visibly pulled himself together; folding away the angst to focus on the two of them:

“But — what do you need? I was going to get you to talk. And I started to set up a new loom for making you babies. Partly because I had to lie to dad which is… a whole different issue that I’m not going to inflict on you, but also because time goes so quickly and I’m going to lose you…”

Anguished fear flashed across his face once more and Josh turned, catching Jamie’s eyes.

As Jamie realised what he was thinking, sie nodded.

“No more nightmares,” Josh said, looking back up at the Seeker.

He shook his head.

“I won’t mindwipe you.”

“Fine. Just make us… not care. Can you do that? We don’t want therapy or any of that rubbish. We just want to be able to sleep.”

The Seeker’s eyes narrowed as he considered their request.

“Yeah. I think I can do that. It’ll certainly be easier than the looms will be.”

“And I-” Jamie cut in, shifting uncomfortably on the sofa and feeling the emptiness of the room around them, before catching the Seeker’s eyes. Sie wanted hir books and hir colourful furniture and hir favourite snacks, wanted musical rain and a green sky, wanted the peace and contemplation of the Light-Season and the shared soft melodic hum of Star Poets all around…

“-I want to go home.”

For whatever reason, this seemed to be exactly the right thing to say, because sie saw a huge portion of the Seeker’s tenseness immediately shift and a small, happy smile materialise on his face; like the sun appearing on an overcast day.

“I can take you home,” he said, with quiet satisfaction. “Yes, I can do that as soon as you like.”

The next day, Torchwood

Jack’s phone vibrated and he sighed deeply, praying that it wasn’t one of the new recruits having gotten into yet another sticky situation. But looking at the screen he realised that it was a message from the Seeker and simply had time/space coordinates for his planet. There was no explanation.

He frowned, puzzled. It had been six days since the big premiere, and Light-Season would have started on Arcateen V (which meant nothing happening for weeks on end), so presumably the Seeker would just be at home working. If he wanted to hang out, he usually just sent a message asking if Jack was busy — co-ordinates meant that Something Had Happened. But what?

Checking with Roda to make sure she was good to cover in case of any emergencies, he left immediately and appeared in the Seeker’s courtyard moments later.

Looking around he couldn’t see the youngster, but then got another notification.

‘Tower.’

He wasn’t sure what the meaning of any of this might be and began to worry in earnest what he would find.

Walking through the house (he loved the big fancy doors and the giant hallway — why not be over the top?) he made his way to the centre and decided to transmat up, the stairs being narrow and endless, and appeared at the top of the tower ready for almost anything.

Except there was no heartsbreak or angst; the Seeker was eyeing him levelly, leaning with his back against a windowsill and wearing his usual jeans-and-T-shirt ensemble — nothing out of the ordinary in any way. The white circular room, with its white circular sofa in the middle (a few cushions added around the stubby central column) looked pristine and neat, like the rest of the house.

Also he wasn’t drunk, nor did he appear to be recovering from a hangover. (Jack knew his benders coping-mechanisms well, as well as how many days they could last.) If it hadn’t been for the nature of the message he would never have suspected anything was amiss.

However Jack was used to Time Lords and their facades, and knew the Seeker’s was far less developed than the Doctor’s or Roda’s. He’d just have to chip away a bit.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and the Seeker snorted.

“Not even close, what kind of question is that?”

Jack tried not to glower. “You asked me to come, so… I’m guessing something happened?”

He spread his hands in a gesture of ‘Are you going to tell me?’ and the Seeker fell silent before turning around and grasping the windowsill, studying the mountain ranges in the far distance. One of the suns was setting, casting spectacular golden luminosity across the walls, but the lad seemed oblivious to the natural beauty.

Then he took a deep breath and spoke:

“I killed someone. Well, three someones.”

He half-smiled at the view as Jack faltered, trying to work out how to respond.

“Don’t worry, I am neither riven with guilt, nor climbing on a megalomaniac horse. But I’m…” A small frown formed on his forehead. “I’m not good, if that makes sense. I worry that I’m not feeling more guilty. Or really guilty at all.”

Jack felt like saying that yes, he was worrying too, now. Quite a lot. What the hell had happened? He’d killed someone? Why? How? Where?

And why was he so calm?

The questions were appearing so fast the Jack wasn’t sure what to ask first, but then the Seeker turned to him once more, meeting his eyes:

“Do you remember the face of the first person you killed?”

Jack took a short, sharp breath, finally finding his voice.

“Yes. Yes I remember.”

The Seeker pulled a face.

“They say it imprints on you. And my one thought is that I wish mine wasn’t so ugly? Sure, he was a bad person, but I should be worried about… about how it affected me, y’know? That was my fear, remember?”

Jack nodded. The conversation was seared onto his memories; the drunken misery, the fatalism. He’d told the kid — so very very drunk — that he wasn’t a killer, to which the response had been: ‘I’m not a killer yet.’

“I always knew I’d have to kill one day,” the Seeker carried on, “the question was just when. And now I’m like… That’s it? What’s the big deal? Possibly I’m just damaged. Or I’ve seen too many dead people already. Not just Torchwood — that still hurts — but people dead, because of me.”

He pulled a hand through his hair then tilted his head, studying Jack.

Jack who for his part was trying to process the offhand, almost casual, way of this confession. What exactly had happened? What kind of ‘someones’ had the Seeker killed? Although he’d said something about ‘bad person’, so presumably he’d not accidentally landed his spaceship on top of a bunch of crippled, blind orphans…

Sinking into the sofa Jack exhaled slowly, fighting against the urge to leap to conclusions. I know you, kid, he thought. Despite your parentage you’re not a psychopath.

Eyes narrowing, he studied the ’tot’ as Roda was always referring to him.

Or… are you trying to tell yourself a story? he wondered. Or are you just in shock? You’re too young for this.

He felt suddenly old and tired, and knew that the situation cut to the heart of a whole host of painful issues in a way he had not been prepared for.

It also in many uncomfortable ways reminded him of his own fears, the pain he had wanted to spare his young friend — how to stay human when learning to kill far too young, and how to carry on dealing in death, day after day.

But, before delving into all of those issues he needed context.

“Right kid, tell me the whole story.”

The Seeker told the tale from beginning to end — the meal, the interruption, the self-defence/accident/execution…

He was leaning with his back against a windowsill, studying Jack who was sitting across from him. Jack hadn’t interrupted at any point, his handsome face and sharp blue eyes betraying no emotion, just concentration, for which the Seeker was grateful.

Finishing up, the Seeker added:

“I — I don’t know what to do with the fact that killing people in cold blood is the sort of person I am. It’s not a surprise, and it sure is useful to know this about myself, but I don’t- I don’t like it.”

He swallowed, trying to steady himself. Time to voice the big question:

“And how far is the leap from that to… whatever the hell my father is?”

He saw Jack’s eyes narrow as understanding dawned. And then a long moment of silence as he appeared to ponder everything. The Seeker waited patiently. He trusted Jack and was ready for whatever verdict was forthcoming.

Or so he had thought.

Because at the end of his deliberations Jack leaned back, folded his arms and proclaimed:

“You’re John Wick.”

The Seeker’s jaw dropped, then he threw an outraged hand to his mouth, stifling laughter.

“Jack! You did not!”

Jack shrugged, curbing a smile. “They were going to kill your pets, you wiped them out. Don’t sweat it.”

The Seeker bit his lip, remembering every instance of his father referring to Josh and Jamie as ‘pets’, and yet…

“I’m a terrible person. But that is so funny.”

“Funny because it’s true?” Jack countered, lifting an eyebrow and the Seeker laughed again, before impulsively stepping forward and throwing his arms around Jack.

“I needed that, thank you.”

“Anytime Seeker, you know that.”

A beat, then he added: “Speaking of the pets, how are they doing?”

“Oh they’re fine,” the Seeker replied, almost dismissively, as he took a seat next to Jack.

Noticing the somewhat disbelieving look on Jack’s face, he half-smiled.

“One of the… I hesitate to say ‘perks’, but one of the benefits of what I did to them means that I can… ameliorate stuff like this. I’ve messed them up enough as it is, I don’t want them to suffer any other detrimental repercussions if I can help it.”

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose.

“In English?”

A subtle eye roll, but the Seeker conceded the point.

“I asked them what they wanted, and they asked me to remove the trauma — not the memory itself, but the… possible PTSD and so on.”

“You can do that?” Jack asked, sceptical, but the Seeker waved a hand. “Oh yeah. I’m an expert in most mental manipulations. And there was a choice between traumatised friends or not-traumatised friends and who was I to deny them peace of mind. But mostly they — they wanted to go home. And I can’t-” he exhaled, “I can’t believe it worked.”

Jack had clearly lost the thread. This seemed a common theme for his conversations these last couple of days.

“What worked?”

“My plan. Way back at the beginning I refused to live with them or let them live here, or even visit except very very rarely, and now — thirteen, fourteen years down the line — that house is their home. I tried to train them, us, to live like that, so they would be less dependent. And had no idea if I was mad, but it worked.”

He sat forward, his face cupped in his hands for a long moment, before looking up again, staring out at the view.

“Cause fuck it, the attack scared me so badly that they could have asked to move in and I’d have said yes without even thinking about it. But they didn’t. They wanted to go home.”

Jack patted his back, reassuring, and the Seeker leaned back, allowing himself to sink into his friend, relishing the feeling of Jack’s impossibility and the knowledge that this was the one person he could never lose.

Even if his head was still going in circles.

He felt the scratchy fabric of the great-coat against his cheek and spoke again, knowing that he was rehashing something they had already covered, yet unable to silence his thoughts.

“But tell me… I know I already sort of asked, but… How far a leap from what I did, to dad shooting spaceships out of the sky? From where I’m sitting, it’s the same thing. Is that… good or bad?”

Jack went silent, then shook his head.

“Look Seeker, that’s probably the one thing he has done that I have never really blamed him for. We were all terrified that we had lost you and… If I’m honest, I might have done the same. I know that fear, it’s one of the worst things in the world. The problem comes when you start to inflict pain for the sake of it. And having been at the end of your father’s… ‘fun’… then you have a long way to go kid.”

The Seeker frowned and lapsed back into silence, mind ticking over. Turned the events over in his mind in the light of Jack’s input and analysis, and eventually reached a decision.

“So… I keep flashing back to the moment the gunmen appeared. I was so scared. And then so angry. And I think that… for the first time I think I really understand why the Doctor never carries weapons. Emotions are… dangerous in ways I never realised. Even if mine are not exactly what I expected, but that’s a separate issue.”

He sat up, half-turning and studying Jack.

“My point is — you were the one who taught me basic self-defence and weapons handling, which has come in very handy on occasion. But what saved us in the moment was circus skills. And I didn’t even recognise the fact that they had disintegrator guns—”

Jack interrupted, possibly feeling called out:

“They’re banned in most known galaxies. I didn’t teach you about them, because I didn’t think you were ever likely to come across them.”

The Seeker smiled joylessly.

“Well lucky me! However this all made it painfully obvious that I need… more. I’ve done a lot — and I mean a lot — of mental training over the past eighteen years, but I’m rather lacking when it comes to actual fighting.”

He got back on his feet, suddenly nervous. Walked to the window, tapped the windowsill and took a deep breath:

“Will — will you teach me?”

For a moment Jack simply stared at him, clearly trying to wrap his head around the request.

“Teach you to… kill?” he asked slowly. It was part of the basic training of his Torchwood people of course, but the Seeker knew that he still saw him as a kid. Not helped by how Roda was forever referring to him as ‘tot’.

The Seeker watched him levelly.

“Yes. And not just ‘point-and-shoot’, that part is easy; you taught me that in a few afternoons when I was what, twelve? The Doctor’s taught me fencing, and I’m sure Roda would teach me archery. What I need — what I’m asking for — is… warfare? Combat. Tactics. All that jazz.”

Seeing the still-stunned look on Jack’s face, he carried on, trying to somehow ameliorate the request.

“I should probably add that I don’t mean this instant. I’m not keen on a repeat experience any time soon, besides which I am currently busy with other major projects which will take… a number of years, shall we say. But I need to know. I can’t ask the Doctor or my father — obviously — and I suppose I could ask Roda, she seems to have a much more sensible attitude, but after what dad did to her? Not to mention whatever traumas I blundered into like a bull in a china shop that time she helped when I was a near-suicidal mess? On top of which there is the whole Time War trauma? Yeah, not a good idea. Besides, you’re a soldier and I like that mindset. I want something… organised and structured and broadly applicable.”

A beat as Jack was still silent, then the Seeker tilted his head:

“You can say no. Or tell me to ask again when I decide to actually pursue this, whenever that might be. I could join Torchwood for a bit maybe to get some hands-on experience? I guess I just want… training. Both the foot soldier kind and the officer kind.”

Jack pursed his lips, studying him in silence, before eventually shaking his head in defeat. He didn’t look happy, just resigned.

“Fine. I guess I’ll help. Presumably if I say no you’ll just go ask a Sontaran or something.”

At this the Seeker chuckled. “Probably. Although not a Sontaran, I need strategies that will work, not endless war. Dullest thing ever.”

Off Jack’s raised eyebrow he added: “Uncle made me memorise the whole of the Sontaran-Rutan war when I was six, to teach me about the futility of warfare.”

Jack’s eyebrows sailed to the top of his head.

“When you were six?”

The Seeker rolled his eyes.

“Oh this was when I threatened my cousin Geoffrey on Boxing Day, and he wanted me to understand where that sort of mindset leads. And he wasn’t wrong. I don’t want to be governed by emotions, I just… I just want rules that make sense.”

His words seemed to have inadvertently have tripped one of Jack’s internal wires. His eyes flashed and he got to his feet, his hands curling into fists:

“Listen to me carefully: War doesn’t make sense. It’s ugly and meaningless and full of loss. War is your friends dying in your arms. Most of the time there are no rules, just survival.”

The Seeker didn’t flinch. Who do you think I am? he wanted to ask. Remembered guns aimed at his friends and blind panic. Remembered entering Torchwood, dead bodies collapsed on the floor and discovering Ianto minutes from death. Remembered being abducted and desperately trying to find a way to escape before his father showed up and killed everyone in retaliation. Remembered (although blurry and ill-defined) his father introducing him to Roda, so battered and abused that she had been unable to stand.

He raised his chin, looked up into Jack’s steel-grey eyes:

“In which case I would rather know what I am getting in to and know how to deal with it, should it come my way.”

He swallowed, unable to dislodge yesterday’s events from his mind.

“If my friends had died because of my lack of preparation I would never have forgiven myself. My fears are… being helpless, being unprepared. Knowing that I could have done more, but failed. I—”

Jack interrupted, shaking his head and taking a deep breath.

“Hey, it’s fine. One day… One day when we are very drunk I’ll tell you the story of when my best friend and I ran away to join the army as teenagers.” A ghost of the usual smile: “We all have our regrets and our demons.”

Jack left (with a hug and a promise to catch up properly at some point), but the Seeker barely moved.

It had been good to offload parts of his thoughts, to know that Jack was in his corner and to benefit from his clear-eyed judgments. As always emotions were his enemy, never behaving as ‘expected’.

Although with a sample group of three, he didn’t have much to go by when it came to working out what was ‘normal’ for his species.

He remembered ‘wrong’ emotions being one of the things Allison would chide him for, balking at how he wouldn’t react how one ‘ought to’.

His mouth curled in a caustic smile.

Allison, what would you say if you could see me now? If you knew what kind of man I am? What would your reaction be if you saw me execute someone in cold blood?

He had to stop himself from snorting derisively. She would count all her lucky stars that she got out in time and no mistake. And — for the first time — he considered that maybe she had been right. That their relationship had been doomed for reasons other than all the obvious ones… He was discovering things about himself that he didn’t like, and that would undoubtedly have been a dealbreaker for her. Better to have left when she did than to have discovered this almost 20 years into a relationship.

That was as far as his thoughts had led him when his phone started ringing. Pulling it out he automatically checked it before answering — and then nearly dropped it in shock.

Frozen and unable to move he stared at Allison’s name as it flashed across the screen.

Eventually the call went to voicemail and her voice rang out in the tower, so familiar that he could almost reach out and touch it.

"Alex… Seeker… whatever you call yourself, please, I need you. It's my Emily, she-"

He went hot and cold and hot again as he listened to the full message, the pure despair and pleading in her voice as she told him about the accident her daughter had been in and the damage it had caused.

For several minutes after she had finished speaking he stayed frozen, not trusting his legs to work. The darkening radiance from the first sunset still played across the curved walls and he knew that if he turned he would see casual beauty unlike anything else in the universe.

But his mind was far away, in a hospital room with an unknown injured child and her mother — a woman he still loved so much that just hearing her voice made him feel winded; pain that felt so acute that he almost expected to see an actual injury if he looked down, blood soaking his shirt from where the old wound had been ripped open.

He would help (of course he would help…).

But…

But maybe not quite yet. After all, it had taken him a year just to pick up her letter, and every time he came into peripheral contact with her life he ended up drinking himself into a stupor. Not to mention that simply learning that the child existed had caused him to fall worse than ever before and almost bring his friends down with him.

(My swan, my dearest, my dream / My sun at dawn…)

He took a shaky breath, trying to get his hearts under control. Why couldn’t his emotions take a break now? Why did this cause him to stumble where murder didn’t?

Seeing her again in person would require… time. And that, at least, was something he had in abundance.

Chapter Text

2058
(14 years later, Seeker’s planet)

Roda wasn’t late. Indeed she was so precisely on time that the Seeker looked surprised. (She wasn’t sure whether to be touched or maddened by the fact that he had been waiting. Maybe a bit of both, as usual.) However, since they hadn’t seen each other in a good few years, being on time seemed the least she could do.

She occasionally asked the Doctor how the tot was doing, usually just receiving a careful (but reassuring): “Good. Very good, even.” Sometimes it would come with an anecdote, but rarely did they make sense; partly because she and the Doctor met up even less than occasionally.

Of course she visited Josh and Jamie fairly regularly and would sometimes bump into the Seeker there, but he had never been an over-sharer (except that one time, which she was in no rush to repeat, on principle). It had been many years since he’d finished studying in her library and had started on his practical work, so she really didn’t know how he was beyond ‘generally doing well apparently’. And honestly, she was looking forward to finding out.

However the results of his practical work turned out to be easy to see. She had landed by the solar workshop — as usual, and out of muscle memory more than anything else — and stepping out the world was… alive. Actually, properly, alive.

It had always looked right — the orange shade of the sky, the red of the grass, the colour of the silver leaves — accurate in every detail, like a painting. But now there was scent and sounds and life: indeed she had barely taken a single step before a bug collided with her face.

She pulled back sharply, waving a hand in front of her face as memories of early morning hikes up Mount Perdition and avoiding swarms of plungbolls came to mind — he hadn’t recreated them, had he? If he had, she’d have to find him a recipe for the deterrent spray… No. Not snowy enough here, thank Gallifrey.

And she was clearly making an amusing expression judging by the laughter that followed.

Looking up, she saw the Seeker stepping out from the doorway of the workshop where he had been leaning against the door frame, an easy smile on his face and still chuckling. Funny he’d known where I was going to land crossed her mind, but she supposed he’d probably noticed the habit too. He was still Mr Jeans-and-T-shirt, although today the T-shirt was black. The moss-green jacket she had definitely seen before, although it looked a bit frayed around the edges.

“Welcome back,” he said. “Sorry about the long break. I’ve been… busy.”

Roda nodded sympathetically. When her world had fallen apart, she’d spent half a regeneration on Sol-3 in Sherwood Forest. She couldn’t really understand distracting himself with studying, but the premise was the same.

“So I see,” she replied, studying the surroundings for other ‘updates’ and noting that the main building had gained a tall, slim tower, making it look properly finished.

“Thank you again,” he said. “Your library is a treasure trove, as were your TARDIS databanks — and the memories you shared.”

“I’m glad that– wait-” she stopped suddenly, distracted by a movement in the small thicket a short way off that made her lose her chain of thought. “Was that a flubble?”

“Probably,” he replied, and she raised her hands, not bothering to hide the wonder in her voice.

“How…”

“Oh, with enormous difficulty. And I’d made it even more difficult for myself because I was so impatient when I first created the planet. But then I was very young.”

“We’re circling back round to the flubbles later,” Roda announced, waving a hand with an excited twinkle in her eye. (It was… it was magical to be able to say that again, and to say it with her senses mobbed by memories of home. Because it had been forever.)

“But, how old are you now?” she asked, trying to gauge the mostly unchanged face. Time Lords’ tendency to spend practically forever looking like teens in their first regeneration was not helpful when it came to figure out ages.

“Fifty-three,” he replied, with a half-smile. “Does that still earn me ’tot’ status?”

“Hm…” Roda made a show of pretending to think harder about it than she was. “Mostly, yes.”

He snorted, and she was pleased that he seemed like he was back to his old self entirely. Time, it seemed, had healed even the loss that had seemed so insurmountable back then. (It would be a weight off both his shoulders, and Jack’s.)

“You look good,” she said, and meant it. “I’m glad that you managed to… recover.” Her nose wrinkled in thought. “If that’s the right word?”

“Thanks,” he replied. “And… yeah, that’s a pretty accurate description. Now, do you want to get straight back to the teaching — although that does come with a caveat — or would you like to catch up first? On the downside, a catch-up has fewer possibilities of getting covered in oil.”

The line was accompanied by a wink and she huffed a laugh, putting any concerns she had about the caveat on the back-burner for now. “Fine, catch-up.”

A short while later they were in his kitchen.

He’d had a pot of tea ready, as well as a large cup of very strong black coffee — he knew her well enough now to know she considered drinking tea a politeness, and much preferred coffee — and she found that the years had made a difference beyond just repairing his heartsbreak. He was notably less… young. More settled in himself, more — she hesitated to say ‘mature’ (because he’d always been too mature for his age, that hadn’t changed) — but mellow, maybe? Almost a sense of peace that she couldn’t remember seeing previously.

She tried to give voice to the observation without insulting him, and he nodded.

“You’re not wrong. ‘Age brings wisdom’ or something like that. Remember — and apologies for bringing it up — but remember our conversation when I was a sad blob on my friends’ sofa?”

She inclined her head, trying to conjure up the idea of what an actual sad blob would look like without it being too obvious. Oblivious, or politely ignoring her, he carried on.

“I said back then that I was a riddle.” She snorted. How true… “I have in the years since done a pretty decent job of unravelling a good chunk of it. Not entirely through choice, but life threw things at me and…” he shrugged. “Most important is the fact that I reckon that I’m fairly unlikely to turn into my father.”

There was a look on his face that Roda couldn’t quite read, but one that she could just about recognise. It said, amongst other things ‘it’s a very long story and not entirely the truth, but I don’t want to get into what I’m not telling you right now’. She was… more than happy to respect his privacy; both out of respect for him, and a more selfish desire not to delve too much into any topic revolving around the Master. That, and it was a vague emotion she could relate to without much effort.

Should I comfort him? Roda sat with his statement for a second or two, looking for the right words, or more accurately, the expected ones. The less strangely I reply, the less weird it’ll be, probably.

“Well that’s a relief,” she said, as dryly as she could, and he smiled a ghost of a smile over his teacup. Good. Correct response, then.

“It’s an inconvenient truth that some things you can only learn by going through them: Only by being tempted does one understand how strong the temptation is.”

Roda raised an eyebrow. “Is that a quote?”

He blinked.

“Of course it is. C.S. Lewis. If you’d read my PhD…” he caught himself.

Roda’s expression turned apologetic. She had read his PhD; but she’d be lying if she said she’d retained, well, most of it. Splitting hairs was pointless, though.

“Nevermind. The point is — here I am, all not-evil.”

The mirror to her eyebrow, the Seeker raised his cup in a mock-toast; but his eyes were calm and yet full of levity and she could feel something relax inside. The little voice that whispered ‘What if?’ and ‘He’s so much like his father!’ retreated a few steps. She (still) wasn’t sure what had happened (and was (still) content to let sleeping vortisaurs lie), but it was reassuring that he was practically joking about it.

“Congratulations!” she replied, and that made him smile again. It made her smile, too; managing to get two out of him in a row was apparently contagious.“It’s nice to see you happy,” she added… But oddly, this gave him pause.

“I don’t think I would have used that word,” he said slowly. “But…”

He sighed, half-sad, half-resigned, then spoke, voice soft. Roda leaned in to hear him better, head tipped to the side and one elbow resting on the table.

“What the hell,” the Seeker shrugged, “since you were there at my worst, I guess you deserve the story of how it got better.” She hummed encouragingly. “Like… not just how I managed to live with the loss — which is an ongoing process and probably always will be — but how I made peace with her choice.”

He then explained about Allison calling up after her daughter’s accident and all that followed, pointing to a picture on the noticeboard behind him of an adorable tot, with masses of curls and a cheeky grin that marked them out as quite the handful.

Roda looked at the picture, and then at the photo next to it, which was — as far as she could remember — a picture of Allison herself. She only had a very vague memory of seeing her at the graduation ceremony, now decades past, but the gown certainly looked Earth-university-like. Probably.

Her thoughts drifted, as she took in the photos, to her first love; Perigraphaltas. There had never been a chance to look him up, not in exile. Had there been a new love and a loomling or two in his life, too? Maybe it was a relief she’d never know the answer.

Waiting until she was done with her assessment, the Seeker continued.

“If we try to overlook the fact that it took me fourteen years to actually answer her call…” Roda made a faintly sympathetic noise. There were perks to being the only one of them with access to time travel, she imagined. “The point is that — she is happy. Her husband is a better man than I could ever be, and her daughter is an absolute delight. And I could never give her that. I guess I always saw her choice in the light of what she was giving up — not in the terms of what she was getting. All that ‘normal life stuff’ that the Doctor always goes on about and that I simply can’t provide. And she has that now.”

“Seeker…”

Off the look on her face, he smiled wryly.

“I said I wasn’t going to go evil like my father — I didn’t say anything about not having an outsize ego still…”

An obvious retort came to mind, but Roda knew when to keep her mouth shut. Still, the Seeker’s candidness would probably forever catch her a little off guard. Clearly feeling a little uncomfortable at her sharply raised eyebrow, the not-tot cleared his throat a little awkwardly then added:

“Anyway, the actual thing I wanted to discuss before we began arranging lessons is this: My mother is 80.”

He seemed to expect some sort of response. For a second Roda’s reactions ground to a halt; there had never been any love lost between her and Lucy Saxon. They didn’t like each other and never had, but compared to Roda’s feelings about the Seeker’s father it was more analogous to falling on different sides of political debate. Or maybe even an argument about what order to add things to a cup of tea.

Conscious that she had to say something, Roda made an erm-ah-well kind of noise and then settled on: “Happy birthday?”

The Seeker sighed.

“What that means is that she is getting old. And I was thinking of bringing her here. Letting her live out the rest of her life with me, rather than ending up in some sort of old people’s home. However I understand that this would probably be uncomfortable for you.”

Roda made a wobbling gesture with her hand. Was ‘uncomfortable’ the right word? By this point she couldn’t say she had that strong an opinion, but she could see where he was coming from.

“I mean — more her than me, more than likely?” She shrugged. “But it’s a big planet. I’m sure we can keep out of each other’s path.”

The Seeker nodded gratefully. “Exactly. Let me handle the details  — actually, hang on, let me get my Study Plan. I’ve updated it now I’ve finished the planet, but I haven’t locked Solar Engineering in yet, as I was wanting to check your availability.”

He fetched a tablet and showed her a huge colour-coded spreadsheet with different modules all marked up, and she felt her mind blanking out. Not so much from the thing itself — it was a very clear and concise plan of action — but the idea of creating something like it. She had a bulletin board at her desk, in Cardiff. It existed under duress, and comprised the entirety of her ‘planning’.

“How did you get to be like this?” she wondered out loud, laughing gently. “I’m sure at your age I was still hoping to skip classes, not creating my own insanely dense curriculum,” (that had been all Rassilon,) “or pondering my personal psychological make-up…”

A beat, as he mulled it over. “Or are you just going to say ‘Evil parents’?” she followed up.

She never discovered what his reply would have been, as at the next moment there was a sudden commotion and then the sound of many small stampeding feet.

“Uncle Seeker! Uncle Seeker! Guess where we have been?”

Josh and Jamie’s children burst through the door, looking like they had been drenched by a water cannon firing rainbows. The littlest one was simply bouncing from sheer excitement, the middle one was talking so fast it was difficult to catch any of it and the eldest was sending pictures telepathically; all three pairs of purple eyes fastened on the Seeker excitedly.

The Seeker was clearly immune to the whole thing, looking at them aghast as they dripped coloured liquid all over the floor, footprints stretching out into the hallway they had come down.

“Why are you here? Look at this mess you’ve made! Go get clean this instant! And where are your parents?”

At this point the children noticed Roda, and the baby ran to her excitedly as she opened her arms wide and gave them a big hug. She never would have imagined — way back when she had first knocked on the door in a rundown building in London — that she’d end up as quasi-family to a brace of precious tots.

“Aunty-Woda! Aunty-Woda! We-wented-to-a-pwace-wif-wainbow-wain-an’-twas-bwilliant-”

The Seeker sighed so deeply that Roda heard it over the combined commotion of the three kids — the smallest of whom swiftly got her full attention. She pressed her forehead gently to the little one’s, the way she remembered her father doing when she was little; not caring about the fact she’d now be rainbow, too. The giggle she got in return was more than adequate payment.

“Guess being covered in colours makes a change from oil,” the Seeker observed, before trying to herd the children into a bathroom, cursing his friends in Gallifreyan (so the children wouldn’t understand), but causing Roda to raise an eyebrow at him even as she picked up the wriggling toddler and tried to carry them into the nearest bathroom. She carried them under one arm, earning laughter and protests and Aunty-Woda-put-me-downs.
In the bathroom they found Josh and Jamie, similarly colourful and utterly unapologetic.

“You didn’t think to get clean before you stopped by — unannounced?” the Seeker asked, standing in the doorway and observing the ablutions.

“Your planet was on the way home, and the kids wanted to see the migration,” Josh countered, even as he was telepathically shouting at the middle one: ‘Stay still dammit, I am trying to clean your ears you little Mazikim!’

“That’s next week!” the Seeker retorted. “And it was going to be a surprise for Roda.”

Roda, busy wrestling with the youngest (who, due to constantly getting water in their mouth, had now switched to messy telepathy), laughed delightedly. “This was a much better surprise!” She couldn’t help but be curious, though, and stowed it away to question him later on, when the hubbub died down.

The Seeker held up his hands in defeat and walked off, shouting for Bob the Roomba to come and clean up.

Josh and Jamie related their adventures in more detail (Roda had heard about ‘The Rainbow Rain’ but never been), everyone was returned to adequate cleanliness and dry clothes, and the Seeker had drinks and waffles ready when they made their way back to the kitchen.

There was chatter about various daily life issues — Josh updating them on his work recreating the Ancient Wonders of Earth and Jamie grousing about the fact that hir adaptation of ‘The Very Hungry Caterpillar’ might end up as hir most popular work (Roda still thought it was a very peculiar idea for a story, but decided it was best not to say so; but it was, she supposed, a little like baby’s first regeneration?) — but after about a hour the young family left.

Roda leaned back in her chair, going over the events of the afternoon in her mind and pursing her lips. It was bittersweet, the calm. While she appreciated being able to hear herself think, she didn’t think she’d ever grow tired of seeing the kids.

“I might be mis-remembering,” she teased, “but I’m sure you once said something about not doing ‘domestic’.”

The Seeker shrugged.

“Eh, they’re basically family.” He waved a hand. “Like you.”

The chair wobbled dangerously and she sat forwards, conscious that crashing to the floor was probably not a good look. Roda tried to get her emotions under control, feeling her hearts racing in her chest. She swallowed, the emotions tingling all up and down somewhere in a dark corner that she never tried to examine too closely. Family? Did she dare? Did she even deserve it…?

“I’m family?” It came out almost as a whisper, and she cursed herself for the embarrassment.

He seemed surprised at the question.

“Course you are. You’re like… the cool, irreverent aunt with a lot of battle-scars?”

This took a moment to sink in, but then (unwilling to grapple with this immediately, or possibly ever) (of course she would. At length. Family…) she shot back:

“And who are you then?”

He took a moment to think on it, clearly taking the question seriously and softly tapping the table — for a brief moment she tensed up, but then realised that it was a complex rhythm, like a melody, not the father’s battle drums. A force of habit, she remembered. It was something he’d done during their lessons, but it had been so long that she’d forgotten about it. I’ll have to get used to it again. I can’t spend the rest of my lives jumping at the sound of fingers tapping.

Then he looked up:

“I would say that I am a seeker of knowledge, who has by now managed to gain a certain modicum of self-knowledge too.”

She quirked a smile. Of course it wasn’t a simple answer. But continuing to joke about it was easier than taking it apart and finding a catch — there had to be a catch.

“You left out ‘pompous’.”

He snorted, amused.

“Very well. In that case: a pompous, self-contained, human-tainted tot with an outsize ego and a brain the size of a planet.” Roda opened and shut her mouth, stifling a laugh when she realised there was no good comeback to that one. “Who is slowly learning how not to damage people and just be there for them.”

Slowly she shook her head, then held out her hand.

You haven’t damaged me, she hoped the extended hand said without words. And it was true. For years, she’d been worried that he would, whether he wanted to or not. She’d been half certain that eventually the Master would shine through. It had never been fair of her, but here and now that had been driven home in a way she could have never imagined.

The Master took, and took, and took. But ever since the Seeker had been born, Roda felt like she’d been given a gift that she’d taken too long to understand. Another Time Lord; hope for the last of Gallifrey; a student; a rude awakening about her own prejudices; and now, a family. The Seeker, Jack, Torchwood, Josh, Jamie, the little ones, and even the Doctor, when they could get along.

Maybe even the Master. Families had black sheep, she supposed.

But she knew where the Seeker’s concerns came from. Remembered all too well his ‘sad blob’ period, and the anguish that he’d gone through. But his presence in her life hadn’t broken her. In a way, she thought it was probably helping to fix a lifetime of pain…

“I would be more than happy to start our lessons again.”

He seemed surprised and taken aback, but then happily took her hand.

“I look forward to it.” Then he tilted his head, an odd look in his eyes that suddenly made her alert. “Now Josh and Jamie spoiled this… But if you come at the same time next week you’ll catch the migration of the singing fish.”

Roda hesitated for a second, and then narrowed her eyes in what she hoped was a decent impersonation of one of the Doctor’s finger-wagging moments.

“Are you trying to bribe me to be on time?”

The Seeker looked back, too innocent by far and immune to the look, she was sure.

“I have a lot of experience in creating good and useful habits.”

Roda hovered between being offended and laughing, and then (remembering Josh’s comment earlier on) laughed.

“You know what you are?” She snapped her fingers, chasing the right word. “A Mazikim.”

He grinned back, clearly pleased.

“Demon spawn of Lilith? That’s perfect, thank you! I’ll take it.”

Roda leaned back in her chair once more, shaking her head. The kid was deeply weird, but she was beginning to feel sure that he’d be alright.


Having said goodbye to Roda, the Seeker made his way into the house and began clearing up.

He was only interrupted once, when the Doctor rang to ask if he’d missed the migration.

The Seeker sighed deeply, reiterating the fact that it was next week and “you have a time machine!” And then as a back-up texted the space/time-coordinates.

A little later he got a message from Jack: ‘Drinks tonight?’

He hesitated a little, but then agreed. It was a lot of socialising in one day, but also he felt like celebrating. It had been four days since he had gone to see Allison, and he hadn’t drunk himself into a stupor. It hurt, yes, but for whatever reason — little Emily, or actually meeting Andrew, or just the fact of seeing Allison herself (a grown woman, settled in herself and living her life, rather than the young graduate with endless opportunities in front of her) — there had been a shift in his mind. Time had locked her in, the same way it had locked himself and Josh and Jamie. It hurt (and would always hurt), but he felt ready to let her go, in as much as he would ever be able to.

One thing remained, however.

Walking into the garden and taking a seat under his plum tree, he scrolled through the music collection on his phone, then picked out ‘Reach for the Stars’ by Andrew Starbeck.

He had never listened to it, knowing that Andrew had written it for Allison and feeling equal parts jealousy and resentment. But he was curious. Allison said that the music had been what won her over, so he felt he owed her an attempt to understand what she had found.

Thanks to Jamie he was a lot more musically literate now and, as he listened, he could readily unpick the story of the flute and the piano, set against a beautiful celestial theme. And as declarations of love went, he could easily grasp the impact. Andrew didn’t deserve her — but at least he knew it.

Letting the last notes ring out he looked up through the green leaves at the orange sky, feeling the silence settle once more, only interrupted by the sounds of nature.

‘Maybe we were never meant to be, my Allison, but I am glad you found happiness. And I will be… okay.’