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borrowedtimeandspace · 12 days

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The Act of Untying

AU: A Patient, and Time (Donna AU); aftermath of The Question, and a conclusion...?

Note: It's David Tennant's birthday! And once again I'm posting the last chapter of one of my stories... I promise I'm not doing this on purpose.

This chapter is designed to be the last one of A Patient, and Time. I almost guarantee I'll add bits and pieces here and there in the middle of the story, but no matter what, this is where it ends.

...Or is it?

~~~

Zepheera was everywhere and nowhere.

The bright blue light that consumed her was all around, and it sent her careening. Like someone had picked her up and tossed her at full strength, and it just kept going on and on without end.

Until it ended.

The ground found her immediately. Even once she landed on her face, everything continued to spin– though that was based on feeling more than sight. Zepheera's vision was blown out from the brightness that seemed to last an eternity and an instant all at once. She very nearly vomited from the motion sickness.

Cheap and nasty, the Doctor had always called time travel of this sort.

Wait…

That device… the temporal what-was-it? Edwin had been going on and on about it, and had it pointing at Zepheera just before…

Zepheera’s next breath was deep, like she'd just emerged from underwater. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear away the blue and take in the world around her.

Where was she? When was she??

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

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

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

Not ideal at all.

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

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

Very, very bad!

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

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

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

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

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

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

July 21st, 1889.

~~~

“Come on, come on!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The screwdriver clattered to the floor.

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

“No. No, no no no NO!”

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

“Stupid… stupid, stupid WHEEL!!”

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

And that was that.

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

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

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

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

Zepheera was gone. Lost somewhere in time and space.

~~~

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

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

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

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

She never saw or heard it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tentatively– even reluctantly– she backed out of the moonlight and disappeared into shadows.

#sfw gt #sfw g/t #angst #doctor who gt #doctor who g/t #g/t writing #gt writing #doctor who crossover #the borrowers crossover #the borrowers #borrowers crossover #borrower OC #Zepheera #A Patient and Time #APaT: a BTaS AU #giant tiny #giant #tiny

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borrowedtimeandspace · 13 days

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The Question

AU: A Patient, and Time (Donna AU); set some time after A Whole Lot of Precious Time

Note: Hope y'all enjoyed the comfort...

~~~

“No, no, it's not that I don't understand the threat, the Doctor insisted. “I get it; temporal displacement weapon, you point it at people so they do what you want or else they're, as it says on the tin, displaced in time. What boggles my mind is why you've added a wheel to it. Aren't fidget spinners a bit 'retro' for the 51st century?”

The terrible smirk on the face of the crisply suited man before the Doctor didn't falter even a hair. He continued to hold the deceptively dangerous device so casually in one hand, letting his thumb flick its shiny new wheel up and down at odd intervals. Not a thought was put into the action.

“Time… It's a funny thing, isn't it, Doctor? Suppose you'd know, the great and powerful Time Lord that you are. I should think you'd be more aware than anyone that in this day and age, temporal displacement is becoming a bit of an empty threat. What with vortex manipulators being a dime a dozen, it sort of takes the severity out of it. Just trace back the setting, or strong-arm the one with the weapon, and you'll find them eventually.”

It was all the Doctor could do to not roll his eyes at the man's monologuing. He'd prompted it, after all, and it was what he wanted. A distraction.

Alaric Edwin didn't have nearly half the planet under his thumb simply by having an odd, tricked-out relic in hand, after all. He'd come into political and social power by manipulating the populace with his network of tech worming into the vast majority of people's heads. A network powered by the master control at the far end of the room in which he and the Doctor now stood.

All eyes were on the two men, any hired (though to be frank, they were also enslaved) guns trained on the Doctor and awaiting the signal of their commander. Edwin, confident as ever, wasn't worried.

No one but the Doctor seemed at all aware of the tiny woman sneaking from shadow to shadow along the edges of the room.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Edwin's thumb flicked the wheel.

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

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

“Zepheera!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, big mistake.”

#doctor who gt #doctor who g/t #sfw gt #sfw g/t #g/t writing #gt writing #doctor who crossover #the borrowers #the borrowers crossover #borrowers crossover #borrower oc #Zepheera #A Patient and Time #APaT: a BTaS AU #giant tiny #giant #tiny

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borrowedtimeandspace · 16 days

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A Whole Lot of Precious Time

AU: A Patient, and Time (Donna AU); set right after Picking Up the Pieces

Note: Some emotional hurt/comfort, as a treat. Bit of a long one under the cut, couldn't find a good place to chop it. Some of the dialogue inspired by these hurt/comfort prompts.

~~~

It was unbearably quiet in the TARDIS for a very long time.

Zepheera was emotionally exhausted when they returned, and understandably so. Ever since the incident with the Time Beetle, it had all been non-stop. The stolen Earth, Davros and the Daleks, Rose and everyone all coming back, coming together and going their own ways… Losing Donna… It was a lot to process, to say the least. Even for the Doctor.

While she insisted on making her own way down the corridor toward the hidden ‘room’ she now occupied within the walls of the TARDIS, the Doctor stayed behind in the console room to set all the lights to dim. Having a simulated night cycle usually helped his companions get their sleep, and Zepheera was certainly in need of rest now.

And as the room around him slowly darkened, leaving the blue-green glow of the center column of the console as the main light source, the Doctor dropped heavily into the old seat alongside it.

He was still there hours later, staring into the shadows.

Every fiber of his being felt wrong without Donna on board the TARDIS. Zepheera was obviously taking it hard as well.

They had become an inseparable trio, a far cry from how things were when the Doctor first brought Zepheera aboard. She'd slowly come to trust the human and the Time Lord, opened up to them as individuals and truly came into her own as a member of the team. They weren't just travel companions who quite often banded together to save people across the universe. After everything they'd been through, they were equal peers and close-knit friends.

Donna was a load-bearing pillar in that dynamic. That much was clear now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Better?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It's not your fault.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For the first time in what felt like ages, a comfortable silence fell in the TARDIS.

#doctor who gt #hurt/comfort #doctor who g/t #giant tiny #the borrowers #borrowers crossover #doctor who crossover #giant #tiny #gt writing #A Patient and Time #APaT: a BTaS AU #borrower OC #zepheera

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borrowedtimeandspace · 2 months

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Picking Up the Pieces 2/3

1 | 2 [here] | 3

AU: A Patient, and Time (Donna AU)

~~~

Despite her determination to watch over Donna, Zepheera found it rather disquieting once she was alone. The silence was deafening, only barely broken by the human’s soft, sleepy breathing.

The sound brought back many memories in Zepheera. She and Donna had shared a room for a long time, before the borrower had recovered enough to find her own space in the TARDIS. She and Donna would talk for hours about anything on their minds, until one of them dropped off to sleep and the other followed. Given Zepheera's initial sleep issues, that first person asleep was most often Donna, so the sounds of her sleep were terribly familiar.

She was always full of life, from the moment Zepheera met her. It frightened the borrower at the start, but now its absence left her feeling so empty inside.

Before she could think better of it, Zepheera's feet were on the move. She marched right up to the edge of the nightstand and took the short leap to land on the purple pillowcase. She held her breath for a moment, on the lookout for any signs of movement in Donna.

Not a twitch.

This was an objectively bad move from a borrower’s standpoint. No cover, unsteady ground, and proximity to a human that could wake up at any moment. Zepheera didn't care.

Keeping her eye out for signs of movement, she carefully circled around the top of the pillow towards the opposite side, inching closer to Donna's face once it was in view. The weight of her head caused a slope, so Zepheera had to slow down to keep her balance as she approached Donna’s forehead.

She reached out a hand to touch her, but hesitated before making contact.

When the Doctor had taken Donna's memories, Zepheera had no clue what was going on. All the confusion and pain hit so strongly in that moment that she had a hard time remembering the few moments after Donna had passed out into the Doctor’s arms. Her raw throat told her plenty about all the screaming she'd apparently done, but the one sensation that she did recall was heat.

Donna’s forehead ended up leaning against the shoulder Zepheera had occupied at the time. Desperate to be close to her friend in a moment of visceral impulse, Zepheera's hands were pressed to it the moment it was in reach. Humans ran rather warm compared to borrowers; she'd grown used to their body heat, but that… That wasn't a normal temperature by any means. Zepheera just didn't care at the time because the despair in her heart overruled the fire under her hands.

With that memory returning, alongside the knowledge that this was likely the last contact Zepheera would ever make with her best friend, she took a deep breath and gently pressed her hand to the skin.

It was still warm, but nowhere near the fever Zepheera felt before. She let out a slow, shuddering breath that she didn't realize she'd been holding. She could be upset about it all she liked, but it became clear right then that the Doctor was right. That what he did was making her better.

That didn't make losing Donna hurt any less.

Zepheera lifted her other hand to join the first, using them to balance herself so she could lean in and place her much smaller forehead on Donna's. Her eyes squeezed shut in a failed attempt to will away her tears, and she shared a breath with her sleeping friend.

“Bye, Donna…”

She stayed there for an all-too-brief moment. Just after she'd brought herself to pull away, she felt the flesh beneath her fingers twitch. The eyebrows to her left were shifting, and the chest beyond heaved with a deeper breath than before.

Donna was waking up, and Zepheera needed to be scarce when she did!

Throwing caution to the wind, hoping the human was too out of it to truly notice, she pushed off of Donna's forehead with both hands and used that momentum to scramble back along the pillow. Donna’s brow furrowed, and a hand loomed overhead to absently rub her forehead as she gave a yawn. By then, Zepheera had slid over the side of the pillow and landed silently on the mattress, tucking herself out of sight behind it.

“Blimey…” she heard Donna mumble. Small movements that Zepheera couldn't see translated into tremors through the mattress under her feet. “What time is…?”

Zepheera dropped from a crouch to her hands and knees as the mattress heaved under her thanks to Donna sitting up properly to have a look around and down at herself. From her hiding spot, Zepheera could see Donna fish through her pockets to find her mobile, its screen glowing softly in the distance.

“Thirty-two??” Donna exclaimed, properly awake and full of all that energy once again. With a final lurch under Zepheera, she hopped out of bed and marched out of the room, eyes glued to her phone.

With the room completely still and truly silent, Zepheera had nothing left to distract her from the overwhelming dread that told her it was over.

Donna was gone, forever.

#angst #doctor who g/t #doctor who gt #doctor who crossover #the borrowers #the borrowers crossover #sfw gt #sfw g/t #borrower OC #Zepheera #A Patient and Time #APAT: a BTaS AU #giant #tiny #giant tiny

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borrowedtimeandspace · 2 months

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Picking Up the Pieces

1 | 2 | 3 [here]

AU: A Patient, and Time (Donna AU)

~~~

“Donna? I was just going.”

“Yeah. See ya.”

Such an absentminded goodbye from Donna sent something cold right to the Doctor's chest. After all they'd been through, very little would feel like a satisfactory farewell, but this…

And as he walked away, listening to her mundane phone chatter fade into the background, he reminded himself that he was lucky to get any sort of goodbye from Donna at all.

His remaining companion didn't even have that luxury.

When he poked his head back in the bedroom and took a quick glance around, he didn't see Zepheera right away. That was to be expected, as she was meant to hide. So he gently called out, “Zepheera?” and waited for a response.

None came, at least not directly. If he hadn't lived with someone so small for so long, he might have missed the quiet sound of sniffling. And it wasn't coming from the nightstand.

The Doctor approached the bed with measured steps, and he hesitated only a breath before leaning down to gently pull back one side of the pillow. Having long since sensed his movement, Zepheera was just pushing herself up to stand as she scrubbed at her cheeks. It took her a few ineffective steadying breaths before she brought herself to lift her chin and lock eyes with the Doctor.

He felt the slightest bit of his resolve to stay strong for everyone here crumble away. Those tiny violet eyes were no longer full of the anger towards him that they had when he left the room. Without it, all that was left was the hurt that the Doctor knew he shared with her.

With one hand holding back part of the pillow, he lowered the other to lay palm-up next to Zepheera. She stepped up onto it stiffly, shoulders squared and chin held high. The Doctor recognized it as her attempt to put up a front the way he was, as she remained motionless while the Doctor's fingers curled into a living railing beside her.

Her hastily built walls shattered once the Doctor lifted her away and drew her in towards himself. Despite moving slowly and smoothly, he felt her weight shift and her usually impeccable balance waver in his hand, and he froze. He watched her knees give out from underneath her as she collapsed in a heap at the base of his fingers. She leaned as heavily as her slight frame would allow against the lower segments of two of his fingers, and the Doctor felt more than saw her tiny hands clinging to one of them as she shook with barely restrained sobs.

A tightness in his chest made the Doctor aware of the breath he'd been holding, and he forced himself to give one long inhale and exhale. Still, he couldn't bring himself to break. Zepheera needed him.

So he carefully lifted his free hand to curl its fingers around Zepheera's back, gently resting on it in case she rejected the gesture. She didn't, and any remaining weight she carried leaned into their touch. With that acceptance, the Doctor let his fingers reach further, all but surrounding the borrower in his hands as he drew them into his chest.

It wasn't exactly a hug, but it was the closest they could come to one in that moment. Though the Doctor couldn't do the same for himself, he let Zepheera grieve and work through the emotions he kept inside.

“Doctor?”

Wilfred’s gentle voice, filled with concern, drew the Doctor's attention. Seeing the state the Time Lord was in, he glanced between his hollow gaze and the curled hands he held close.

“I'll walk you out,” offered Wilf, wishing he didn't have to.

The Doctor nodded, finally dragging his feet to move out of Donna's room. Out of her house. Out of her life. For the last time.

At least he wasn't alone.

#angst #doctor who gt #doctor who g/t #doctor who crossover #the borrowers #the borrowers crossover #sfw gt #sfw g/t #borrower OC #Zepheera #A Patient and Time #APAT: a BTaS AU #giant #tiny #giant tiny

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borrowedtimeandspace · 7 days

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Introducing: The Donna Trilogy

In which the Doctor and Donna Noble rescue and befriend a borrower named Zepheera, who joins them in their journey through time and space. These are the stories of their adventures, their hardships and victories, of their bonds of friendship that can heal the deepest of their wounds, and inflict even deeper ones in equal measure.

Part I - A Patient, and Time

Part II - If I Could Turn Back Time

Part III - ?

Notes (and a few story/Doctor Who spoilers) under the cut:

Recent Doctor Who developments really inspired me to expand this AU beyond angsty and fluffy shenanigans. But I knew that if I wanted to incorporate them, I'd have to tackle some of the hardest moments of the Doctor and Donna's journey, and be creative about what direction I took Zepheera's.

I am still catching up to the show, but I have seen enough snippets of the specials in question for me to very basically shape how this story is going to go. And it only makes me all the more excited to catch up properly and finally have free reign to let this story grow.

Unrelated fun fact: I was especially excited by the concept of turning this into a trilogy because of how this series is structured on Ao3! It's so dorky, but before this, I had them in such an order that my Ninth Doctor AU could end up as the ninth entry in the series. I also have a Twelfth Doctor AU, but at the time I only had ten entries so it ended up dead last. But now that I have (what will eventually become) two more entries to slot in? I can finally stick them before the Twelve AU to make it the twelfth entry! idk, it scratches an itch in my brain that I find incredibly satisfying to think about xD

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borrowedtimeandspace · 2 months

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December Without Roses

AU: A Patient, and Time (Donna AU)

Note: "God gave us our memories so that we might have roses in December." ~J.M. Barrie

~~~

“I thought we'd try the planet Felspoon,” Donna– or rather, the Doctor-Donna– mused to the tiny woman on her shoulder.

“Felspoon?” Zepheera echoed, amused by the odd syllables. More than that, it was still strange to hear Donna speak this way. Since the Metacrisis, she could hear inflections that were very much like the Doctor. They truly had combined in her.

“Yeah, Felspoon! Good name, isn't it?” Donna grinned as widely as Zepheera had ever seen as she slowly circled the console, manipulating the controls as she went. “Apparently, they've got mountains that sway in the breeze. Mountains that move! Can you imagine?”

“Oh, I can, easily! I mean, I live with you two, don't I?” Zepheera chuckled with a glance at the Doctor.

The mirth died on her lips when she saw him leaning gloomily against a pillar to the side. It dawned on her that he'd been perfectly silent since they'd returned to the TARDIS.

“Donna,” he said, just above a whisper. “She doesn't understand. It's not fair.”

Something went cold in Zepheera. His expression gave away nothing that he was thinking, and something about his voice, his eyes…not cold, but… Zepheera couldn't put her finger on it.

Turning to look up at Donna, she also noticed that she hadn't met the Doctor’s gaze even when he called her name. “What's he talking about?” she asked Donna.

Donna shot her a glance and a smirk that Zepheera might not have thought was forced, if not for the sudden shift in the air. “Oh, y'know. Now that I've got Spaceman’s brain, he's not the only one who can fly us to Felspoon and back! ‘Cause anything he can do, I can! And you know, he's always running around the place in flight, but juuuust a tweak here and there could make flying this ol’ girl a breeze-breeze-breeze-breeze–”

Zepheera bristled to hear Donna start to repeat herself, like a skipping record. It seemed out of her own control, and the borrower turned a frantic gaze toward the Doctor.

He looked the same as before, only a slight furrow in his brow and a shift in his weight taking him from leaning to standing. He wasn't surprised, he couldn't even bring himself to look concerned.

Donna was still– Zepheera didn't have a better word for it but glitching– so she whirled back and gave a good handful of her red hair a firm tug. “Donna!”

“I'm fine!”

With that insistence and another overly-cheery smile, Donna continued to fuss with the controls. Zepheera had to crouch and cling to the lock of hair still in her hand to keep upright. It occurred to her that Donna was putting more and more of the console between herself and the Doctor as he slowly stepped closer.

“Nah, never mind Felspoon. Y'know who I'd like to meet? Cole Porter. Zepheera! We were just talking about Cole Porter the other day, weren't we? What’dya say? How's about meeting Cole Porter? Cole Porter, Jane Porter, Harry Potter- no, they're fiction- friction- fiction- fixing- mixing- rickston- Brixton–!”

A sharp gasp cut through Donna’s mile-a-minute meltdown, and she convulsed until she was bent in half over the console, leaning on it for support. Zepheera, stunned by her friend being in clear distress, didn't see the movement coming. Her grip on Donna’s hair had gone slack, leaving her with nothing to catch her fall when her boots slipped on the slick material of Donna’s jacket.

Next thing Zepheera knew, she'd landed in a heap. Not on the cold, unforgiving console, but an outstretched palm. Looking up, she was surrounded by the curtain of Donna's red hair, her pained breaths kicking up Zepheera's own messy bob in the gusts. Fingers curled over her head, just enough to brace her through the movement of being pulled away from Donna. She found her gaze meeting the Doctor's when they unfurled.

Just like always, he'd rushed in to help when she needed it.

“Tell me what's happening,” Zepheera demanded, her voice tight with concern.

A hint of emotion flashed in his eyes, a fraction of a second of pain. Then he gave a long blink, and it was gone.

“There's never been a human-Time Lord Metacrisis before now,” he explained evenly. He cut his eyes to Donna, who'd just begun to recover from the last overload. “Tell her why.”

Donna gave a sigh, then faced Zepheera and the Doctor by extension. She met his gaze briefly before letting it drop to Zepheera's. “Because there can't be.”

Zepheera frowned, trying her best to put together what it all meant as she looked between her friends. “I…I don't…”

“The part of me inside her is burning her alive,” the Doctor clarified, maintaining that level tone. Zepheera's eyes shot wide open, mouth agape as Donna pointedly averted her gaze once again. “It's going to kill her if she stays as she is.”

“Well, you can stop it, right?” Zepheera asked desperately. Her eyes had already begun to well up at the thought of losing one of the closest friends she'd ever made in over a century and a half. “I mean there's- there's gotta be a way to fix it!”

Once again, Zepheera caught sight of a hint of sadness in those brown eyes before it was pushed down. After a deep breath, he simply said, “There is.”

It should have been happy news. But it wasn't.

The Doctor's hand moved Zepheera away from that gaze and towards his shoulder. A numbness set in, her mind swirling and setting her body to automatically slide off of his palm and sit heavily next to his collar.

She knew what that look meant. Understood why it was so scary to see, after all the freaky things Zepheera had seen and experienced in their travels. The Doctor was hopeful to the point of stubbornness, always looking for a way out, a way to win, a way to save as many as he could. He never gave up on anything or anyone.

Seeing complete and total resignation in him tightened Zepheera's chest and made her breaths come quick and shallow. No amount of grounding exercises could bring her down from the overwhelming dread that whatever happened, they were about to lose Donna for good.

Something jostled the Doctor’s shoulder, and Zepheera became aware of the vice grip she had on the fabric of his collar. Her vision began to clear as she looked out from her perch and found the Doctor’s hands outstretched, holding Donna in place. She in turn clung to his forearms, and Zepheera's heart broke as her words finally made it through the fog in her head.

Donna was begging.

“Please don't make me go back!”

“Donna…” the Doctor murmured. Zepheera felt the vibrations of his voice through her tingling fingers, and she yanked them back as though she'd been burned. “Oh, Donna Noble, I am so sorry. But we had the best of times.”

Blinking through tears that had long since begun to flow, Zepheera finally brought herself to look up. Donna's expression was completely shattered, tears of her own falling as her head began to hang. She paused when her gaze fell on the borrower, and somehow she looked even more devastated.

“The best,” the Doctor breathed.

That drew Donna's eyes back up to meet his, and Zepheera felt the loss of their gaze like a physical sensation. Like a warm blanket removed in the cold. “Wait…” she uttered.

The Doctor whispered “Goodbye,” and his hands lifted from Donna’s shoulders. She once again began begging as his fingertips settled on her temples.

“Stop it!” The cry escaped Zepheera in a flurry of raw emotion. Logic and reason did her no good when no one would explain to her what was happening, so her most basic impulses won out. She found herself on her feet and throwing herself into the Doctor’s neck as though it would do anything to hinder him. The Doctor’s eyes remained closed, barely even a twitch.

With a final “No!” from Donna, whatever the Doctor had done took its final effect. Zepheera watched all energy drop from the woman as she fell forward into the Doctor’s arms.

“Donna!!” Zepheera shrieked, but it was too late. And she was too little to do anything about it.

#angst #doctor who gt #doctor who g/t #doctor who crossover #the borrowers #the borrowers crossover #sfw g/t #sfw gt #borrower oc #Zepheera #A Patient and Time #APAT: a BTaS AU #giant #tiny #giant tiny

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borrowedtimeandspace · 4 months

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Master of Her Fate

AU: Borrowed Time (and Space)

Note: This is my first shot at writing the Master! The last couple months have been stressful, and it all sort of came out in this. So have a little mild fearplay, as a treat

~~~

Zepheera’s stomach lurched its way up to her throat, choking off the startled shriek that tried to escape her as her world flipped on its head.

The motion didn't stop there, and she struggled to get her bearings. Looking down (or, was it up?) at her foot, she found blunt fingertips pinching at her ankle, holding her suspended in the air. Quite a number of feet in the air, too. The grip on her wasn't painful yet, but just barely firm enough to hold her. Like at any moment, it could give way and let her drop.

The world had just begun to settle when the two fingers around Zepheera’s ankle rolled around it, causing her to rotate in place until she met the gaze of cold, unfamiliar eyes. Her blood ran icy as a rather feral grin spread before her, far too close for comfort.

It wasn't her Time Lord.

“Aw, isn't this one adorable?” The Master’s voice rumbled through Zepheera’s entire being at such close proximity, and its tone sent chills through her spine. Patronizing, with a hint of a bite to it that only reinforced the danger the borrower was in. She needed to get out of this position immediately, but she couldn't even properly look around. His wrist rocked back and forth in the tiniest of movements,which translated to Zepheera swinging dizzyingly in his grasp.

The only things she could comprehend in all the motion were those eyes, which seemed to focus on something beyond her as the Master continued his taunts. “Your pets get cuter by the day, Doctor. Couldn't you just eat her up?”

“Don’t!”

The relief that bloomed in Zepheera’s chest to hear the Doctor's voice was fleeting. The fingers tightened their grip on her ankle, and she didn't even have time to react to the pain through the all too quick backwards movement she endured immediately after. She clutched her head through the rush of blood as she was dragged up into the air, left to swing again when it all came to a halt.

“ ‘Don’t?’ Like I actually would. No telling what the little vermin’s been crawling through, what sort of diseases she carries! Wouldn't make much of a snack, anyway.”

Zepheera managed to open her eyes again, finding a long view down the Master’s arm as he held her overhead. Like a child keeping a toy out of reach from another. She didn't have to look far to see that the Doctor was not out of reach, having closed much of the distance between himself and the other Time Lord. The look in his eyes told the borrower everything, however.

Though he was within an arm’s reach of his companion, making a grab for her would more than likely end up with her in the middle of both their grasps. The damage that could be inflicted on her in such a situation might be too quick and permanent for her to recover in her usual fashion. No healing factor could save her from being crushed, and Zepheera and the Doctor both knew that.

So Zepheera watched the Doctor’s usually warm, yet now dangerous gaze drop from hers to meet the Master’s as he growled, “Give her back to me.”

Zepheera couldn't wait around for the Master to comply reasonably. She hadn't known about him for long, but that seemed a less than likely outcome. Looking back at herself, she lamented going without her glass-headed pin for this trip. Still, she was far from unarmed. Hidden in the boot that happened to be dangling free of the Master’s grasp was a small knife. It wouldn't do lethal damage by a long shot, but might just sting long enough to cause a distraction.

It was worth a shot, but grabbing the knife was easier said then done. Still gloating, the Master continued to swing Zepheera back and forth ever so slightly. Just enough to throw off her trajectory every time she swung herself up and reached for her boot.

The Master chuckled dryly. “Y’know, this is low, even for you. And here I thought you were scraping the bottom of the barrel with all those humans you love running around with so much, but this?? Talk about fragile!”

His wrist twisted more broadly and less gently, and Zepheera couldn't contain a startled cry. When she settled this time, she was angled more toward the Master’s inverted, unbearably smug face. He looked over her tiny frame with a growing smirk.

“Though, I can see the appeal. You can bring whole civilizations to heel, but there's nothing quite like having one entire life in the palm of your hand.” Glancing back at the Doctor only made him grin wider, to see the way he bristled. “Even you have to admit it, Doctor. Feels good, doesn't it? Holding her survival in the balance. Why else would you carry around something so weak, pathetic, and– Augh!”

Without the incessant swinging, Zepheera was finally able to reach her knife and give it the hardest throw she could manage from the awkward angle. It hit its mark, embedding down to the handle under the Master’s fingernail. It startled him enough to let go of Zepheera's foot, and rather than attempt to control her fall, she curled in on herself. She knew what was coming.

The Doctor, true to form, was primed and ready. He had seen what Zepheera was doing, what the Master was too caught up in gloating to notice. The second he saw Zepheera drop, his hand thrust out to catch her. It curled around her quickly yet gently, cushioning both her fall and the rapid backwards motion as he snatched his hand back and away from the Master.

“Stronger than she looks,” snapped the Doctor, though he knew the Master wasn't listening. The other Time Lord was plenty distracted, trying to extract the tiny implement from its target.

The fingers around Zepheera unfurled, and the Doctor quickly looked his companion over. His scrutiny was much more welcome to the borrower, more concerned than anything.

“I'm okay,” she insisted, though her attempt to meet his gaze didn't go well. She was still quite a bit dizzy from all the time spent upside down and her ankle was a bit sore, but was otherwise unharmed. Squeezing her eyes shut helped the world stop spinning, and she forced a humorless chuckle through it. “The real torture was listening to him waffle on.”

#borrowed time and space #btas tenth doctor #btas the master #btas simm!master #zepheera #borrower OC #the borrowers #the borrowers crossover #doctor who crossover #doctor who gt #giant tiny #giant #tiny #tiny house #g/t #giant/tiny #sfw gt #fearplay #handheld

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borrowedtimeandspace · 2 months

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Picking Up the Pieces 1/3

1 [here] | 2 | 3

AU: A Patient, and Time (Donna AU); direct continuation of December Without Roses

Note: the angst continues because I said so

~~~

Donna Noble lay on her bed, dead to the world.

The Doctor stood silently over her. He ignored the slow loss of feeling in his fingers as his hands clenched into fists in his pockets.

This was for the best. Donna would be with her family, and get on with her life. As long as she didn't remember anything about her travels in the TARDIS. As long as she forgot her friends and, even worse, the woman she had become along the way.

Everything in the Doctor’s body felt like it was hanging on by a thread. He wanted nothing more than to stay by her side until she woke up, to tell her everything and have his best friend back. But that was impossible now. Letting himself break down would do no one any good. He had to be strong. Sylvia and Wilfred were waiting, and the Doctor wasn't the only one grieving Donna’s loss.

His eyes slid slightly to the left of the bed.

“Zepheera.”

The borrower, similarly standing watch over Donna on the nightstand beside the bed, hadn't spoken a word to the Doctor since they left the TARDIS. After the fuss she'd put up before– for good reason, considering she had no say in what happened to Donna– her silence in the aftermath was almost unsettling. It had been so long since he'd seen Zepheera this quiet.

Even now, she seemed to ignore him. He took a gentle step closer and reached a hand toward her, one knuckle on track to nudge her shoulder. “C’mon, let's–”

“I'm not leaving her,” she snapped, swatting his finger away before he could make contact first.

The Doctor blinked and pulled his hand back. The actual blow hurt far less than the venom in her tone, the way she turned her back on him completely, arms crossed tight over her chest.

He waited a breath before trying again. “We can't stay. She's going to wake up soon.”

“Then she shouldn't be alone.”

With a sigh and a glance toward Donna to make sure she was still out cold and hadn't stirred, he drew closer and knelt next to the nightstand to be closer to Zepheera's level.

“I know it hurts. She can't be reminded of us, anything we–”

“Don't patronize me!” Zepheera spat, shooting a glare at him over her shoulder. “I heard you the first time.”

The Doctor winced. Of course, she was still angry with him. Though he'd done his best to ignore them as he wiped Donna’s memory, he wouldn't soon forget her wailing sobs when it was done. The way she screamed “Don't touch me!” right in his ear when he attempted to comfort her.

She scrambled away from him as soon as she could, ending up on the old seat next to the console as the Doctor sank to the floor with Donna halfway across his lap. When she demanded a proper explanation for what he did, he gave it freely. Zepheera deserved to know that Donna could no longer be a part of their lives and why.

“You didn't even try,” Zepheera had murmured once the Doctor was done. She spoke numbly and wouldn't look him in the eye. “You could have told me, we could have looked for something else to make her better–!”

“There was nothing else,” the Doctor maintained. “Wiping her mind was the only way to keep her alive. I'm sorry I didn't involve you, but if I didn't act quickly, she was going to die–”

“Then WHAT is the POINT of us?!”

The Doctor clenched his teeth as Zepheera rounded on him, tiny violet eyes overflowing with tears once again.

“We're meant to save people,” she went on, fire in her eyes and a grit in her voice. “She didn't want to give that up, she was brilliant at it! So what good are we if we can't even help her stay?!”

His hearts sank as Zepheera's angry rant petered off into soft crying. Donna had expressed a similar sentiment when the borrower's condition was at the worst point they'd both seen. Back then, he wasn't sure if Zepheera was even awake or lucid enough to hear their conversation. Regardless, the concern his companions had for one another was palpable.

It shouldn't have ended this way.

“I'm sorry,” he breathed. He'd said it before, but he needed her to know he meant it. “I am…so sorry. But I had no choice…”

“Well, at least you got to say goodbye!”

The Doctor didn't have an answer to that in the moment. He still didn't, and that led him to concede to Zepheera's wishes now.

“Okay,” he whispered. He slowly pushed himself to stand, pocketing his hands once again. “Wilf, Sylvia…they need to know what happened.”

“Better tell them, then.” The numb tone was back, and Zepheera's gaze moved to fix squarely on Donna.

The Doctor gave an equally numb nod, and before he could think to stop himself, he added, “Don't let her see you.”

“I'm not an idiot,” Zepheera scoffed. “I'm a borrower, and a damn good one. Out of sight is our whole thing.”

He took her point and turned to go. When he made it to the door, he chanced a glance back toward Zepheera.

“Do you…” The Doctor doubted this was the time to ask, but he wasn't sure when the right time would be. “If you didn't want to travel with me anymore after all this–,”

From across the room, Zepheera truly did look so small. The Doctor could almost forget that when he put in such effort to keep her close. And it did nothing to lessen the vitriolic effect of the scowl she locked him in as she whipped around, cutting off his question. The Doctor found himself stiffening from head to toe under that gaze.

“Don't you dare,” growled Zepheera. She swept an arm up to indicate the slumbering human beside her. “We've lost Donna. And yes, that saved her life, but it is not okay. We are not okay. I might be cross with you right now, but I'm not leaving you alone after this, and you will NOT leave me behind, too!”

The Doctor's lips pressed into a thin line as his head hung in acknowledgement of her words, ones not at all dissimilar to those he'd used to invite her to stay with him in the first place.

“I'll come back for you,” he promised before he stepped beyond the threshold, out of Zepheera's sight.

#angst #doctor who gt #doctor who g/t #doctor who crossover #the borrowers #the borrowers crossover #sfw gt #sfw g/t #borrower oc #Zepheera #A Patient and Time #APAT: a BTaS AU #giant #tiny #giant tiny

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borrowedtimeandspace · 7 days

Text

Make It All Come True

AU: The Donna Trilogy | If I Could Turn Back Time

Note: This story started so long ago. Back when I had the time and energy to more actively respond to prompts and requests. I think that this might have been one of the first proper AU of BTaS that I dreamt up, actually. Fleshed out enough that I was even asked at one point if I was replacing the 'canon' story with it. And it never will replace the origins of Zepheera and the Doctor, but after so many years it does hold a special place in my heart.

And now it's grown into a multi-part mini series of an AU. I really hope you guys enjoy, because the journey continues here and now.

(Featuring characters from Zepheera's Origins)

~~~

Earth, 1969 C.E.

Under the floorboards of a quiet cottage in the countryside, in a tiny home built for two and occupied by one, a borrower squinted in the slightest amount of light that cut through the darkness.

Fair skin did nothing at all to hide the deep circles under his light blue eyes. Half awake, he stared unblinking at the second pillow and the other half of the bed. Both empty. Just as they'd been every morning.

He wasn't sure if he'd say he'd slept that night, or any he could remember recently; he'd lie down in the cold bed each night and close his eyes, and when he managed to open them, it was morning. One might accurately call that ‘sleep’, but it was hardly restful for Orrick.

With a heavy sigh, Orrick pushed himself to sit up in bed. He yawned and scratched idly at his short beard, a few patches of which had gone the way of the hair at the edge of his temples and sideburns: lightening and greying from the light ginger.

Ordinarily, he wouldn't bother being any sort of active at this hour. It was only by some automatic instinct that he got out of bed at all, usually well into the afternoon, and ate enough to stay alive.

Today, though, he had work to do. And he knew it would take him all day.

Orrick shuffled into the kitchen out of habit, and his hand found its way to the pencil lead on the table. He made one small stroke on the little slip of paper that had stayed there for weeks.

Right under the words ‘I'm sorry’ were thirty hash marks. One for each day since his wife vanished without a trace.

He'd promised himself that this was as long as he would wait. He couldn't spend the rest of his life waiting for her to return, and he couldn't deny that being alone was not going well. So he would make the journey to the house where he grew up, where at least one of his sisters still lived.

Having the plan was easy enough. Actually working up to it was infinitely harder. After a few hours, he'd only managed to dig out all the large bags he reckoned he could reasonably carry while full, and packed one of them half-full.

Everything he picked up held a memory within it, unlocked as soon as Orrick made contact. Nothing he did could suppress them, and it made deciding what was essential for his journey all the more difficult. The feelings that washed over him when he held the cup she'd always drink her tea from, and the climbing rope she'd made for him, were equally overwhelming and hard to let go of.

He was in the middle of sorting through his clothes (half of which his wife had made for him) when a new sound broke through the silence.

Knock knock…

Orrick was up on his feet in an instant. Any hope that tried to bubble up in his chest was shoved down before he could even register it, leaving only caution in its place. He and his wife had been the only borrowers left in the cottage for years. Once in a blue moon, a borrower of the more transient type would pass through, but they were awfully quiet and polite for that to be Orrick's assumption.

He listened for another moment, leaning slightly out of the bedroom to give the door down the hall a sidelong look.

“Who is that?” he called, his voice rough with disuse and full of suspicion.

No response came from the one on the other side of the door. Orrick wasn't sure what to make of it. After a moment of hearing nothing, he shook his head and decided that they must have scurried off.

“Can't you remember the fun we had…?”

The singing, soft and distant as it was through the door and across the home, sent a jolt through Orrick's body and froze him in his tracks.

He knew that song. It had been ages since he'd heard it, but he would never forget it.

“Time is so fleet…”

Orrick's feet stumbled forward of their own accord, but he stopped himself halfway down the hall.

“Why shouldn't we meet…?”

No one but her would understand the significance of that song, but… No, it couldn't be. After so long, why would she…? Orrick must be hearing things, going mad, he decided. Just ignore it.

“When you're away from me…days are sad…”

The break in the singer's shaky voice tugged at Orrick's heartstrings. An involuntary breath interrupted the phrase, and what managed to come across had an audible quiver to it. Stifling a sob and trying to push through it.

Why would Orrick's mind invent such a detail?

“Life's not complete,” they sang very clearly through tears now. “My sweet… My…”

Orrick couldn't take it.

He all but sprinted down the hall and tore back the door, desperate to see once and for all if this was really happening.

Wide, tear-filled violet eyes met his, and Orrick instantly felt his own well up.

“Orrick,” Zepheera breathed.

Before he could think of anything to say, she tipped forward as though she could no longer hold her own weight. His arms automatically swept up to catch her, and hers wrapped so tightly around his waist.

“I'm sorry,” she sobbed into his chest, and she seemed unable to stop. “I’m so, so sorry, I'm sorry, I’m sorry…”

Orrick's heart shattered all over again. He certainly had questions for her, but she was clearly in no condition to give answers. The way she cried and clung to him felt so desperate that he could only guess that something incredibly serious had happened.

He shifted his grip on her to a proper hug in return, and the two of them sank to their knees in the threshold of their home.

Together they wept.

Together…

~~~

The entire situation struck both borrowers with a surreal sense of déjà vu.

Orrick helped Zepheera to her feet once they'd cried themselves out, led her to the dining table, and let her sit while he made them tea. He stood alongside the small open flame, waiting for the water to boil. She quietly separated tea leaves into their respective cups.

So many years ago, Zepheera had arrived in Orrick's old home so similarly. The signs of her travels were clear in her worn clothes, none of which he recognized as anything she'd owned before she left. Her rucksack was also new to him, yet just as distressed as the rest of her ensemble.

And the look in her eyes as her finger traced the delicately painted design of the doll's teacup in her hands… She'd had it when they first met, before she truly opened up to Orrick. And she'd had it just before she vanished.

The water warmed up fast, and Orrick took up the makeshift kettle to pour a few drops into Zepheera’s cup. She blinked out of her reverie and murmured a small thanks as Orrick served himself next.

Thick silence fell between them as they watched the steam rising from their cups instead of looking each other in the eye.

What do you say to the woman who disappeared, or the man you abandoned?

Zepheera managed to find something first.

“How long have I been gone?”

That drew Orrick’s attention. “You don't know?” he asked, studying her expression. Of all things, Zepheera should know that as well as he did.

Zepheera shook her head and lifted her gaze to meet Orrick’s at last. He felt something in him twist. He couldn't explain it, but…there was something about her eyes now. They hadn't changed, not physically, and yet they weren't the same as he remembered.

She didn't seem confused or disoriented, like she’d somehow lost memories and had no sense of the time passed. At the same time, it looked like she truly didn't know the answer. More like she was afraid to hear it, or worried about what Orrick would say.

“Why don't you know that?” he pressed. “What happened to you?”

Zepheera opened her mouth, and though the desire to speak was clear in her eyes, nothing came out. She let out a long breath, and her gaze dropped back to her teacup. “That is… an extremely long story…”

They both took long pulls of their cooled tea.

Orrick rubbed at his eyes. Getting a straight answer out of Zepheera had never been like pulling teeth before.

“Okay, just… Answer me this,” he tried again. “Why did you leave?”

Zepheera closed her eyes and took another deep breath. “I found something,” she said; it seemed this was the question she was actually prepared to answer. “Learned something about myself. And it scared me.”

Orrick frowned. “You could have talked to me,” he insisted, leaning toward her as though it would make her open her eyes and be honest with him. “That’s the whole point of being married, Zepheera, working through things together–”

“I don't age, Orrick.”

The firm revelation cut straight through any argument Orrick had. When her eyes opened to lock with his again, he felt them pushing him back in his chair like a physical sensation. Astonishment and confusion struck him dumb.

Zepheera struggled to keep her emotions in check as she admitted further, “I think I haven't aged since right around the time we met.”

“How…?” was all he managed to utter, his head spinning with many endings to the question. How was that possible? How could she know for sure? How did that lead her to just leave?

As though she could sense all that, Zepheera gave a shrug and said, “I don't really know. Never did find out for sure, but… Well, I looked at some old drawings.”

Orrick felt what little color there was to be found in his face drain from it. Ever since he was a kid, he found that if he saw something, he could recreate images of it in his head with spot-on accuracy. With practice, he got very good at putting those images down into sketches, to the point that some came out almost like humans’ photographs.

One of his favorite pastimes since he'd met Zepheera was drawing her. For special occasions or just because.

“There were two pictures of us,” she went on. “Must have been drawn about twenty years apart. And in them, you could actually see how much time had passed. With you. But with me?” Zepheera blinked back tears, determined to push through this. “Orrick, I looked exactly the same in them.”

Orrick found himself staring, utterly stunned. Though he always thought Zepheera was beautiful inside and out, he was never the type to put enough emphasis on her looks to scrutinize the finer details of her features. Now that she pointed it out… she did look incredibly young for a woman in her forties. On the rare occasion that he did think about it before, he always assumed that Zepheera had simply been blessed with good genes.

Looking back through all the pictures he had of her in his mind, however… even going as far back as their first meeting, he couldn't deny that Zepheera didn't appear to have aged a single day.

The realization must have shown on his face because Zepheera nodded. “You see it now, don't you?”

Orrick blinked away all the mental images. “I-I don't understand,” he said as he refocused on Zepheera. “Why didn't you just tell me about this?”

“I…” Zepheera's voice caught in her throat. She swallowed and tried again. “I thought that…” Then she gave a sharp huff and slumped in her seat, face buried in her hands. Whether out of shame or frustration, Orrick couldn't tell. “It's all so buggered,” she mumbled.

Orrick's hands automatically reached out to take Zepheera’s, but they stopped short. He still had yet to fully grasp how she was feeling about all this, or decide where exactly they stood now. So he instead let one hand give her shoulder a supportive squeeze. That much felt appropriate.

At first, Zepheera stiffened under his touch, but she quickly recognized it for what it was. She nodded into her hands, ran her fingers through her short hair and breathed.

“I was wrong.” Her violet eyes bore into Orrick’s when she said so. “You deserved to know, and I should have told you right away. But…at the time, I panicked.

“You have to understand,” she insisted as she straightened, rising out of Orrick’s comforting touch. “What we had… Everything we were to each other… My whole life, I hadn't felt that way with anyone. So much of the time, I would think that it was all too good to be true. That I didn't deserve someone as wonderful as you. But you made me feel worthy of being loved.”

This time, when the tears came, there was no effort to hold them back. They simply rolled down Zepheera’s cheeks as she went on.

“But this…it meant that we wouldn't last forever. That I would lose you one day and have goodness knows how long to live with that. And the way that kept playing in my head over and over made it feel like it had already happened. Like all the good things were already on their way out and there was nothing I could do to stop that.”

Zepheera paused to catch her breath and scrub at her cheeks, flush with guilt and shame. “It makes no sense, but… I thought that if I left, then all that pain would be over with. That being alone was the only… ugh, so stupid,” she moaned, lowering her gaze to the anxiously wringing hands in her lap.

Things went quiet once again, as though Zepheera was awaiting Orrick’s judgment of her explanation.

It was a lot to take in. Orrick had to sit with it all for a few moments before he collected himself enough to speak up again.

“What changed your mind?”

She glanced back up, almost to confirm for herself that Orrick wasn't visibly and clearly angry with her for the choice she made. It didn't mean he wasn't upset, just because it didn't show. Still, he deserved an honest answer to his questions.

“I've been through a lot since I left,” she said, very nearly a whisper. “And it all taught me that, even though it all comes to an end… that just makes every single moment you have with the people you love all the more precious.”

For the first time since her return, Zepheera managed a smile, small and sad as it was.

“I don't know if you'll ever forgive me, or take me back. I dunno if I even have the right to ask. But I knew that it would be cruel of me to not at least tell you why I did what I did, now that I have the chance to. You deserve that much.”

Orrick gave a solemn nod when it seemed that she had said her piece, to let her know that he'd heard and understood. There were still plenty of questions he had for her, gaps she had yet to fill. For now, though, this was a lot to process. Not just the idea of Zepheera not aging at all, but all the turmoil she put herself through over such a discovery. It was hard to hear, and Orrick needed time to let it all sink in.

“Thank you,” he managed to reply, a quiet yet dry acknowledgement of all that had been said. Bizarre as it all was, he couldn't deny that Zepheera seemed to be telling the truth.

The next sip of tea they took in tandem was stone cold.

#sfw g/t #sfw gt #The Donna Trilogy #If I Could Turn Back Time #borrowed time and space #the borrowers #borrower OC #Zepheera #Orrick #giant tiny #g/t writing #borrowers

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