Yaz wakes, gasping as she fights for air to enter her demanding lungs.
The steady whirl of the thrumming machinery under her bed relaxes the girl slightly. This meant she was safe, she was home. Well, her second home.
The details of the nightmare eluded her. She scrunches her face trying to remember. There had been orange light, and dust, lots of dust.
Somehow Yaz feels she has had this nightmare before.
She glances around her little room, not really seeing it.
It was very pretty, baby blue coloured walls and a polished floor, paintings that should not work together but did.
It was within the wisdom of the TARDIS that they were aimed at her taste, lots of blonde women.
And then it came to her, staring at an image of a blonde pixie by the oak door.
She had dreamed about the Doctor again.
But still it had definitely been a nightmare, which was unusual as most of her dreams concerning the Doctor, which, now she came to think about it, were the vast majority, were good dreams... Yaz blushes at the thought.
But still it distresses her that this particular dream about The Doctor had been a nightmare.
To settle her mind, she decides to find her girlfriend and confirm her well being.
It sounded so formal.
Really she just wanted a hug.
More blushing commences.
Then Yaz stops, feet dangling over her bed, hands stroking the extra soft grey coverlet the TARDIS had provided for the winter.
Where did, if at all, The Doctor sleep? Or did she simply wander the TARDIS waiting for the humans to wake?
It seemed unlikely but Yaz was unsure.
And if she did sleep, did she dream? Did nightmares plague her, recalling her sad and twisted past from what little she had told her friends?
Yaz ponders, and is saddened by how little she still doesn't know about The Time Lord.
She needs reassurance badly though, so thinks the console room would be a good place to start.
Along the way Yaz realises the reason the dream had scared her so much was because it had been based on truth, a very real and painful memory that Yaz had buried deep, but not deep enough to avoid her subconscious' searching feelers.
Upon recollection the real memory surfaces, not the vague dream like version, and Yaz remembers.
Remembers running through those halls in the capitol city of Gallifrey, strange orange light illuminating the way, dust covering the floor in a thick carpet, terror alive in her blood, searching, searching for her friend.
It had been days since they had spoken, and part of Yaz had known those days could be nothing compared to what was to come.
Remembers how she had run with the other survivors, leading the way into a huge chamber, and hurtling down those steps after taking in the unmoving form of the unconscious Doctor, lying on her front, dust scattered across her form, hand up close to her face made invisible by that beautiful cloud of blonde hair.
Remembers how for a minute she had wondered if they were too late, kneeling in front of her broken body, as she touched The Time Lord's hand, relief coursing through her burning blood like morphine as the hand she touched responded slightly.
Remembers how those hazel eyes she loved had opened slightly, acknowledging the words of comfort her friends had spoken in fervent whispers, then smiled, still desperate to reassure her fam to the last.
Remembers how Yaz herself had felt like crying as she took in every graze, every scratch and bruise on the fragile and defeated body lying in front of her, tortured by an apparent friend, knowing she would have done anything in the world to trade places.
Drawn from her deep reverie by her arrival in the console room, Yaz ponders what to do next.
She had just decided that wandering aimlessly seemed as good a tack as any when she realises there are too many breaths beside her own.
The TARDIS by night setting (for The Doctor only made the changes for the human's benefit) had dimmer lighting, with duller glows from the crystals surrounding the console. So Yaz did not immediately noticed the form lying curled up on her left side some ten feet away on a seated bench not a meter from the console itself.
Yaz crosses quickly from the corridor to the bench in ten short strides then smiles.
So Time Lords did sleep.
Deeply too, for Yaz had not been quiet in her approach, yet the Doctor slept obliviously.
Eyes adjusting, Yaz notes, glad she had not tripped on them for that would have been sure to wake The Doctor, some tools scattering the floor.
It seemed The Doctor had been fixing the keyboard for it lay in many pieces, but had given in to her lethargy.
Understandable, for that level of chaotic energy must be tiring on the body.
Yaz smiles, dropping slowly to her knees, looking down at the sleeping woman. She looked, not totally at peace, frown lines still stripped her forehead, but more relaxed than Yaz had seen her since... well since leaving (Y/n) behind.
Yaz's smile vanishes and she recalls the reason she had sought The Doctor in the first place.
The latter woman continues to sleep, unaware of her friend's concern, head lying on one crooked arm as a pillow, the other dangling off the bench, legs brought up in what looked a rather tense foetal position.
The Doctor's breathing was perhaps faster than appropriate, her pink lips slightly parted.
Her delicate rose eyelids were pulled gently over those beautiful hazel eyes Yaz yearned for, chin tucked slightly, tickled gently by the blonde shoulder length hair curling round and framing her face.
The faint light only highlighted the stress in the face Yaz had learned to associate with the violent butterflies in her chest, casting shadows across her skin, paler than Yaz had ever seen it.
The Time Lord snuffles slightly, so she scronched even in sleep, Yaz noted, then sighs and continues her ragged breathing.
Yaz had not moved from her kneeling position, eyes level with The Doctor's horizontal forehead when it occurs to her that maybe The Doctor was having a nightmare.
She ponders waking the woman, but is spared the choice by a sudden ringing of the console phone.
She gasps and falls backwards, but is saved from a painful collision with the dash by a strong hand that darts out and grabs her arm.
She turns, astonished at The Doctor's reflexes who has sat up and adjusted to the situation in half a second.
"Is everything ok my love?" She asks with a cheeky grin, and Yaz utterly melts.
Yes, everything was ok.
It always would be with The Doctor.
She doesn't know how she could have been so nervous to wake her.
She nods and The Doctor gets clumsily to her feet, looking a little bemused.
"Was I sleeping?" She asks looking at the human.
"Yeah sorry I didn't mean to wake you..."says Yaz feeling bad.
"Not to worry, my own fault, actually is that the phone?" She asks with a puppy like head turn.
Yaz giggles and nods.
For all her wisdom she could be such a child at times.
The time lord reaches past and plucks the phone from the bracket, holding it confidently to her ear.
"Hello?" She asks politely, with another content smile at her girlfriend.
YOU ARE READING
13 Novella 2
FanfictionStory synopsis: You're moving on from your trauma and are finding a growing sense of family on the Tardis, but things are changing, yourself more than anyone. For this novella to make sense, please read 13th Doctor X (Y/n) Novella 1 for context. The...
