The Defender of Time

Thirty-Nine

Alessia had never run away before. Had she overpacked? People in films only ever packed a sandwich or two and a wad of cash, which she had always found to be quite unrealistic. Alessia didn't have any money packed, and as far as sandwiches go, one of the suitcases had some preserves and non perishables which had been at the back of the pantry.

The runaways in films always left a note. That was something which went largely unchanged. Perhaps a note would be a good idea. At the top of one of the tote bags (NEW NEW YORK GENERAL HOSPITAL) was a stray notebook. Alessia ripped out a page and took a purple pen. She filled up half of the lines (as there wasn't really too much to say) and then taped the note to the console, where it was bound to be noticed.

But now, Alessia knew, came the hard part. There was no DNA track to follow this time-- she had to fly. The controls were cold to the touch. She could name a few of them; atom accelerator, which accelerated atoms, friction contrafibulator, which... contrafibulated friction; but mostly she knew it to be a lost cause. She hoped for a fleeting moment that she might be able to locate the manual, but then remembered that her father had definitely made a comment about how the manual had been thrown into a star when he couldn't find the right page. Just another example of him being immature-- a real class act!-- and probably, in hindsight, not suited to raise a child.

She took a deep breath. Think, Alessia, think! She made her way around the console and stopped at the monitor, pulling it toward herself. It buzzed dully as she touched it and showed her a faded mess of static. "At least somebody likes me." Alessia sighed and leaned forward, resting her head on the screen. "Oh, TARDIS," she whispered, as if phoning an old friend. "What will I do without you?"

The TARDIS buzzed and there, at the base of the monitor, a small light bulb that Alessia hadn't ever noticed before lit up, and then fell dark again. Then, the same happened to a bulb slightly to the left. When that one fell dark, the one next to it lit up; the lights continued like this until they reached a section of the console opposite the monitor, one that Alessia never spent much time studying. But she recognized it nonetheless. This was the telepathic circuit.

At some point in time, Alessia had found one of her father's old notebooks. She had been ten or eleven, young enough that she hadn't had any second thoughts about opening it up and reading through it. There had been plenty of equations that she couldn't make heads or tails of at the time, and most of the pages had Gallifreyan in the margins. But, right around the middle, were pages about the telepathic circuit. And now TARDIS was leading her to it, practically asking, where oh where will you go, my dear?

Alessia couldn't say for sure what would happen if she put her hands in it, except that TARDIS would find somewhere in her mind and take her there. Alessia also couldn't say where she wanted to be taken. She hovered her hands for a moment over the circuit, studying the curves of the inner workings and the slats of metal on top. Then she took a deep breath and planted all ten of her fingers inside of it.

TARDIS lurched into motion almost immediately, and Alessia closed her eyes, thinking TAKE ME SOMEWHERE WONDERFUL, YOU KNOW ME BETTER THAN ANYONE, PLEASE SHOW ME SOMETHING GREAT, DEAR FRIEND, SHOW ME—

And as fast as it had begun, the movement stopped. Alessia ran back to the monitor to see where they'd landed, but found no such luck; either her short-lived flying lessons hadn't covered this part, or TARDIS was keeping something from her. But Alessia knew she was somewhere safe. And, for some reason, the feeling of being here, now, wherever here and now happened to be, was warm and familiar.

The voice of her mother— her first mother, of the Rose and Crown and the Latimer family— was in Alessia's head, then, telling her stories. Saying, "My Alessia, you will go do fantastic things. You have more potential than any other little girl— yes, Alessia, you are little, now stop arguing— than any other little girl this side of the world." Truth be told, Alessia hadn't done much thinking of her mother in the past few years. Life had been hectic, and modern, and new, and suddenly, she was filled with regret for not thinking of her mother as often as she felt she should.