Until We Burn | Dr Who

Chapter Twenty-Seven: A New Life

The first few weeks are tough. I miss the Tardis, I miss Rose and the Doctor. It seems that this distance has done nothing to ease that pain.

The world is quiet after what happened. It won't last long but, for now, the shock is too great. Cybus factories all over the world are still running.

Mickey and Jake are out there, somewhere. He hasn't called me for a while.

His grandmother practically dotes on me now that I live in Ricky's bedroom. She tries to fill the void with endless cups of tea and far to much food. I don't dare to turn it down — partly because she scares me and partly because, honestly, I like it. The closest I've ever gotten to this was Christmas with Jackie, the kind of mother I always wanted. I am always quick to supress that memory. She is gone too. I won't see her again.

For the first time in a while, I leave the neighbourhood. I barely have any money to my name and only possess the few belongings I managed to grab before I left. Some of the Preachers' money stash gets me a taxi further into town.

So here I am, alone in the corner of a bar I have not visited for a very long time. When I look across to the stage that still hosts a jazz band, albeit a more modern one, all I see is the man that I once knew.

Leaning by the back exit. Arms crossed and leather-clad. The pain hidden behind blue-grey eyes as they scan the room, finally landing on me. Smiling. A nod, as if to say 'hello'.

The Doctor.

My Doctor.

The Time Lord who welcomed me into his life, who gave me a home, a family. Who understood what it was like to be so separated from one's own kind.

What started as just another scam became something so much more. I followed him out of this very bar and I never stopped.

Not until now. And I don't expect I'll ever see him again.

But being in this bar also reminds me of a deep-seated regret that I never allowed myself to acknowledge before now. If I had just stayed put or gone to that bomb shelter with everyone else, if I had just minded my own business and ignored the scam, maybe... just maybe... Jack would still be alive. Maybe he'd be here with me. Maybe I'd not have to lose yet another person I love.

I haven't truly realised until now just how self-sabotaging I am capable of being. I messed it all up. It's my fault.

No use dwelling on it now. What's done is done. I have a quest to complete.

The door opens and a man in a pinstripe business suit enters. He sits at the bar, his back to me. Perhaps it's his stress or just a trick of the light, but the blonde fuzz he had on his head the last time I saw him is a lot more sparse and grey.

I approach, taking the stool beside him. "I'll have what he's having."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him tense. Still, he doesn't look at me. "I thought you left," he mutters.

Two glass tumblers are placed in front of us, containing barely an inch's worth of amber on ice. It leaves a sickness in my stomach. I miss that colour already. "Nope. I've got business in this universe." I take a sip, immediately wincing and spluttering as I try to swallow it. "Hercules! Is this what scotch tastes like nowadays? It's vile! I remember it being better last time. Might've been the bombs, though. Fear of getting blasted into smithereens does make things taste nicer."

"Who the hell are you? You never did say. Not poperly, anyway." Frustration quickly takes over his initial shock. "Oh, God, don't tell me you're like her. What are you, my friend's cousin's pet hamster from a parallel world? First my dog's my daughter, then this?" he snaps. Feeling a few of the patrons' stares, he busies himself with a loose cufflink.