Brooke

Who is she?

   "What was that about?" I ask Brynna, who has risen up and in leaning against door frame, watching my Dad'a retreating back with eyebrows furrowed. She shrugs. Shaking her head. She looks at me. Searching for answers.
   "Did you see the way he was looking at me? I mean, what was that all about?" Now it's my turn to shrug. 
   "I don't know, but I'm gonna find out."
Brynna left soon after,  I decided to talk to the one person that knew everything about my Dad's life. My Mum. I invited her to my bedroom and about forty minutes later, She came in with a smile on her face. I know that smile. It's the one Mum uses when she's trying to put you at ease. I stare at her for a moment, trying to find the best way to explain to her what we saw. 

   "Well?" Mum prodded gently, the smile starting to melt into a more serious, motherly look. "What did you want to tell me. I swallowed, deciding to just spit it out.

"So I, er, walked in on Dad like an hour ago," I start explaining to her on my bed, playing with the comforter. I can't quite place why I'm so uncomfortable with this subject, but something about it just leaves me uneasy. I clear my throat and continue. "he was crying a bit and was holding an old letter from someone named Rose." Mum's face fell a little bit, she looked at me with serious eyes.
   "Brooke, Do not go asking about Rose. You'll learn in your own time." But my curiosity was peaked. There was no way I could just leave it there.
   "But who is she?" 
   "Someone from his past. Before both of us were born. Before he met my Mum and Dad and before he took them on adventures. Before any of us. She... saved him... helped him when he was broken. When he was hurt. He met her just after he... Just after the war." I look sharply at Mum with her mention of the war, we don' talk about. Mum says we don't have to, and it will just bring us down. My hand stops stroking the soft shag on my duvet. Mom looks down at my had and continues. "His guilt for what happened to her is quite possibly greater than any other guilt he has." I'm speechless. what could be worse than what he had to do to Gallifrey?
   "What happened to her?" I ask after a moment of silence. Mum sighs, a tired sound, like this is a story that she has repeated far to many times.
   "A fate far worse than death when you travel with the Doctor. She was ripped from him and trapped. She did get her own version.  but it's not the same. I got lucky. I got the real him. But... Well, can you imagine being part of this life and then being ripped from it? against your will even? No. Some things are best left unspoken about." She stands up to leave. Then looks back to me. "just don't ask about her. Or Donna." 

  "Who's Donna?" I ask, Mum smiles, a tactic of hers used to make me stop asking questions.

   "Nevermind that. Just trust me on this one. Do you understand?" I nod, even though I don't really understand. Something you learn, living here, is sometimes it's better to just let things go. 
   "Yes Mum." I responded, even though she was already gone. Leaving me to my thoughts. Although I never thought I could, with all these thoughts swimming around in my head, I went to sleep an hour later, my mind bursting with questions in need of being answered.
I woke up in the middle of the night for seemingly no reason, I sat up and looked around, but I was only greeted with silence. Even the cats were asleep. I shook my head, wishing to go back to sleep, but I knew it was useless. I never could fall back asleep if woken up. So I got up to get glass of water. When I get close enough to the kitchen I'm surprised to hear whispered voices coming from inside. My stomach drops as I grab a nearby lamp to beat down the potential attackers, the cool glass almost slipping out of my sweaty hands. But I lower it as I recognize the voices of my parents. Well then. I lean into the door, craning to hear more of the conversation. I can't help it! I'm naturally curious! It's a time lord thing.  But what I hear sends shivers cascading down my spine like a snake slithering down my spine.

   "...can't tell her...yet anyways" That's my Dad, in a low, even, almost angry tone, one he only uses when the situation is dire.

 "...have to...no choice" Is Mum's reply, and there's a pause in the murmuring. when Dad speaks again, he seems defeated.

  "...technically...need to get... out"
   "...being tortured. Remember, I know how it feels to be beaten by Madame Kovarian." The last bit was spoken louder than the rest. They got extra quiet after that. That was all I could take. I turn away and leaned against the wall, staring into the darkness. My stomach felt like someone had dropped chunks of ice in it. That was enough. I went back to bed but  was unable to fall  into sleep. I tossed and turned, and after soaking it all in, I started weeping. Weeping for whoever was being hurt. Whoever didn't have a safe place to stay. I thought Kovarian was dead. The tears wouldn't stop, they slid down my cheeks leaving wet trails behind them as I wondered who could possibly be going through the cruelty my mother had to endure. I didn't sleep that night. I couldn't.