We Can't Have a Universe With No Yaz

Chapter 8

"We aren't leaving. We can help you if you let us. I know you're probably scared, and you think you're alone but you're not." Yaz loved it when the Doctor spoke in such a soft tone, like her voice was made of silk. She wrapped people up with her words, and kept them safe.
"You don't even know me, why do you want to help? Did he send you to mock me?"

"Did who send us Carrie?" Yaz asked. This woman knew more than she was letting on to, and they needed that information to try to save her. Carrie Brown slumped back down into bed, picking up the cold bottle of whiskey she had let go of earlier. The familiar smell of cheap alcohol made her feel nauseous as she put the bottle to her lips. After taking a long gulp, wiping her mouth with her bare palm she offered the bottle to the Doctor.
The Doctor sensed an olive branch and she wasn't going to turn it down, not when a woman's life was at risk. She took the bottle and took a sip, resisting the urge to cough it back out. Carrie nodded towards Yaz who, took an even longer gulp.
"He came to see me the other day. I was on the sidewalk, a few blocks from here. I brought him back here, which is when he got all strange. Started preaching to me about God, and grabbing me by the neck. I mean I've had people do that before and worse but there was something about his eyes. I managed to grab an empty bottle and hit him with it, that's when he said he'd...gut me and to watch my back. He sounded British as well."
She took another deep swig. "So yeah, if two British women can protect me from a psycho then go ahead. But don't come cryin' to me if you get hurt."
"Can you tell us what he looked like?" Yaz asked, sitting on the end of the bed.
"Tall, white, he had dirty brown hair. His clothes were clean. He had this weird leather watch on. Real thick. And he didn't have a beard."
"Do you want us to stay with you tonight?" The doctor asked, placing a hand on her arm.
"No. I just want to sleep." They left, the Doctor using her sonic to lick the door on the way out.

They got back to their hotel, writing what they had learned next to their other findings. The Doctor yawned, accidentally dropping the pen.
"We've has a long day, shall we get some rest? By the way, you're having the muddy bed." Yaz had already jumped under the cleaner duvet. The only clothing she removed was her jacket, which she could have swore the Doctor had slightly shrunk after washing the flour and egg off it. She didn't want to undress, it would send out signals, signals that she didn't want to think about. She was going to unravel one of the biggest mysteries in the world, but still she couldn't stop thinking about The Doctor. How her brow wrinkled when she was thinking, or how she smelt of everything at once. How, when she ran with her in the snow, she had grabbed Yaz's hand. Yaz eventually fell asleep, urging herself not to dream of that wonderful woman.

The Doctor awoke, she guessed it was about 6am, and she was right. Yaz was still asleep. She didn't want to wake her, so she crept around, looking for where she had put her boots. She had forgotten to take her coat off last night, the hood making an imprint on her cheek. She started thinking about what Carrie had said. How she had described him, there was something on the tip of her tongue, something she couldn't remember, and that was one f the things she hated. The Doctor looked down at the streets, the snow had melted somewhat over night, the rain turning it to a slush. She looked down at her slightly showing calves. Brilliant, she thought sarcastically. She stood in front of the wall which was patterned with her writing, studying each word. There was something there, something she could see but couldn't see.