Mother, Gaia (A Thasmin Fanfiction)

Chapter Three-- Shelter as We Go

Yasmin Khan is filled with light. She fights back against the heaviness in her eyelids, taking it all in. She's surrounded by white, but it's a brighter shade than the snow she left behind. She lies out on a mattress with sheets pulled tight underneath her. She still wears the same clothes from when she passed out, besides the new coat. She can feel her fingers curl under the palms of her hands before extending again, but the throbbing in her head remains. The pain wraps around her skull under the glaring light, and she shuts her eyes again. She raises her arms, only to slam her wrist against metal. The impact sends a sharp static through her arm, no longer numbed by the cold. In fact, there is no frigid air to cut through her lungs—instead, there's a warmth in this new world of light, bringing her senses back to reality. Or, what Yaz can only hope is reality.

She opens her eyes again, welcomed by a crack in the white. The horizon slowly spreads, opening to a wooden ceiling. White turns to a rusty brown, and the light dims as the façade fades away. Yaz looks down at the bed, seeing the thin white walls of her pod disappearing underneath. Yaz pushes herself up into a sitting position, letting her pillow fall off her pod and onto the floor. The first thing she hears is a familiar, gentle snore, and she takes a deep sigh of relief. Turning towards the noise, she sees Graham in a similar-looking cot beside her, turned to one side. The walls of his pods have disappeared, too. Between their two cots, heavy coats lie in a pile on the floor. Beyond Graham, a third cot lies empty. The pod walls wrap the cot in a tight cocoon, but the viewing window reveals only a flatten pillow and untouched sheets.

They could almost be aboard the Tsuranga again, if not for the medical bay itself. It's a cabin of some sort, enclosed by wooden walls with no windows to show the outside world. A fireplace sits in the far corner, crackling flames dancing behind transparent glass. A few rocking chairs circle around it, though one is missing to complete the circles. Dents in the green carpet assure Yaz of its disappearance. A few paintings hang on the walls, most of them depicting different forest landscapes. There's a door in front of Yaz's cot with intricate designs carved into the wood.

Something stirs beside her, in the corner of her eye. Yaz turns to her left, only to find a sleeping time lord cradled in the misplaced rocking chair. Now it all makes sense—Yaz notices the trail of ruffled carpet that leads to the Doctor's seat. The wooden armrest presses against the edge of her cot, but it sits still. The Doctor's arm dangles against the armrest, her hand gliding close to the edge of the sheets. She has a flannel blanket on her lap, with her other hand pulling it closer to her body. Boots dangle out on the other end, heels digging into the carpet. The Doctor still wears her same old coat and striped shirt, and there's a steady rise and fall in her chest. Yaz has never seen the Doctor in such stillness—that walk through the blizzard must have been hard on them all. Her face is expressionless and soft, her chin pressed against one shoulder, her head leaning against a pillow for support.

Yaz still can't believe it, that this woman who fell into their lives exists at all. She only met her a few weeks ago, but it feels like they've known each other for years. One day, she was training to be a police officer, resolving parking disputes and questioning the legitimacy of the woman filled with golden light that slept on Graham's sofa. And the next, she was wandering around with a piece of the universe. She had seen whole new galaxies and relics of the past, and there she was with the Doctor again, resting beside her.