Companion of Death - A Doctor Who Fanfiction (Thasmin)

Interlude: Nightmares

Update on my other fanfic: it is now called The Agent. That's going to be its permanent title.

And here's an update from Companion of Death!

I jolted awake screaming bloody murder. The nightmares were back. They had been a nightly occurrence when I was twelve, but I hadn't gotten any in the five years since then. I had no explanation as to why they were back. I was nervous that my screaming would wake everybody else in the TARDIS, and then I'd be in trouble. I couldn't talk about any of this to them.

Gentle fingers started combing through my messy, overgrown hair in an attempt to soothe my troubled soul. I stiffened, realizing that I had indeed woken everybody. Or at least somebody. If it were the Doctor or Yaz, I could blow them off easily. But if it were Missy... well, she's proven to be persistent. Deciding to just bite the bullet, I rolled over to face the person.

"Hey," Missy said.

"Nightmare," I grumbled, answering the unspoken question. "Go away."

"Never," the Time Lady vowed. "The Doctor said that to me once, in a fit of anger, and look where I ended up. Trying to destroy the world because I knew I could never rule it. I went as far away from him as possible, knowing that as enemies we could never be friends again. I'll never go away, because I'm scared what I'll become." She paused. "What was the nightmare about?"

My father. My birth father, whom my mom fled to Earth to avoid. She left everything – home, job, her own family – to protect Damon and me. She never really settled in, and the stress killed her. That started the nightmares. I never understood how losing my mom made me have nightmares about my birth father, but maybe it was the loss of one parent that made me think about the other. That's what Damon said. He was my wise big brother, older by five years, and he knew stuff. He was going to become a psychologist. He was halfway through his bachelor's degree and passing with flying colors when he was killed.

But I had to stop thinking about all that, because Missy was still waiting. And my silence was worrying her.

"Just a flashback," I told her, my tone guarded. "My father was abusive."

"Mine, too," Missy said, muttering something that sounded like a curse in a foreign language. "But I got my revenge. He's dead now."

I nodded in understanding. How I often wished my father would die, sparing the rest of us all that struggle and distress. If not for him, Mom would be alive. Damon, too. And I wouldn't be officially dead, either.

One solitary tear fell from my eye, trickling across my nose, and that was the end of it. My composure shattered like a window that got a ball kicked at it; my decision to not talk about my family lost all its former resolve. Soon I was reduced to a sobbing mess and I was telling her all about my father, Mom, Damon, and Che. Everything that had upset me all day, I told her.

"Damn," Missy uttered when I finally went quiet. The single word encapsulated everything she could have said.

"Yeah," I said. "I've never told anybody about that before. Not even Che. So if you burn me..."

"I won't," Missy promised.

"Prove it," I demanded.

She smirked, pulling me out of bed fiercely. She caught me when I fell and pulled me to my feet. Our bodies were embarrassingly close. Missy grabbed my hand and dragged me from the room, hauling me through infinity hallways.

"Where are we going?" I asked, removing my hand from her grip.

"You'll see," she replied mysteriously.