Forward
At first, there was nothing. Just warmth, weightlessness, a silence so complete that for a moment, the Doctor wondered if she even existed at all. Slowly, sensation returned. The rhythmic sound of her own hearts, the soft brush of cotton against her skin, her own breath tickling her philtrum. She fell whole. Not just healed, but centered. Refreshed, body and mind.
Her eyes fluttered open. The Zero Room’s soft glow bathed everything in a white light, calm and untainted. A sanctuary, free from the gravity of the past. She pressed a hand against her chest, fingers brushing over the spot where Ashad’s blast had struck. No pain. No damage. Untainted. Like it had never happened.
She sat up slowly. And for the first time in longer than she could remember, she let her mind wander. She felt strong enough to let herself properly explore her emotions. She clearly needed to, she couldn’t afford another panic attack like the one back in Ashad’s lab.
She thought about Gallifrey. About the ashes, the ruins, the loss of her hope that one day it would be a better, kinder place. She thought about her funknown childhood, stolen and twisted, about the glimpses of herself she was never meant to see; the foundling, the experiment, the weapon.
For so long, she let it consume her, let it warp the way she saw herself. Then she ran from it. But now, she could see the truth. She was angry. Just like she told Ryan. At Tecteun. At the Master. At the secrets and the lies. The Weeping Angels would never have to eat again with all the potential energy of the Doctor’s stolen lives. But she couldn’t let the anger consume her. She could acknowledge, come to peace with it and let the fiery embers burn themselves out. Nothing more pointless than raging against ghosts.
She was also sad. Sad for the child, lost and betrayed. Sad that she would never get answers. Never get justice. Sad that certainty and clarity would undoubtedly bring more heartache. She needed to give herself permission, and time, to grieve. To grow around the pain.
But most of all she was tired. Tired of letting the past define her. Tired of chasing something that would only bring more pain, more destruction, more lost lives. Destroying her present in search of answers - or retribution - wouldn’t honour her past. She realised she’d only half learnt this lesson after the Flux. The Fugitive Doctor had fought to escape that life. She had risked everything for a future where she could be free. And wasn’t that exactly what the Doctor had now? A future. A life. A chance to be something more. A chance to live. To love. To choose who and what she wanted to be.
She exhaled, long and slow, letting the weight of it all fall away. She thought about Yaz. About the people they saved. About how they had protected the young family and given the victims’ loved ones closure. Not justice. Not completely. But something. And maybe that was enough. Maybe this time, that had to be enough. Her hearts ached, but they weren’t heavy anymore. For the first time, she let herself smile. Small. Soft. But real. Now she understood what she was feeling, she felt more equipped to deal with it.
She planted her feet firmly against the smooth floor. Standing steady with certainty in her hearts. She wasn’t going to chase ghosts anymore.She wasn’t going to let the past steal her future. She was the Doctor. And right now, she had someone who needed her. Someone with such a big heart she’d successfully empathised with a Cyberman. The Zero Room doors hummed open. And the Doctor stepped out, ready to find Yaz.
She thought of where they should go next. Somewhere warm, somewhere bright. A little rest and relaxation after the last horrible few days. It would be a shame to waste a rare visit from the Memory TARDIS.
She glanced around, looking for Yaz. The Doctor expected to find her curled up in a comfy nest of blankets. The TARDIS adored Yaz, she was one of her favorites. Of course, she would have taken care of the human.
The Doctor smiled wistfully as she found their old mattress, the one they’d tossed onto the floor after long days of searching for Karvanista, but it was empty. Her stomach twisted. A gut feeling something wasn’t right. She looked around, moving quieter now, in hope that Yaz was asleep somewhere else. Her hearts dropped as she spotted the brunette.
Yaz sat hunched in the corner, staring at the wall. Unmoving. The soft glow of the console room stretched her shadow long across the floor, making the exhaustion on her face look even deeper. The Doctor stopped. This was all too familiar. The posture, the isolation, the way Yaz had ignored the blankets the TARDIS had left for her. Yaz didn’t think she deserved them. Didn’t think she deserved any comfort at all. The Doctor approached carefully. Not wanting to startle her.
"Yaz?"
Yaz didn’t react. Not right away. It was like Yaz had to pull herself out of something, drag herself back from wherever her mind had gone. When she finally turned her head, her eyes were red-rimmed but dull. Unfocused. The Doctor felt like Yaz wasn’t seeing her at all.
The Doctor knelt down beside the brunette, lowering herself to Yaz’s level. She didn’t speak at first. Just waited. Finally, Yaz inhaled sharply. A deep, shuddering breath. Like she’d been holding it in for far too long.
"You should go back to sleep." Yaz’s voice was hoarse and hollow.
The Doctor gave Yaz a small sad smile.
"I’m rested. But you’re not. Talk to me. Please"
Yaz stiffened and shook her head.
"Maybe later, I’m tired."
The Doctor’s chest tightened. But she knew what this was. She recognised it. She had done this herself, so many times. When something hurt too much, she had pushed people away. Heck, she was probably the template for Yaz. She felt like a hypocrite, but she couldn’t let Yaz do this to herself.
She sat next to Yaz, shoulder to shoulder. She didn’t want to make Yaz uncomfortable. They sat in silence for a moment. The Doctor hoped beyond hope that Yaz would say something. That her presence would somehow be a comfort. Seconds turned to minutes. The air grew heavy. Yaz’s dark cloud was growing. Nimbostratus into cumulonimbus. She risked a glance over to the human, to see a tear trickling down her face. The Doctor moved to wipe it away, but Yaz jerked herself away from the Time Lord’s touch. It was sharp, instinctive. A refusal. Not of the Doctor, but of comfort itself. The Doctor’s stomach lurched. She felt out of her depth. Yaz was the emotionally intelligent one. The one who always knew what to say. But Yaz was falling apart. And that meant she had to step up. She took a deep breath.
What Would Yasmin Khan Do?
Empathise. Yaz would empathise.
“So, I’m just going to talk at you, if you don’t mind. Hate a silence, me.”
Yaz’s eyes remained pointed ahead. Slowly leaking tears from her sea of regret. The Doctor ploughed on.
“You’re upset. I think I know why.”
She left space, a gap in the conversation for Yaz to fill. But Yaz said nothing. The Doctor pursed her lips.
“It’s because we left our waterproofs back on that coat rack.”
Yaz let out an involuntary snort at the Doctor’s ridiculousness. The Doctor was relieved that Yaz’s walls hadn’t yet grown so thick they were impenetrable. She pushed on.
“I think you feel guilty.”
The Doctor didn’t want to say too much. She didn’t want to give Yaz any more ammunition for her self-flagellation. She let the suggestion sit with Yaz. The human’s mouth opened and shut as she tried to form the words. Eventually she dropped her head.
"I let him go, Doctor.” Yaz’s voice was strained and bitter. “I let him escape. And now so many people are going to die. Have died. Billions and billions. Because of me."
The Doctor reached out, taking Yaz’s tightly clenched hands in hers.
"Yaz, look at me."
Yaz hesitated. She slowly lifted her head. Her swollen eyes finally met the Doctor’s.
"You were never going to stop him." The Doctor’s voice was quiet.
Yaz flinched, opening her mouth to protest, but the Doctor cut across her. Soft but firm.
"Ashad had alien tech and all the knowledge of the Cyberium. There was nothing we could have done. Even if UNIT had stormed that lab, he wouldn’t have been there. If they’d made it to the mansion earlier, they wouldn't have been able to kill him. And you Yaz. You are clever and resourceful. One of the very bravest people I’ve ever known. But you wouldn't have been able to stop him. You had no other options but to encourage him to leave. He would have killed you otherwise. Killed his family. Then what? He’d still go to the future. But this time he’d leave the present in a much worse state.”
The words hung in the air. Yaz’s breathing was shaky, uneven.
"But I-" Yaz couldn’t accept absolution
The Doctor squeezed Yaz’s hands tighter.
"It was always going to end this way.”
Yaz’s shoulders sagged. She inhaled sharply, gripping the Doctor’s hands like a lifeline.
“And all those deaths are all on Ashad. You bear no responsibility for his actions. Not even a little bit. You have nothing, nothing , to feel guilty for. Not one speck of blood spilt in this whole sorry mess was because of you.”
Yaz sniffed. The Doctor could sense Yaz’s mind whirring.
“But I don’t get it, Doctor. Why wasn’t it a fixed point before? When we followed Percy’s coordinates?”
“An astute observation Yaz! Gold star to you! Gold star? Or points? I guess it's your choice. I think I’d pick-”
“Doctor.”
“It didn’t become fixed until the Master-’”
Yaz scoffed. The Doctor squeezed her hands. She knew Yaz’s hatred of the Master ran extremely deep. The Doctor continued.
“Until the Master shrunk Ashad to use the Death Particle. The destruction of Gallifrey became a fixed point. ”
Yaz dropped her head against the Doctor’s shoulder.
“A fixed point in time is a terrible thing, Yaz. But think of it like a volcano. They can cause massive devastation, but volcanic ash contains a rich mix of minerals. Over time it makes the soil more fertile."
“What?”
The Doctor smiled gently.
“Humans aren’t wiped out by Ashad. The survivors band together and rebuild. But they’ve lost so much. So they can’t afford to harbour prejudice against their fellow man. They’ve experienced something terrible, but they come out of it kinder. Not broken, not vengeful. Kind.”
Tears burned at the edges of Yaz’s vision.
“Like you? Terrible childhood but ended up kind.”
The Doctor gave a quiet chuckle.
“I guess so.” The Doctor brushed her thumbs over Yaz’s. “I’m going to hug you now.”
The Doctor pulled Yaz into a tight hug. The human was initially stiff, but soon Yaz wrapped her arms around the Doctor, clinging tightly to the alien. The Doctor felt Yaz’s tears drip down her neck. She scritched the back of the brunette’s neck, trying to provide comfort. The damn having burst, Yaz began to sob. The Doctor pulled her closer, cooing soothing words as Yaz let out her emotions.
Yaz yawned. The Doctor leapt to her feet. Yaz was exhausted. The kind of exhaustion that settled into the bones, the soul, the spaces between every breath. The Doctor could sense its weight pulling Yaz down.
“Right then. Time for you to sleep.”
“No, I’m, fi-”
“Do not tell me you are fine, Yasmin Khan. Come on.”
The Doctor knew that feeling. Knew how tempting it was to keep moving, to keep running from rest like it was something that could smother you if you let it. But Yaz needed to rest. Needed to stop. And the Doctor was going to make sure she did.
The Doctor held out a hand. Yaz took it and the Doctor helped her to her feet. Yaz screwed her face up as she was led past the mattress.
“I think you could do with a turbo nap in the Zero Room.” The Doctor answered Yaz’s unasked question.
The TARDIS corridors stretched out ahead of them, lights dimmed as if the ship had sensed the exhaustion in Yaz’s bones. The Doctor walked beside her, their pace slow, unrushed. Yaz’s arms were crossed tightly. She was tense, like she was bracing for something. The Doctor could see that Yaz was still holding onto her guilt.
So, she nudged Yaz gently with her elbow, voice light, casual, like they weren’t both carrying the weight of the universe on their shoulders.
"You know, you’re walking like someone who’s being marched to their cell. It’s a nap, Yaz. Not a prison sentence."
Yaz huffed, barely sparing her a glance.
"Feels like the same thing."
The Doctor’s grin softened into something smaller, but still warm.
"Oi, I’ll have you know this is exclusive luxury nap therapy. The Zero Room is top-tier engineering, thank you very much. Full body relaxation, weightless floating, a five-star experience."
"And how much are you charging me for this, then?"
The Doctor wiggled her eyebrows, thrilled Yaz was engaging.
"Oh, very expensive. Your entire guilt complex. Got to leave it at the door. Strict policy, no refunds."
Yaz let out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh, but wasn’t a sigh either. Progress. The Zero Room doors came into view—glowing softly, humming faintly, like they were waiting. The Doctor slowed, turning to Yaz, voice dropping to something gentler.
"You deserve this, Yaz. Just for a little while. Let it go. Let yourself rest."
Yaz stood there, staring at the doors. Then, finally, she nodded. The Doctor reached out, squeezing her hand once, then let go as Yaz entered.
The Doctor lingered outside the door for a moment, pressing a hand against the doorframe. Yaz needed rest, space, time. The Zero Room would hold her gently, let her breathe, let her safely unravel and rebuild herself. The Time Lord exhaled, running a hand through her hair. Her own thoughts were clearer now than they had been in months, given her recent stint in the room. But clarity didn’t erase the ache in her hearts. Because Yaz wasn’t okay. Not yet. And the Doctor couldn’t just tell her that things would be alright, she had to show her.
She straightened, turned, and strode toward the console. The TARDIS felt it before she spoke. The golden glow of the Time Rotor pulsed gently, expectant.
"Let’s give her something to hold onto, yeah?"
The TARDIS hummed, a low, comforting sound, like the ship understood. The viewscreen flickered, lines of Gallifreyan symbols rolling past. The Doctor leaned forward, watching. Searching.
"Come on, show me… show me the future after Ashad."
The screen shifted. The data spun, dates, locations, the thread of time unfolding before her. And there it was. Space Station Ko Shamus. Two years after the fall of Gallifrey. Humans, survivors, living, rebuilding, thriving. The Doctor smiled. There it was, the proof Yaz needed. She locked in the coordinates. The ship rumbled, steady and sure. The Doctor grinned, flicking a series of switches, dancing her fingers over the glowing controls. A few final inputs, a lever pulled, and the Time Rotor groaned to life.
The Doctor bounced on her toes, arms crossed, uncrossed, hands shoved into her pockets before pulling them out again. She was waiting. Waiting for Yaz to wake up. Waiting for the TARDIS to land. Waiting had never been her strong suit. The Memory TARDIS clearly noticed. One of the television screens, buried among the cluttered console room, flickered to life.
The Doctor perked up immediately, bounding over, curiosity piqued. On the screen, a familiar scene played. The bus. The tension. The weight of history pressing down. Her fam hesitating before taking their seats, struggling with the realisation of what they had to do. Their faces were filled with conflict, understanding, duty. The Doctor’s breath hitched. She knew this moment. She had lived this moment. But it still ached to watch it unfold again. And then, Yaz. Young. Full of fire. Still carrying the weight of what they’d done, but resilient. And despite everything, forgiving. The moment played out: Yaz turning to her with a small, soft smile, inviting her to tea. A small, simple act of kindness just hours after she’d been forced to take an unwanted role in history.
The Doctor’s fingers brushed the screen, tracing Yaz’s face, her warmth, her unwavering loyalty. Yaz had forgiven her for so much. More than she ever should have. The Doctor swallowed hard. She only hoped Yaz could find it in herself to do the same for herself.
The TARDIS trilled gently. The Doctor was startled, she hadn’t realised how much time had passed. Yaz must be waking up. She dashed out of the console room, running to the Zero Room. She arrived just as the doors slid open.
Yaz stepped out, blinking sleepily, stretching her arms. The Doctor held her breath. Then, Yaz wrapped her up in a hug.
"I really needed that. Thank you."
The Doctor hugged Yaz back. Tight. A small grin tugged at her lips.
"I’ve got one more thing for you."
Before Yaz could question it, the Doctor grabbed her hand and ran for the doors, pulling her toward whatever came next. The Doctor flung the doors open and they found themselves in the middle of a bustling market place within a space station.
“Welcome to the Ko Shamus , a human space station about two years after you got stuck on Ashad’s Cyber-carrier.”
Yaz stared in awe as people moved around her. They were laughing, talking, rebuilding. There were Cyber-Wars Memorials, plaques with names, but there was life here too.
The Doctor leaned against the TARDIS, watching Yaz take it all in.
"You thought you let Ashad destroy the future."
Yaz exhaled sharply, arms crossed, shoulders still tense.
"But… humans survived?"
The Doctor grinned, nudging Yaz playfully.
"You marvellous humans. You always do."
Yaz let out a breath. For the first time since the mansion, she felt like she could breathe properly.
"You always have to have the last word, don’t you?"
"Me?! Never." The Doctor said in mock offence.
Yaz laughed. It was small, but real. The Doctor offered her hand.
"Now. Come on. Shall we go find something to eat?"
“Actually,” Yaz seemed almost nervous to make the request, “you said they were rebuilding. Can we find something to do? To help?”
The Doctor beamed. This was exactly what the Doctor had hoped Yaz would say. A sign that Yaz was moving forward - that she wasn’t so full of self-loathing that she couldn’t bear to be in the presence of the survivors of the Cyber War.
“That sounds like a great plan.”
The Doctor led the human further into the station. For the first time in days, the two of them both moved forward.