Lyssa stared balefully up at her ceiling as her bedroom door swung open after a brief knock. She didn't move, determined to remain sprawled across her bed, book shut firmly on the bedspread beside her.
"Lyssa?"
She heard footsteps coming closer, and then a moment later, the Doctor's worried face was peering down at her, floppy hair swinging into his eyes.
"What's wrong?"
Her lower lip curled into a pout. "My book," she grumbled, sending a glare at it. "The main character is being stupid, and now we're not on speaking terms anymore. I need time to contemplate this betrayal."
"Ah, so I have good timing, then," he said cheerfully, setting something down on her nightstand with a clink. "It's time for your next round of medicine."
"Oh, wow, suddenly I've found it in my heart to forgive her, sorry, Doctor, I'm busy, can you come back later?" she asked in a rush, swiping her book off the bed and opening it to the page she'd marked. Her eyes fell on the last line she'd read before abandoning it and she cringed, recalling just why she'd shut it. "Actually, on second thought, I think I need to take a nap right now. Rest, recover, you know, like you wanted me to," she rambled, pulling her pillow firmly over her head.
She heard his bright laughter spill out above her and couldn't help a smile as he tugged gently at her pillow. "Nooo," she cried, clamping her arms tightly over it. "Didn't you hear? My resident medical professional said that I needed to rest! That means no being disturbed," she added sternly, peeking out from underneath her hiding spot.
His green eyes crinkled with amusement. "And didn't you hear?" he countered. "Your resident medical professional - a very brilliant and handsome man, by all accounts - also said that you needed to take some medicine every day for a week to boost your immune system after the stress it's been under. And, of course, some delicious, healthy soup."
She groaned and buried herself back under the pillow again. Soup was fine. Soup was great. Soup was very good for you.
Soup was not as amazing when you had to eat it twice a day several days in a row.
"Fine," she grumbled, sitting up with a sigh and shifting to lean against her headboard. "But for the record, I want it noted that I protest having to put my book down just for more soup."
"Your protest has been duly noted," the Doctor said cheerfully, sitting down on the chair beside her bed. "But it will be ignored if you don't take your medicine. How are you feeling?"
She wrinkled her nose as she pulled the tray onto her lap. "A lot less tired, for once. I might still take a nap later, but it'll be a short one, not the all-day ones I took before."
"Don't push yourself," he cautioned as she began to eat. "That's why you're napping constantly and eating all this soup in the first place."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Like I could help that I ended up on a pirate ship in the middle of the ocean, with a 'dodgy mermaid'," she pouted. "Or that said dodgy mermaid picked me as her target right from the start."
"You could have told me once you'd landed," he pointed out.
"I hardly got the chance," she defended herself. "We landed seconds after I arrived, left the ship, and then immediately got ourselves in hot water." She took another spoonful of soup, crinkling her nose at the taste. "Can you explain what's actually going on again, now that I'm awake enough to fully remember it?" she requested, eager for some form of distraction.
He sighed. "You already know you carry a portion of the Time Vortex within you, and that it would normally be lethal. But even with the original changes to your physiology, you can still only handle a limited amount before it becomes dangerous even for you. That's why you jump - it's your body's way of getting rid of the excess energy."
He leaned back in his chair and ran his hand through his hair. "Of course, you don't limit yourself to that, because not all my hair's turned gray yet. You're meant to hold the Vortex, so you need to be able to hold it, and right now you can only handle a small amount. So the energy will periodically change your physiology to make you capable of handling more, but the adjusting process is hard on your body. Hence the need to rest," he gave her a pointed glance.
She rolled her eyes fondly. "Yes, fine, I get it. I'm not leaving this bed until I'm old and gray. Like you, apparently. Carry on."
"I'm only gray because you're trying to age me before my time," he scoffed playfully, pointing a warning finger at her. "Now, the process mostly focuses on your physiology but it can cause some minor external changes as well."
"What do you mean?" she asked with a faint frown. "Am I gonna start glowing all the time now?" she glanced at her hands. "I could get a job as a living night light, I guess."
He raised an eyebrow. "Yes, that's exactly what's going to happen," he said dryly. "Unless, of course, you continue to neglect your soup," he said with a pointed glance, not reacting when she slurped loudly in protest. "No, not actually. It typically manifests itself in subtle ways - your hair might lighten slightly, or perhaps you'll gain a few golden flecks in your eyes. You're not going to start glowing in the dark or be able to fly. Sorry. At this point, you're still basically human with just a little bit of time vortex."
"So, like Ri- uh," Lyssa trailed off awkwardly, remembering exactly where she was in the Doctor's timeline - before Demon's Run - and thus he had no idea of what River was. "Never mind. Ignore me. I'm sick, see?" She hefted her now-empty bowl of soup in the air. "I've got chicken noodle soup. And a blanket."
"Right. Which is why, as a sick person, I'm sure you'll be happy to take your medicine," he told her brightly. "Especially when it will help you feel better!"
She sighed, contemplating her ability to fake a sudden coma. She came to the unfortunate conclusion that he'd likely figure it out before it was of any use to her and leaned back against her pillows with a huff.
He dug into his pants pocket and pulled out an orange pill container that made her grimace when she saw it. "I know, I know, it tastes like pickles, but it could be worse, and it is necessary,"" he reminded her as he pulled out his sonic screwdriver and scanned her, before gaining a relieved smile.
"And you're doing much better! There, you see? It's also beneficial," he told her as he slipped it back into his pocket. "In that sense the Siren may have actually helped," he admitted with a grimace, as if he didn't want to admit it. "Forced you to actually rest. I'd say you'll be back to causing trouble in a few days - as long as you rest properly. As little exertion as possible," he warned her.
She gave him a lazy salute, setting the tray back on the table. "No marathons, got it." He gave her a half smile as he handed her the little pill, and she sighed, having hoped he would have forgotten about it. She forced it down with a shudder, grimacing at the chalky taste it left on her tongue. "Why does medicine always taste so gross?" she muttered, reaching for her water in an attempt to wash out the taste.
He shrugged. "Because people wouldn't believe it was actually good for you if it tasted good. And possibly to encourage people to eat the healthy foods that help keep them from getting sick in the first place, because it certainly tastes better than medicine. Like water, for example," he glanced at the still half-full glass in her hand. "Which you should be drinking more of."
She sighed, dutifully draining her glass. "Speaking of water," she said as she set it back on the tray, "how's Rory doing? I know I've read that you can seem totally fine but actually have water in your lungs that can make you sick later."
The Doctor shook his head reassuringly. "Nothing besides being a bit tired. I told you, he didn't even come close to drowning - he was just a bit waterlogged. Turn him on his side, rub his back, and he was good to go as soon as he had a bit of a nap. You telling him to try and secure himself to the ship could have saved his life."
She nodded slowly, relieved. "That's good," she smiled, letting her thoughts wander. "Although it was really the Siren that saved him, he probably would have swallowed a lot more water by the time we were able to get to him if she hadn't been there." He flinched at the name and she frowned. "Do you still not like her?" she asked curiously. "I mean, I got it at first, before you knew what she was, 'cause you thought she was super dangerous, but now you know what she is. And she actually helped both me and Rory, so shouldn't you like her by now?"
"It's not - it's not her," he muttered, shaking his head.
She paused, trying to understand. "Is it... is it because it sounds like the one from the Pandorica, then?" she frowned. "I thought - I thought the descriptions were all just made up 'cause they were evil and hated the good guys."
Because the legends had made the Siren sound like a horrible creature, but they'd done the same for the 'Warrior' - and in all actuality, had been based on nothing but the gossip of some of the universe's worst creatures fearing the one who stopped their crimes. Why shouldn't it have been the same for the others? Especially because the Doctor himself had stated he'd believed that Lyssa had also been one of their targets - implying she was either the Oracle or the Siren, although given her foreknowledge of events it was likely she was the Oracle.
It was almost as if he had had personal experience with the Siren, and knew for a fact they were evil.
"Have you... met the Siren before?" she asked tentatively. "Is that why?"
His fists clenched around her blankets so tightly she was afraid they'd rip from the sheer force of his grip, and his jaw clenched as he averted his gaze. "No." His tone was hard as ice. "This isn't something I want to talk about."
"Doctor -" she started, reaching out to him.
"Drop it. Just... drop it, Lyssa," he ordered, in a tone harsher than she had ever heard from him. She flinched and withdrew her hand, trying to hide how much that had stung. His fists tightened around her blankets until they were almost white before he sighed, relaxing his grip and burying his face in his hands. "I'm sorry," he apologized at last, voice muffled. "That wasn't - I'm sorry."
She nodded slowly, swallowing hard and mentally castigating herself. It was obviously a sensitive subject, and she should have realized that sooner. "I - that's all right," she said quietly. "It was my fault, I shouldn't have pushed -"
"No!" The word jerked from him so fast that she flinched away again, and this time, he noticed, regret filling his eyes as he tentatively reached a hand towards her. He softened his stance and his voice, leaving his hand as an invitation on the bed for her to take. "I'm sorry. I didn't - I didn't mean to scare you. That... that was never my intention. I just didn't want you to blame yourself for what I did."
He sighed. "What I did was not okay, and you shouldn't say that it was. I was the one who reacted badly, when you were just trying to understand. You weren't pushing at all, and I snapped. I shouldn't have, and I'm sorry. And I'm so sorry for scaring you," he told her quietly, eyes shimmering faintly. "I want you to feel safe with me. But... I've done a rather poor job of that today, haven't I?" he smiled without mirth.
Despite the instinct to wave him off and tell him it was fine, she didn't answer right away, studying him as he waited patiently for her response. That was different - her mother had always demanded a response right away, expecting a quick apology that was rarely meant to be enough to fix any issues.
But he actually meant it - she could see it in his face, in his eyes, that he really was sorry for snapping at her. And not only that, she knew he was sorry because she knew him. Knew he cared about her - just as she cared for him in return.
And honestly, that was enough for her.
"I forgive you."
His head snapped up at her words. "You - you do? Why? I - I know I hurt you. I scared you. Why would you just forgive me, just like that?"
She gave him a small smile. "And do you know why your words hurt me?" She reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. "It's the same reason I can forgive you so easily. Because you're my best friend, and I care about you. It hurt me, because you're my friend, and I can forgive you, because I'm your friend. Besides, it really was partially my fault. I could tell it was a sensitive subject, and I shouldn't have pushed, especially when you were already stressed out from worrying about me. So I'm sorry for that. Can you forgive me for my part?"
He smiled then, a real one, and lifted their joined hands, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand before pulling it away and covering it with his other hand. "We really are a pair," he murmured, shaking his head fondly before giving her a warm look. "Of course I forgive you."
"There you are, then," she said with a proud smile. "Fixed in less than two minutes. That is an excellent record to have." She paused. "Or at least I think it is - I don't exactly have an understanding of what they should be. Is it bad that it was less than two minutes?"
"On the contrary, I'd say that that's pretty good," he countered. "Our first fight was resolved within minutes, and we both acknowledged ourselves to be at fault. That's gotta be better than most relationships go."
"Yeah, but where's all the drama?" she argued, waving her free hand exaggeratedly in the air. "I mean, neither of us even got the chance to pout! And what about sobbing dramatically on opposite sides of a closed door, or bringing up mistakes that happened months ago and were supposedly forgotten? What about eating chocolate and ice cream while watching movies that make you cry, or throwing yourself onto your bed like a Disney princess and screaming into your pillow?"
He bit back a smile as he leaned backwards in his chair. "Well for starters, you should stay away from dairy until tomorrow at the earliest, so no ice cream, I'm afraid. And for another, you're already in bed, so I don't know how well throwing yourself on top of it would work. Not to mention that screaming and sobbing isn't very restful for a convalescing patient," he raised an eyebrow.
"See, that's why that sort of thing will never happen!" she sighed, moving to cross her arms before realizing that she would have to let go of his hand to do that, and dropping her arms awkwardly on the blanket once more. "You're too nice, and I like you too much to actually want to fight."
His mouth twitched. "Well, at least you can pout," he said indulgently, indicating her expression. "And I like you too much to want to fight with you, too. There. You see? Problem solved. We can have much more fun when we're not pretending to be angry with each other."
"I guess," she reluctantly agreed, drawing it out as if the admission physically pained her. "If we have to. On one condition."
"And what's that?" he asked, looking far too amused.
"You have to take me to the library," she bargained, shifting on the bed. "And before you say anything, I don't plan on walking anywhere - you can carry me, and then I can rest on the couch and read. But if I have to stay relatively immobile for the next two days, then I'm going to make you be my chariot so that I can at least have a change of scenery. And my book and I are on a break right now, so I'm looking for something new," she added, giving said book a dirty look.
"Fair enough," he agreed, still fighting a smile. "Do you want to go now?"
"Nah, I'd rather go when I'm eighty. I should be allowed to walk on my own, then, right?"
"Jury's still out, I've yet to be informed of their decision," he told her airily as he released her hand and pushed her blankets aside so he could carefully scoop her up. "Your chariot awaits, madam," he teased her as he set off into the hallway.
He nudged the library door open with his foot when they reached it, and set her down on one of the couches in front of the fireplace, where a fire was burning brightly. "In light of your extenuating circumstances, the TARDIS has offered to help keep you occupied," he told her, handing her a folded lap blanket from the other end of the couch.
"Help me how?" she asked curiously.
The Doctor grinned, crouching by the table at the foot of the couch, spinning it around to reveal a shelf holding several books on it. "She's set it up so that if you're not interested in reading any of the ones currently on the shelf, you can spin it around again, and there will be a whole new set of books for you to try. This way, you don't have to wander the shelves looking for something to read and tire yourself out."
Lyssa gave the shelf an impressed look. "Each time I think the TARDIS can't get any more amazing, she goes and proves me wrong."
"She really does," he agreed. "But, to make sure she can keep being amazing, I need to go and finish the repairs. Being caught in between planes of reality did a number on her," he grimaced. "If you need me, don't hesitate to let me know. But please, tell the old girl to be gentle when she tells me! I still have a bruise from the time she dropped a Doctor-Patient care manual on my head."
He rubbed the back of his head as if remembering the pain, sending a half-hearted glare up at the ceiling when the ship seemed to hum in amusement. "Oh yeah, you think it's funny now! See how it looks when your new mainspring comes out all jumpled and... frumpy because I'm covered in bruises," he grumbled. "I bet you won't think it's so funny then."
Lyssa didn't bother trying to repress a snicker as she spread the blanket out over her lap. "I'll try and remember, but I make no promises" she told him playfully as he turned to leave. "Oh, and if you get the chance, could you send Rory in here later? He promised to play a game of chess if I agreed to distract Amy last night."
"Well, that explains a lot," he muttered, raising an eyebrow. "I think he's watching a movie with Amy right now, but they should be done in an hour, if that will work?"
She nodded, reaching out to grab a book from the shelf that looked intriguing. "That should be plenty of time for me to formulate my winning plan," she grinned deviously. "I've been reading up on chess strategies. It helps me fall asleep, and, hopefully, it'll help me win against him this time."
He grinned, offering her good luck with her plan before leaving, though not without one last look back when he reached the doors. She shooed him off before cracking open her new book and curling up against the cushion, settling into read as she waited for Rory.
When he returned to the library several hours later, he found Lyssa half-asleep on the couch, her blanket tugged up around her; and Rory and Amy on the couch opposite, Rory asleep in Amy's lap while she flipped through some magazines.
The chess board Lyssa and Rory had spent so long over had been set carefully off to one side so as to preserve the placement of the pawns - and even more carefully rearranged once Rory had fallen asleep while waiting for her to make a move, leaving the black king Rory was so fond of using laid in defeat on the board.
She cracked one eye open when she heard him talking to Amy in a low voice, but felt too tired to bother waking enough to properly greet him. She let her eyes fall shut again, and when she opened them what seemed like only moments later, she found herself back in her bedroom, nestled underneath the colors.
There was a gentle rapping at the doors before the Doctor poked his head in. "Good morning, sleepyhead," he teased with a gentle smile as she sat up in confusion, the blankets pooling around her waist. "I told you you needed to rest."
"You were not wrong," she muttered through a yawn, rubbing her eyes with one hand. "I can't remember the last time I slept that long."
"Congratulations on your win, by the way," he told her casually, leaning against her doorframe. "Rory couldn't remember the last move he'd made and spent thirty minutes trying to figure out how you won before Amy told him. He wants a rematch, by the way. Something about both of you playing by the rules this time."
She snickered as tossed aside her blankets. "Well, he's just going to have to wait," she informed him, slipping out of bed. "I'm starving, and I need a shower." She paused, shoving a frizzy curl out of her hair with a grimace. "And maybe not in that order."
"I'll see what's in the kitchen while you freshen up," he promised.
"As long as it's not more soup," she muttered. He laughed, noticeably not making any promises as he left, and she sighed.
He was not, in fact, bearing soup when he returned, and, feeling much better after a shower and a change of clothes, she greeted him with a happy smile that may or may not have been more aimed at the food than him. Fresh fruit and toast may not have been a gourmet meal, but it still tasted delicious, and she enjoyed every last bite.
She moved to set the tray on her bedside table and faltered when she noticed a familiar golden glow wrapping around her hands. "Looks like Rory will really have to wait for that rematch," she told him, raising one hand in the air.
The Doctor frowned before coming to stand by her bed, taking her hand in his. "Lyssa, this is important, all right? When you land, whichever me you land with, you must rest. This is critical. I don't care if you've landed on the moon, and it's actually an egg that's about to hatch. You stay in the TARDIS if at all possible, and do the bare minimum of movement for another twenty-four hours, understood? Otherwise you could have a major relapse, and that... that would be bad."
She nodded, giving him a reassuring smile as the glow wrapped upwards. "Find you, promptly mention I'm not going anywhere until tomorrow, whenever that may be. Got it. Catch you around, Doctor." He managed a small smile, clearly still worried, but gave her a wave before disappearing as the gold washed over her vision.
When it faded, she was just outside the console room of either Nine or Ten, judging by the coral and darkened tan coloring, and felt a pang at the realization that she might be seeing Rose again any minute.
"Right. That ought to do it," the Tenth Doctor's voice came around the corner, and she smiled, hurrying down the stairs into the room to find him popping out from underneath the console, and Rose, wearing a deep pink jacket and jeans, leaning against the railing with arms crossed as she watched him. "Let's test it out, see if she's doing any better."
"Sure she didn't just want a break from your driving?" Rose teased him, giving him a pointed look when he grumbled. "I know I'd be cross if you steered me into a big rock in the middle of nowhere."
"For the last time, there was interference from ions in the atmosphere, you're lucky we didn't wind up in the middle of a lake," he grumbled, not actually sounding that upset as he sent them off. The TARDIS did so reluctantly, groaning and wheezing more than normal, and he frowned in concern. "What's going on with you?" he muttered, reaching across the console to press a hand against the rotor.
"Maybe she's going on strike," Lyssa suggested, drawing their attention to her. "Maybe she wants the time machine equivalent of a spa day." Rose greeted her with delight, and she returned the hug eagerly, closing her eyes and remembering all too well her last tearful goodbye with the blonde.
But at last she had to pull away or risk drawing their suspicions - she was nowhere near ready nor able to even hint at Doomsday. She turned to the Doctor to give him a hug as well, unsurprised but pained to find him doing much better than he had been the last time she'd seen him, still grieving Rose's loss.
"I do have some slight bad news," she mentioned reluctantly before they could get swept up into the next adventure. "I don't know where you guys are going next, but I won't be able to join you."
"What? Why not?" the Doctor asked worriedly, scanning her up and down.
"Is something wrong?" Rose asked in concern.
She shook her head, giving them a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, really. Just recovering from something that knocked me flat on my back for a while, and I'm under strict instructions to tell you this." She turned to the Doctor. "I am not to go anywhere, and to move as little as possible until tomorrow morning at the earliest. Which means I get to spend the day lounging in my cozy bed, while you guys are out running around trying not to get eaten by the closest monster."
"You jealous?" the Doctor teased.
She sighed, shoulders sagging. "Insanely so."
And before she knew it, she'd been thoroughly tucked into her bed - with far more teasing than she considered necessary - with a book and a small monitor that allowed her to view the outside of the TARDIS. She waved them farewell with only a minimal amount of sulking that quickly vanished as she watched them step outside into what looked like the grungy interior of an old spaceship, with black graffiti scribbled onto the metal walls.
She squinted at the screen, trying to make out the words - the TARDIS wasn't translating most of them, for some reason, and the screen was oddly blurry - before giving up in frustration as the Doctor and Rose stepped up to them, glancing curiously at the writing. The screen cleared briefly, just long enough for her to make out a few words, and she felt a chill run down her spine.
"Welcome to Hell," Rose read slowly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Lyssa is conveniently unaware that all of the dramatic effects she listed are primarily things that happen when couples fight... ;D Not that I'm saying it was a couple fight, oh no... don't they have to be a couple first for that to happen? Or something like that...
Special thanks to everyone who's voted, followed, and commented!
Thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! :)
General Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, just Lyssa.
Edited April 2023