Convergence [5/6]
Title: Convergence
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Bialar Crais, Donna Noble, guest appearences from various others
Timeline/spoilers: post-ITLD for Crais, pre-TEoT for Donna
Summary: Having survived the contained Starburst, Bialar Crais follows a strange transmission across the galaxy, only to find the source is Crichton's home planet... and a woman called Donna Noble.
One | Two | Three | Four
Five: Leavetaking
“His name was John Crichton.”
That innocuous statement had been followed by a story that left Donna wordless, though she supposed that it went some way to explaining Bialar’s prickly nature. She sat with her hands around her mug, the warm sides barely registering through the numbness of shock and awe and heartache. His words echoed through her head.
“We weren’t meant to survive, didn’t expect to. It didn’t matter.”
Soft words that almost belayed the edge of coldness his tone had held. He hid it well - the hurt, the anger, the grief - but she saw it anyway. She’d spent too much time with the Doctor and she knew when “alright” meant anything but. And Bialar Crais was a long, long way from being alright. More than before, she realised that he needed someone and that firmed her resolve.
Donna stared into her mug, thought of her Mum and Granddad. A lump formed in her throat and she lifted her hands, gulped at the hot liquid. It burnt a path down to her stomach but did nothing to settle its churning. She lifted her gaze again.
Bialar had risen during his story and was stood by the window. He was all of five yards away. It felt more like five miles. She looked at his face; the moulded, blank expression, the slight, defiant lift to his chin, and her heart went out to him.
Setting the mug down on the table, she pushed her chair back and stood up. Crossed the distance and reached out, curled a hand around his arm. He didn’t react, just stood and stared out as the Earth spun slowly beneath them.
After a moment, she spoke. “You know, it is okay to be… not okay.”
He snorted softly. “I am okay.”
“Bollocks,” she snapped. “You aren’t and I wouldn’t expect you to be either. Come off it, Bialar. No one would be after all of that.”
“Perhaps not.” He shrugged a shoulder. “But what would tears change? Nothing, Donna. So pardon me if I settle for just trying to survive.”
She opened her mouth to retort, but then caught the expression on his face and thought better of it. Realising that he wasn’t ready to hear what she had to say, she gave up with a muted sigh and looked out of the window again.
“Can you get me back down there?” she asked. “There are one or two things that I need.” She remembered packing the car, ready in case she met the Doctor in that year she had spent looking for him, and closed her eyes.
“What’s the matter?” Bialar asked.
“Nothing.” Two could play at that game. “I’m fine.”
“Which is why your fingers are digging into my arm.”
She glanced down and saw that her knuckles were white. “Sorry.” She relaxed her grip.
“Primitive as your planet’s tracking systems are, it’ll be harder to evade them a second time but not impossible.”
Donna absorbed that information with a nod. “Can we go now?” She thought about the idea. “Do you have something alcoholic on this ship?”
Bialar turned, his eyebrows lifting. “Why?”
“Just answer the bloody question.”
“I do, yes, but I don’t-”
“I’ll need it later.” She took a deep breath and tore her eyes from the world outside the window. “Let’s go; I want to get this over with sooner rather than later.”
“Alright,” he said evenly. He headed to the door and she followed him, trying to ignore the sinking sensation in her stomach.
As they walked down the corridor, she debated the wisdom of what she was doing. Was she being selfish? What would her leaving do to her mother and grandfather? How would they explain her disappearance? Her steps slowed and she stared at her feet, chewing on her bottom lip. When she looked up, her gaze settled on Bialar’s back.
“Just... promise me one thing; find someone.”
A sad smile touched her lips as she remembered her words to the Doctor. He had needed someone, just as Bialar did. And he had found her. She straightened and hurried after him, catching up just as he reached the hanger bay. He paused and glanced at her.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked, not clarifying if he meant her going down to the planet or with him. Either way, she was sure.
“Yes,” she said. She hoped it sounded more firm than she thought it did. Bialar nodded and took her elbow, leading her across the floor to the half-cylinder shaped craft that sat there. She frowned at it. “Well, that’s ugly.”
“It’s created for a purpose,” he replied and pressed a button on the side. A hatch slid upwards. “Specifically transporting people and goods. It doesn’t need to be aesthetically pleasing.”
“I suppose not.”
She went in and looked around. The ship had two definite sections; the rear, which she guessed was where the people or goods were kept during flight, and the cockpit - or whatever he called it. Bialar took the left seat. She slid into the one on the right and watched his hands move over the controls. She looked for seatbelts and found none, which was a little concerning. Not that she thought he’d crash, but…
“Talyn, open the hanger door,” he ordered and the wall in front of her moved, opened to reveal the blackness of space. Her stomach dropped into her toes as the ship lifted up and she grabbed the curved console. Bialar looked at her. “Are you okay?”
She’d done this before; it was no different to opening the door of the TARDIS. Come on Donna, get a grip, she thought furiously and swallowed hard.
“Yes,” she said. It came out as a squeak. The whole ship tilted on its axis and it dived, sending her stomach into her throat. “Shit!”
Bialar chuckled. She tore her eyes off the rapidly-approaching planet and glared at him. Drawing in a shuddering breath, she loosened her grip on the console and whacked him on the arm.
“That was not funny!”
“I thought that you were used to travelling in space,” he returned, his tone slightly smug.
“You complete…” Her angry retort died as her gaze went back to the window. Gliding in orbit above the Earth was a red-black spaceship with all the beauty and grace that the transport pod was missing. “Oh my God,” she whispered and shifted forward in her seat, her nervousness forgotten. “Is that Talyn?”
“It certainly is.” There was considerable pride in his voice. “What do you think?”
What did she think? “The TARDIS is a blue box,” she said. “Okay, it’s bigger and prettier on the inside, but…” She turned back to Bialar. “He’s beautiful.”
He smiled at that; a proper smile rather than the usual snarky smirk, one that lit his entire face and made him look suddenly much younger. The difference startled her and she blinked.
“I am glad that you like him.”
Donna got the distinct impression he hadn’t meant to say that, rather that he’d been aiming at something sarcastic but lost it along the way. She smiled back at him.
“So, Flyboy, we gonna land or what?”
The smile remained but his eyebrows lifted and a definite look of mischief crossed his face. “Are you questioning my ability?”
“And what if I were?”
His eyes narrowed and his hands shifted on the control. The world flipped upside down, making her grab the console again, though the sheer momentum of the manoeuvre held her in the seat.
Like a bloody rollercoaster, she thought. Just without the tracks. Well, that just meant there was nothing for them to come off. It wasn’t likely that they’d hit anything either, though they might just crash… A squeal escaped her as he put the pod into another dive, but it was more surprise than fright; the way he handled the controls assured her that he knew exactly what he was doing. She threw him a look and giggled.
“Pillock,” she said. “Utter twonk.”
“Does that mean that you’re impressed?” He smirked at her.
“Very. Now stop pratting about before you attract attention and we get nuked down or something.” She smoothed her trousers, surreptitiously drying the sweat on her palms and licked her lips. Glancing over, she saw him watching her, a knowing expression on his face. “Don’t even think it, mate. Just land this bloody thing.”
~ ~ ~
Having been born and raised on a planet, Bialar was familiar to the concept of houses, even though Donna’s didn’t resemble any he’d ever seen. He followed her up the stairs in muted darkness; she’d refused to turn on the lights in case they woke her family. Thinking of that, he again wondered why she was so willing to leave the comfort and security of her home. He’d seen into her mind. Briefly to be sure, but he’d glimpsed enough fragmented memories to have persuaded him to stay put. Perhaps he was missing something.
Donna opened a door and ushered him in. She closed it behind him and flicked a switch. He blinked as a sudden light flooded the room. She was already across the room and opening more doors. He saw clothes hanging on a rail before something hit him in the face.
“Put that on the bed would you?” she asked, absorbed in picking out clothes.
“That” turned out to be a large bag. He put it on the bed and worked the zipper round to open it. Donna dumped an armful of clothes in. “Thanks.”
“Anything else I can do to help?” he asked her.
“Keep half an ear out for my mother,” she replied, unhooking a heavy coat from a hanger. “I’d rather get out of the house without a lecture, thank you very much.”
“As you wish.”
He leaned up against the door and watched her select a few more garments. Her expression was distant as she folded them and placed them in the bag. She looked… troubled.
“You can still change your mind,” he said quietly. “I would not think any less of you.”
She paused, eyes on the bag, and made a visible effort to control herself. After a moment she spoke, her voice low and barely audible.
“I can’t,” she murmured. “I can’t stay here, Bialar. Not now I remember that year and… everything. I wouldn’t be able to settle. There’s just… not enough for me here.”
“But your family…”
“Do you think less of me for leaving them?” She looked up then, meeting his gaze. Though he could tell her mind was made up, it was obvious that she still regretted the decision.
“It has nothing to do with me,” he dismissed the question.
Donna stood up straight. “It does. Your opinion matters to me.”
“It shouldn’t.”
“Just answer me this; do you think I’m being selfish?”
That made him snort. He had been selfish. He had manipulated and lied and cheated. “I am hardly the person to ask about that.”
“Well, it’s not like I can ask anyone else,” she pointed out. He sighed, accepting the truth of that statement.
“Sometimes it is necessary to be selfish,” he said. “I think this is one of those times.”
“This-” She waved at the bag. “-is hardly necessary.”
Bialar smiled slightly at her. “It is if I need you.”
Her eyes widened and she gaped at him, then realisation flooded her face, quickly followed by relief. “Oh! Oh that. Yes.”
“Whatever did you think I meant?” he asked innocently. Her eyes narrowed and she threw a pillow at his head. It missed by a fair margin, but he suspected that she’d not really intended to hit him. When he straightened and looked at her, he noticed that some of the tension had left her. “I thought we were supposed to be keeping quiet.”
“Well stop bloody winding me up then,” she retorted and went back to packing. He smirked but kept his mouth closed. After a few microns, she zipped the bag up and looked at him. “Ready as I’m ever going to be.”
He moved from the door as she came over and took the bag. She gave him an odd look, then shrugged and turned off the light. They slipped downstairs soundlessly, but just as they reached the door, he heard the soft click of a door opening.
Donna froze and sent him a panicked look.
“Donna?” a man’s voice called out. “Donna, is that you?”
She stood there, eyes wide and pained. “Oh God, no.”
“What?” he hissed at her. The light above them bloomed on. Bialar turned to see an old man on the stairs.
“Donna!” he exclaimed. “Where have you been?”
“Granddad,” Donna said, her voice breaking. “What are you doing up?”
The man leant on the rail as he came down the last few stairs. Bialar found himself fixed with a wary, suspicious glare, which then shifted to Donna. “Sweetheart, what’s going on? Your mum said you’d disappeared last night. That you’d gone after…” The glare returned. “After some bloke.”
“It’s okay,” she assured, interposing herself between him and the other man. “I’m okay. I’m just… going away for a while.”
“With him? Who is he? Hang on, he said something about… changing.”
“No,” Donna said, her voice sharp. “It’s not like that. He left me, Granddad. I remember that now.”
Bialar realised they were talking about the man Donna had travelled with, but wasn’t sure how he fitted in to the conversation. He put a hand on her arm. She shook her head but didn’t look back. He lifted his eyes back to her grandfather, who was watching her with clear grief on his face.
“I’m sorry, Donna,” he said. “I wanted to tell you, but he said that… that it would kill you. I don’t understand how you can remember. Was he lying?”
“No,” she said, then shifted minutely backwards. Bialar moved the strap of the bag on his shoulder to free his other hand, then placed it on the small of her back. He felt more than heard her soft sigh, and the muscles under his palm rippled with tension. “It doesn’t matter how, but I remember and I’m okay.”
Her grandfather came over and caught her in a hug. Bialar watched, tempted to drop the bag and leave; after all she would be safer here. But not better, he thought then. It was her decision and he would abide by it.
“Hey you.” Her grandfather’s tart voice brought him out of his reverie. “Whoever you are, you take good care of my granddaughter, right?”
Bialar knew the man would not understand him, so settled for nodding seriously. He looked a silent question at Donna.
“Give me a minute, would you?”
“I’ll be outside,” he said softly. Her expression went wary. “Waiting,” he added and she relaxed somewhat. As he headed out, he heard her grandfather asking; “You understand him?” Her response was lost to the sound of the door closing.
Bialar wandered down the path, dropped the bag and leant his hands on the little gate. The night was cool - a blessed relief after the stuffy warmth of the house - and it carried the faint smell of rain. He glanced up at the sky. Clouds obscured his view of the stars. He looked around again. The thoroughfare was covered in some material that he didn’t recognise, but the wheeled boxes were clearly some sort of transport. Primitive and not very effective, he was sure.
Yet there was something about being… perhaps just on a planet rather than Earth specifically, that he found familiar enough to be comfortable. Then again, since no one here knew who he was or what he had been, maybe it was Earth. Not that he would stay… no, he wanted to be out there again. Rather suddenly, he understood exactly what was motivating Donna to accompany him. It made him adjust a couple of assumptions he’d made, and he’d thought that he had gotten over doing such things.
There was a soft noise behind him. He pushed himself up as the door opened and light pooled out. Donna emerged, her face pale and tear-streaked. She cast him a rather desperate look and he hastened back to the house as she closed the door. She rested her forehead against it. He didn’t know what else to do, so took her hand. Her fingers tightened on his.
“Bialar,” she said miserably.
“I know.” He squeezed her fingers. “I know.”
“God, I’m a selfish cow. This is going to hurt them so much.”
“You’ll hurt if you stay.”
She turned then and stepped closer, buried her face against his chest. Her body trembled and he had no doubt that she was crying. He had learnt a little about offering comfort so still holding her hand, he put his other arm around her. After a moment, she took a deep, shuddering breath in and lifted her head.
“Yeah, you’re right,” she said. “I would.”
“Time to be selfish?” he suggested. She nodded. He offered her a small smile and released her. Picking up the bag, he swung it over his shoulder and then opened the gate, ushering her through and she walked out onto the street.
He fell in beside her as they went back to where he’d left the transport pod. Glancing at her face and seeing the sad expression there, he found her hand again, linking his fingers with hers. Oddly enough, she didn’t complain. She just looked at him and, after a microt, her lips curved into a smile.
On to part 6 (final)
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Bialar Crais, Donna Noble, guest appearences from various others
Timeline/spoilers: post-ITLD for Crais, pre-TEoT for Donna
Summary: Having survived the contained Starburst, Bialar Crais follows a strange transmission across the galaxy, only to find the source is Crichton's home planet... and a woman called Donna Noble.
One | Two | Three | Four
Five: Leavetaking
“His name was John Crichton.”
That innocuous statement had been followed by a story that left Donna wordless, though she supposed that it went some way to explaining Bialar’s prickly nature. She sat with her hands around her mug, the warm sides barely registering through the numbness of shock and awe and heartache. His words echoed through her head.
“We weren’t meant to survive, didn’t expect to. It didn’t matter.”
Soft words that almost belayed the edge of coldness his tone had held. He hid it well - the hurt, the anger, the grief - but she saw it anyway. She’d spent too much time with the Doctor and she knew when “alright” meant anything but. And Bialar Crais was a long, long way from being alright. More than before, she realised that he needed someone and that firmed her resolve.
Donna stared into her mug, thought of her Mum and Granddad. A lump formed in her throat and she lifted her hands, gulped at the hot liquid. It burnt a path down to her stomach but did nothing to settle its churning. She lifted her gaze again.
Bialar had risen during his story and was stood by the window. He was all of five yards away. It felt more like five miles. She looked at his face; the moulded, blank expression, the slight, defiant lift to his chin, and her heart went out to him.
Setting the mug down on the table, she pushed her chair back and stood up. Crossed the distance and reached out, curled a hand around his arm. He didn’t react, just stood and stared out as the Earth spun slowly beneath them.
After a moment, she spoke. “You know, it is okay to be… not okay.”
He snorted softly. “I am okay.”
“Bollocks,” she snapped. “You aren’t and I wouldn’t expect you to be either. Come off it, Bialar. No one would be after all of that.”
“Perhaps not.” He shrugged a shoulder. “But what would tears change? Nothing, Donna. So pardon me if I settle for just trying to survive.”
She opened her mouth to retort, but then caught the expression on his face and thought better of it. Realising that he wasn’t ready to hear what she had to say, she gave up with a muted sigh and looked out of the window again.
“Can you get me back down there?” she asked. “There are one or two things that I need.” She remembered packing the car, ready in case she met the Doctor in that year she had spent looking for him, and closed her eyes.
“What’s the matter?” Bialar asked.
“Nothing.” Two could play at that game. “I’m fine.”
“Which is why your fingers are digging into my arm.”
She glanced down and saw that her knuckles were white. “Sorry.” She relaxed her grip.
“Primitive as your planet’s tracking systems are, it’ll be harder to evade them a second time but not impossible.”
Donna absorbed that information with a nod. “Can we go now?” She thought about the idea. “Do you have something alcoholic on this ship?”
Bialar turned, his eyebrows lifting. “Why?”
“Just answer the bloody question.”
“I do, yes, but I don’t-”
“I’ll need it later.” She took a deep breath and tore her eyes from the world outside the window. “Let’s go; I want to get this over with sooner rather than later.”
“Alright,” he said evenly. He headed to the door and she followed him, trying to ignore the sinking sensation in her stomach.
As they walked down the corridor, she debated the wisdom of what she was doing. Was she being selfish? What would her leaving do to her mother and grandfather? How would they explain her disappearance? Her steps slowed and she stared at her feet, chewing on her bottom lip. When she looked up, her gaze settled on Bialar’s back.
“Just... promise me one thing; find someone.”
A sad smile touched her lips as she remembered her words to the Doctor. He had needed someone, just as Bialar did. And he had found her. She straightened and hurried after him, catching up just as he reached the hanger bay. He paused and glanced at her.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked, not clarifying if he meant her going down to the planet or with him. Either way, she was sure.
“Yes,” she said. She hoped it sounded more firm than she thought it did. Bialar nodded and took her elbow, leading her across the floor to the half-cylinder shaped craft that sat there. She frowned at it. “Well, that’s ugly.”
“It’s created for a purpose,” he replied and pressed a button on the side. A hatch slid upwards. “Specifically transporting people and goods. It doesn’t need to be aesthetically pleasing.”
“I suppose not.”
She went in and looked around. The ship had two definite sections; the rear, which she guessed was where the people or goods were kept during flight, and the cockpit - or whatever he called it. Bialar took the left seat. She slid into the one on the right and watched his hands move over the controls. She looked for seatbelts and found none, which was a little concerning. Not that she thought he’d crash, but…
“Talyn, open the hanger door,” he ordered and the wall in front of her moved, opened to reveal the blackness of space. Her stomach dropped into her toes as the ship lifted up and she grabbed the curved console. Bialar looked at her. “Are you okay?”
She’d done this before; it was no different to opening the door of the TARDIS. Come on Donna, get a grip, she thought furiously and swallowed hard.
“Yes,” she said. It came out as a squeak. The whole ship tilted on its axis and it dived, sending her stomach into her throat. “Shit!”
Bialar chuckled. She tore her eyes off the rapidly-approaching planet and glared at him. Drawing in a shuddering breath, she loosened her grip on the console and whacked him on the arm.
“That was not funny!”
“I thought that you were used to travelling in space,” he returned, his tone slightly smug.
“You complete…” Her angry retort died as her gaze went back to the window. Gliding in orbit above the Earth was a red-black spaceship with all the beauty and grace that the transport pod was missing. “Oh my God,” she whispered and shifted forward in her seat, her nervousness forgotten. “Is that Talyn?”
“It certainly is.” There was considerable pride in his voice. “What do you think?”
What did she think? “The TARDIS is a blue box,” she said. “Okay, it’s bigger and prettier on the inside, but…” She turned back to Bialar. “He’s beautiful.”
He smiled at that; a proper smile rather than the usual snarky smirk, one that lit his entire face and made him look suddenly much younger. The difference startled her and she blinked.
“I am glad that you like him.”
Donna got the distinct impression he hadn’t meant to say that, rather that he’d been aiming at something sarcastic but lost it along the way. She smiled back at him.
“So, Flyboy, we gonna land or what?”
The smile remained but his eyebrows lifted and a definite look of mischief crossed his face. “Are you questioning my ability?”
“And what if I were?”
His eyes narrowed and his hands shifted on the control. The world flipped upside down, making her grab the console again, though the sheer momentum of the manoeuvre held her in the seat.
Like a bloody rollercoaster, she thought. Just without the tracks. Well, that just meant there was nothing for them to come off. It wasn’t likely that they’d hit anything either, though they might just crash… A squeal escaped her as he put the pod into another dive, but it was more surprise than fright; the way he handled the controls assured her that he knew exactly what he was doing. She threw him a look and giggled.
“Pillock,” she said. “Utter twonk.”
“Does that mean that you’re impressed?” He smirked at her.
“Very. Now stop pratting about before you attract attention and we get nuked down or something.” She smoothed her trousers, surreptitiously drying the sweat on her palms and licked her lips. Glancing over, she saw him watching her, a knowing expression on his face. “Don’t even think it, mate. Just land this bloody thing.”
~ ~ ~
Having been born and raised on a planet, Bialar was familiar to the concept of houses, even though Donna’s didn’t resemble any he’d ever seen. He followed her up the stairs in muted darkness; she’d refused to turn on the lights in case they woke her family. Thinking of that, he again wondered why she was so willing to leave the comfort and security of her home. He’d seen into her mind. Briefly to be sure, but he’d glimpsed enough fragmented memories to have persuaded him to stay put. Perhaps he was missing something.
Donna opened a door and ushered him in. She closed it behind him and flicked a switch. He blinked as a sudden light flooded the room. She was already across the room and opening more doors. He saw clothes hanging on a rail before something hit him in the face.
“Put that on the bed would you?” she asked, absorbed in picking out clothes.
“That” turned out to be a large bag. He put it on the bed and worked the zipper round to open it. Donna dumped an armful of clothes in. “Thanks.”
“Anything else I can do to help?” he asked her.
“Keep half an ear out for my mother,” she replied, unhooking a heavy coat from a hanger. “I’d rather get out of the house without a lecture, thank you very much.”
“As you wish.”
He leaned up against the door and watched her select a few more garments. Her expression was distant as she folded them and placed them in the bag. She looked… troubled.
“You can still change your mind,” he said quietly. “I would not think any less of you.”
She paused, eyes on the bag, and made a visible effort to control herself. After a moment she spoke, her voice low and barely audible.
“I can’t,” she murmured. “I can’t stay here, Bialar. Not now I remember that year and… everything. I wouldn’t be able to settle. There’s just… not enough for me here.”
“But your family…”
“Do you think less of me for leaving them?” She looked up then, meeting his gaze. Though he could tell her mind was made up, it was obvious that she still regretted the decision.
“It has nothing to do with me,” he dismissed the question.
Donna stood up straight. “It does. Your opinion matters to me.”
“It shouldn’t.”
“Just answer me this; do you think I’m being selfish?”
That made him snort. He had been selfish. He had manipulated and lied and cheated. “I am hardly the person to ask about that.”
“Well, it’s not like I can ask anyone else,” she pointed out. He sighed, accepting the truth of that statement.
“Sometimes it is necessary to be selfish,” he said. “I think this is one of those times.”
“This-” She waved at the bag. “-is hardly necessary.”
Bialar smiled slightly at her. “It is if I need you.”
Her eyes widened and she gaped at him, then realisation flooded her face, quickly followed by relief. “Oh! Oh that. Yes.”
“Whatever did you think I meant?” he asked innocently. Her eyes narrowed and she threw a pillow at his head. It missed by a fair margin, but he suspected that she’d not really intended to hit him. When he straightened and looked at her, he noticed that some of the tension had left her. “I thought we were supposed to be keeping quiet.”
“Well stop bloody winding me up then,” she retorted and went back to packing. He smirked but kept his mouth closed. After a few microns, she zipped the bag up and looked at him. “Ready as I’m ever going to be.”
He moved from the door as she came over and took the bag. She gave him an odd look, then shrugged and turned off the light. They slipped downstairs soundlessly, but just as they reached the door, he heard the soft click of a door opening.
Donna froze and sent him a panicked look.
“Donna?” a man’s voice called out. “Donna, is that you?”
She stood there, eyes wide and pained. “Oh God, no.”
“What?” he hissed at her. The light above them bloomed on. Bialar turned to see an old man on the stairs.
“Donna!” he exclaimed. “Where have you been?”
“Granddad,” Donna said, her voice breaking. “What are you doing up?”
The man leant on the rail as he came down the last few stairs. Bialar found himself fixed with a wary, suspicious glare, which then shifted to Donna. “Sweetheart, what’s going on? Your mum said you’d disappeared last night. That you’d gone after…” The glare returned. “After some bloke.”
“It’s okay,” she assured, interposing herself between him and the other man. “I’m okay. I’m just… going away for a while.”
“With him? Who is he? Hang on, he said something about… changing.”
“No,” Donna said, her voice sharp. “It’s not like that. He left me, Granddad. I remember that now.”
Bialar realised they were talking about the man Donna had travelled with, but wasn’t sure how he fitted in to the conversation. He put a hand on her arm. She shook her head but didn’t look back. He lifted his eyes back to her grandfather, who was watching her with clear grief on his face.
“I’m sorry, Donna,” he said. “I wanted to tell you, but he said that… that it would kill you. I don’t understand how you can remember. Was he lying?”
“No,” she said, then shifted minutely backwards. Bialar moved the strap of the bag on his shoulder to free his other hand, then placed it on the small of her back. He felt more than heard her soft sigh, and the muscles under his palm rippled with tension. “It doesn’t matter how, but I remember and I’m okay.”
Her grandfather came over and caught her in a hug. Bialar watched, tempted to drop the bag and leave; after all she would be safer here. But not better, he thought then. It was her decision and he would abide by it.
“Hey you.” Her grandfather’s tart voice brought him out of his reverie. “Whoever you are, you take good care of my granddaughter, right?”
Bialar knew the man would not understand him, so settled for nodding seriously. He looked a silent question at Donna.
“Give me a minute, would you?”
“I’ll be outside,” he said softly. Her expression went wary. “Waiting,” he added and she relaxed somewhat. As he headed out, he heard her grandfather asking; “You understand him?” Her response was lost to the sound of the door closing.
Bialar wandered down the path, dropped the bag and leant his hands on the little gate. The night was cool - a blessed relief after the stuffy warmth of the house - and it carried the faint smell of rain. He glanced up at the sky. Clouds obscured his view of the stars. He looked around again. The thoroughfare was covered in some material that he didn’t recognise, but the wheeled boxes were clearly some sort of transport. Primitive and not very effective, he was sure.
Yet there was something about being… perhaps just on a planet rather than Earth specifically, that he found familiar enough to be comfortable. Then again, since no one here knew who he was or what he had been, maybe it was Earth. Not that he would stay… no, he wanted to be out there again. Rather suddenly, he understood exactly what was motivating Donna to accompany him. It made him adjust a couple of assumptions he’d made, and he’d thought that he had gotten over doing such things.
There was a soft noise behind him. He pushed himself up as the door opened and light pooled out. Donna emerged, her face pale and tear-streaked. She cast him a rather desperate look and he hastened back to the house as she closed the door. She rested her forehead against it. He didn’t know what else to do, so took her hand. Her fingers tightened on his.
“Bialar,” she said miserably.
“I know.” He squeezed her fingers. “I know.”
“God, I’m a selfish cow. This is going to hurt them so much.”
“You’ll hurt if you stay.”
She turned then and stepped closer, buried her face against his chest. Her body trembled and he had no doubt that she was crying. He had learnt a little about offering comfort so still holding her hand, he put his other arm around her. After a moment, she took a deep, shuddering breath in and lifted her head.
“Yeah, you’re right,” she said. “I would.”
“Time to be selfish?” he suggested. She nodded. He offered her a small smile and released her. Picking up the bag, he swung it over his shoulder and then opened the gate, ushering her through and she walked out onto the street.
He fell in beside her as they went back to where he’d left the transport pod. Glancing at her face and seeing the sad expression there, he found her hand again, linking his fingers with hers. Oddly enough, she didn’t complain. She just looked at him and, after a microt, her lips curved into a smile.
On to part 6 (final)