Chapter Text
Yaz woke up from another hazy doze, her hand still entwined with the Doctor’s, the Time Lord’s thumb tracing slow, grounding circles against the back of Yaz’s hand.
Yaz blinked her eyes open, the throb in her head still present but less overwhelming then previously.
“Morning.” The Doctor said with a smile.
“Morning.” Yaz replied, a little groggy.
“Good sleep?”
“Mmhm.”
Yaz scrunched her eyes as she tried to keep awake. She could feel a bouncy, giddy energy radiating from the Doctor.
“Can I suggest something?” The Time Lord asked, clearly having been desperate to ask it for some time.
Yaz nodded.
“I don’t want you lying here worrying.” The Doctor said. “And I promised I wouldn’t go tearing off on my own either.”
She gave Yaz a small, earnest smile.
“So… we do this together.”
Yaz searched her face. Amused but confused.
“Do what?”
“Build something.” The Doctor’s eyes lit up. “The assassin’s still contained. Under a mug in the console room. Angry. Probably bored. I’d be so bored-”
A faint smile tugged at Yaz’s mouth.
“Doctor.”
“Yes. Right. Sorry. But it’s too small and too slippery to interrogate safely. Can’t speak to us either.” She squeezed Yaz’s hand. “So, I was thinking… a jar.”
Yaz blinked.
“A jar.”
“With some enhancements obviously.”
“Okay, let’s go build your special-”
“Enhanced.”
“Enhanced jar.” She said. “But you’re walking me there.”
“Non-negotiable.” The Doctor agreed immediately.
She stood first, slow and careful, then offered an arm to Yaz.
“M’lady.”
Despite the fact it was clearly a joke, Yaz felt butterflies in her stomach. Yaz wobbled, as the Doctor helped her up. She instinctively grabbed for the Time Lord, and the Doctor’s arm came firmly around her waist, steady and warm.
“I’ve got you, Yaz.” The Doctor’s voice was quiet and sincere. “Always.”
They walked to the workshop together, slowly, with the Doctor supporting Yaz. Lights flickered on as they entered, bathing the space in a soft, familiar glow. Half-built contraptions littered every surface. Wires coiled like nests. Tools lay exactly where only the Doctor could ever find them again.
The Doctor helped Yaz onto a chair before immediately launching into motion.
“Oh this is going to be fun.” She said, already rummaging through a drawer. “Haven’t built one of these in ages. Last time was a psychic leech. No. That makes it sound like they eat your thoughts. These ones drank blood too - but they liked to have a psychic chat while they did it. Loved a natter, those leeches. Lovely guys, but I only had so much blood.”
“Of course.” Yaz said dryly.
They fell into an easy rhythm.
The Doctor darted and spun between workbenches, narrating half her thoughts for Yaz, hands moving quick and sure as she soldered and rewired. Sparks flared briefly. The faint smell of warmed metal filled the air. Her eyes were bright with unmistakable joy.
Yaz watched her with quiet awe. The way she always did when the Doctor was like this.
Alive. Brilliant. Happy.
“You love this.” Yaz said softly.
The Doctor didn’t look up at first, adjusting a dial with exaggerated care.
“I do.” She admitted. “Making things. Fixing things. Turning ‘oh no’ into ‘oh that’s clever.’”
She glanced over to Yaz, grin widening just slightly.
“And I like that you’re helping.”
Yaz huffed faintly.
“I’m sat on a chair trying not to fall off it. I’m not helping at all.”
The Doctor straightened slightly at that, giving her a look that was almost offended.
“Oi.” She said gently. “Don’t underestimate strategic moral support. Very advanced technique.”
Yaz rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.
The Doctor’s expression softened and she crossed the room with a small component in hand and paused in front of Yaz.
“Hold this steady for me?” The Doctor asked.
Yaz reached out. Their fingers brushed as the Doctor passed it over. The Doctor’s hand lingered a fraction longer than necessary before retreating. Yaz felt the warmth of it even after it was gone.
“There.” The Doctor murmured, softer now. “See? You’re absolutely essential to the whole operation.”
Yaz swallowed, focusing very hard on the component in her hand.
“I like seeing you like this.” She said after a moment.
“Like what?” The Doctor asked, tilting her head.
“Relaxed. Like nothing’s chasing you. Like you’re not about to bolt toward the next disaster.”
The Doctor studied her for a second. Then she stepped closer again, just within reach, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Yaz’s ear, while the human’s hands were occupied. The gesture was gentle. Careful. Her fingers smoothed Yaz’s hair absently, like she couldn’t help herself.
“I don’t feel like bolting.” She said quietly. “Not right now.”
Yaz’s breath caught. The Doctor’s hand lingered in Yaz’s hair for half a heartbeat too long before she seemed to remember herself and stepped back, turning quickly to slot the final piece into the jar.
“Well,” she added lightly, though her voice had softened, “I like being here. With you. Feels like there’s nothing else in the universe. Just us.”
The words hung between them. Yaz’s throat bobbed.
The jar hummed to life in the Doctor’s hands, a soft blue glow blooming through the glass, steady and contained. Neither of them spoke for a moment. Just the hum of the TARDIS. The faint crackle of residual energy. The awareness of how close they’d been standing.
“Done.” The Doctor said at last, quieter than before.
Then, with a flicker of her usual brightness returning:
“Right then! Ready to interrogate a murdery earwig?”
Yaz smiled, heart still racing in a way that had nothing to do with assassins.
“Ready.” she said.
Yaz smiled, pushing herself carefully to her feet. The Doctor rushed over, slipping an arm around the brunette’s waist before she could protest.
“Still walking you.”
“Thank you.” Yaz said, gripping the Doctor’s arm.
They moved out of the workshop slowly, the Doctor adjusting her pace without thinking. Yaz leaned into her, not entirely because she had to.
The TARDIS corridors felt warmer now. Lived-in. Safe.
“Still ready?” The Doctor asked softly as the console room doors came into view. “No shame if you don’t want to deal with it.
Yaz took a breath.
“No. I’m ready.”
The doors slid open.
The console room was dimmer than usual, lit mostly by the central column’s slow rise and fall. And there, exactly where the Doctor had left it was the cup.
Upside down. Innocuous. Waiting.
The Doctor tightened her arm slightly around Yaz’s waist. She stepped closer to the console, then paused.
“So, you lift the cup and I’ll get the bug in the jar.” She said gently, turning to Yaz “If you’re happy?”
“Okay.” Yaz nodded.
The Doctor shifted the jar into position, field already humming faintly. She kept one arm loosely at Yaz’s back, steadying her.
“On three?” Yaz asked.
“On three.” the Doctor agreed.
“One… two… three.”
Yaz lifted the cup.
Nothing moved. Nothing skittered. Just a void.
The Doctor froze. The hum of the TARDIS seemed suddenly too loud.
“No.” She whispered.
Yaz’s stomach dropped.
Behind them, from somewhere in the shadows, the sound of boots against metal.
They turned.
Dan stepped forward into the low light.
Sweat slicked his brow. His breathing came shallow and uneven. His pupils were blown wide, his expression eerily calm. Wrong.
In his hand was the knife. The same poisoned blade that Yaz had been forced to use.
His gaze locked onto the Doctor. Flat. Focused.
“You need to step away from Yaz.” He said, pointing the knife at the Doctor. “You’re hurting her.”
The Doctor’s eyes flicked to Yaz for half a second, calculating. Then she moved. She guided Yaz backward with steady hands until the human’s back met the console. The Doctor pressed her gently but firmly against it.
“Hold on to the rail.” She murmured, low and urgent. “Don’t move. I’ve got this.”
Yaz’s fingers fumbled for the edge of the console, knuckles white as she gripped it, legs still unreliable beneath her.
The Doctor stepped away. Deliberately putting distance between them.
“Dan.” She said, calm but sharp now. “It’s not you. Put the knife down.”
“You’re killing her.”
Dan replied. His voice trembled, but his grip didn’t.
“I won’t let you get her.”
The Doctor spread her hands slightly. No weapon. No shield.
“No one is hurting Yaz.” she said. “Least of all me.”
Dan’s jaw tightened. And then he moved. A sudden, explosive charge across the metal floor. The knife aimed straight for the Doctor’s chest.
No vest. No barrier. No time.
“Doctor!” Yaz screamed.
The blade was inches away-