“Alba!” The Doctor called to the girl of sixteen years, “Are you ready for some fun in the dual suns of Elberanthiatriopsianithiacs?”
“Alba?” the Doctor called afraid to hear the answer from behind the door that was eerily glaring at him, just daring him to turn the knob. But, he was still that same teenage rebel who had befriended the Master and the Rani during his years at the Academy. The Doctor was suddenly whisked back to his days wearing the deep red robes of his ancestors and…the Doctor took a big gulp of air and opened the door,
“You’re not my father.” Alba whispered from her fetal pose in one of the corners of her bedroom. She was curled up on the opposite side of the room from her bunk beds and had ripped her hammock from the wall the dinosaur wallpaper had not yet been cleaned by the TARDIS and footmarks from Alba’s trainers covered them.
The Doctor sighed, this again? What a silly little human she was, “Well, no, Alba, of course I’m not…I’m the Doctor, remember?”
“I just,” she looked up at him, “The entire reason I even came here was because dad told me that you would take care of me. I thought, I guess we both thought, that you would be the way you were before, that you would be the same as my dad. But, instead of my daddy, I get a brash, eccentric, happy go lucky; very alien Time Lord who is a doctor only in things that don’t really matter at all!”
“Alba, please calm down, what’s wrong with you?” The Doctor asked with a bit of hurt in his voice, he had thought things had been going along just swimmingly.
“Oh, and you know what I really hate about you?” Alba was now on her feet and pointing her finger angrily at the Doctor, “You’re a playa!”
“A what?” the Doctor asked obviously confused.
“You and your whole ‘Oh, Alba, your mum meant the galaxy to me’; ‘Rose was and will always be my one and only’; ‘Your mother still haunts my dreams’! I can’t see why anyone that in love would go off and fuck some whore who you don’t even know!”
“Alba?” the Doctor raised his hand tentatively.
“Who the hell is this new fling you’ve got? She’s not even slightly pretty! At least girls like me know when they didn’t inherit the looks in the family and decide that the world would be a much better and livable place by considering others feelings and not dressing as if we have large perky boobs and slightly nice features when we don’t! My mom was gorgeous, but now you don’t even talk about her!” Alba continued and then heard an embarrassed voice come from the man in the suspenders and bowtie.
“Alba?” The Doctor squeaked, “What is fucking?”
Alba sighed and fell into a squat mimicking the Doctor’s own as she positioned herself beside him. It was a minute before she spoke again, “I keep forgetting that you really, actually aren’t my father.” She smiled at him sadly, “You are so different but, there’s this one thing you’ve both got the same.” She paused as if finished but then began to speak once again, “It’s the eyes, you see, you’ve got the same eyes.” She held his head in her hands and stared straight into the orbs situated on either side of the bridge of his nose, “Those were his eyes.” She whispered, “If everything else is different, those eyes, those are the same. Not a bit in colour, or even the same shape. No, the similarity is in the depth, the pain, the soul, those eyes hold ageless wisdom borne of the worst grief suffered by any creature I have ever meet…It’s all there in your eyes, just like it was all there in his.”
Alba dropped her hands away from the Doctor’s face and turned, breaking the moment they had shared of deep oneness the Doctor had thought he would never have the chance to experience again, not as the last Time Lord. Alba had found something important in his mind though, and he wasn’t sure if she was happy or sad with what she had found inside his head.
“So, Doctor,” Alba began, still not making eye contact, “you really don’t love anyone in that way, other than mom?”
“Alba,” The Doctor replied, “In all truthfulness, I can’t.”
“What about River? I mean, she does know your name, right?”
“Why does everyone think my name can just be told?” the Doctor laughed, “My name has become a mystery even to me. If someone were to say a name like my own it would take longer than a Time Lord could hope to live. Universes would crumble and wars would be fought before one could say my name in its fullest capacity. No, Alba, I, apparently, am going to tell River Song to look into my eyes, for some unknown reason.”
“Then why did you trust her when you first meet her?”
“I am an excellent judge of character and ‘name’ felt like a fitting cover up to tell Donna who was, shall we say, in a bit of a ‘mood’.”
“You are impossible, Doctor!” Alba laughed pushing him.
“Why don’t I make us some tea?” the Doctor asked her, standing up and brushing himself off.
“I’ll have fish sticks, thanks.” And then yelling after him, “But none of that shit you call custard, I mean, really, it’s not even frozen!”
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