Chapter 13

The **-*-* and I stared at each other.

It looked at me with what the native aliens might have called soulful puppy dog eyes, but they just managed to make it slightly less predatory. Not that I was about to tell it differently.

Is something wrong? The voice asked.

"Did you just…talk to me?" I'm going crazy. That's it, I thought. I needed that vacation more than I realized. The **-*-* just looked away and put its head down.

"What? That's it? That's all you've got to say?"

"Jennifer…" a voice began cautiously. I swirled around to find the Doctor taking a step forward. He looked so tired now. So much older. "Are you alright?"

Oh no. I look crazy. "The dog, **-*-*," and tried to cough/wheeze correctly. "Whatever. It just said something. I swear… "

Fudge, I sound crazy too. Just leave it alone, Jen. Just leave it alone.

Incorrect, the voice came back.

"What?" Now I was more confused than ever. The dog hadn't budged.

"I said, 'Are you alright?' That's all." The Doctor took another step forward. Then another.

Pay attention, it said again.

I crammed my hands over my ears and squeezed my eyes shut. I'm not crazy. I don't feel crazy. I can't be crazy.

A long, heavy sigh. The Timelord was now standing beside me, then crouched down and pulled my hands away from my ears. He looked at me sadly, but there was a bit of humor in his voice- "I haven't broken you, have I? All this running about?"

He was genuinely troubled by it, I realized. It was kind of nice, in some horrible twisted way.

You're not crazy. Pay attention, The voice reiterated. Look.

I looked up at the Doctor, his smile a mixture of nervousness and fatherly concern, looked at the **-*-*, napping by the sounds of it, and looked at the guide. The guide. Who was staring me down, much as I was staring the mutt down just a moment ago.

Figure it out yet?

"It's you…" I whispered.

The Doctor tilted his head. "You, what? What have I done?" He looked at the guide, then back at me. Then at the guide. Back at me. The gears almost visibly clicked into place and he settled back on the guide. "I see."

"Telepathy, I assume?" He sprang off the floor. "You know, it helps if you warn the other person," shaking a finger now, although all thought was apparently re-focusing on the center console.

Crisis averted. Life goes on, clearly. I sighed.

A low rumble gurgled and I realized, with a sharp stab to the abdomen, that it was still the breakfast-y portion of the day. The pancakes had been abandoned judging by the smell of ash, but maybe he finished a few…

Did you know his plan?

Grumbling, I headed over to the hallway where the burnt smell was coming from. "You could just say it out loud."

Did you know he planned to leave my soul behind?

I stopped at this.

He was still a few feet away, but the pull of the question brought my eyes to his for the second time that morning. A pang of guilt ran through my body. He didn't deserve to be in pain, no matter what he'd been prepared to do back on the planet. But there was no avoiding the need to take him with us.

"The reason was just. Didn't you talk to the Doctor?" I asked and continued into the kitchen. The Tardis must have moved it over this morning. Last time I checked, it had been next to the library, which in itself told me more about the owner than he ever would. Learning a little more about you when I least expect it. "Hey, how did you wake up from the hibernation anyways?" I popped my head around the corner into the hallway, but the guide was gone.

"Two moody aliens on this ship," I muttered, gesturing wildly with the spatula. "There's only room for one! And he's running the show whether you like it or not!"

"I heard that!" a voice in the distance replied cheerfully.

"Not like the poor guy's a zombie," I said to myself, and scooped up one of the few safe pancakes to take a bite. "He looks just fine. Even has a bit more personality. A little spunk. Pizzazz."

But something about that sounded…off.

Musing on this, I went to find a sounding board. The Doctor was standing over the ship's computer, pulling up images of data too quickly for the human eye to process before moving onto the next set.

"Want to see something cool?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the screen.

"Just a second. Something's bugging me. How likely is it that the guide's personality would do a complete 180 in a day?"

He paused to look away from the information, "Very likely, since it's already happened. The mechanics of it is something I've been considering since yesterday. This morning helped fill in some of the gaps." He straightened up and gestured to me and the other side of the Tardis. "You two are psychically connected. The only explanation that makes sense, since I don't share a connection with our friend, is that this happened during the Inquiry. Now I am very old and have experience in blocking psychic attacks, but you didn't have that luxury."

The Doctor tapped his head, "He was in your mind long enough for you to recognize each other and even take on a temporary form, from what you've told me." He paused, "That type of mental connection is hard to break."

His face was a mask. Like he was searching for something.

I hesitated, not wanting to insult him but still not understanding, "What are you implying?"

The Doctor sighed and ran a hand across his face. "Well…this is just theory now. His species' consider their souls connected to the planet. If that's true, then it's possible when we left the atmosphere that his very being attached itself to the nearest available source." He let that sink in for a moment.

"Me."

"You."

"So he's…what? Piggybacking off my soul?" I laughed.

He responded with silence.

"He can't do that."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow and shrugged, "Ask him." He leaned against the console, nodding in the direction the guide went. "Telepathy's can be a two way street."

You hearing this, sunshine? I sent and waited.

There is no sun, he finally replied.

That was sarcasm. I was implying that you're acting the opposite…It's a human thing. I hear that you'll get used to it. The Doctor says you're soul is linked to mine. That true?

I got the equivalent of a growl in return.

Could be worse, I offered. Another growl.

I cut off the conversation, snickering. The back of my neck tingled. Turning around, the Doctor was running a program on the computer, from the looks of the new data, and watching me from the edge of his vision. His eyes darted back to the screen.

My stomach twisted. "You're doing that mad scientist impression again. What's going on?"

"Well," he began and smoothed his jacket, not meeting my gaze at first. "I ran a very small, tiny," and made a pinching motion, "itsy bitsy diagnostic on you. Nothing to worry about. Well, maybe. I'm not actually sure yet. I am fairly positive that you won't be harmed by sharing your soul – "

"Great!"

" – as long as you stick close to our friend. Why don't we know his name? The guide."

"Yahar," I said, and realized I knew this and more. "And that is NOT good news. What's going to happen if we leave him on the ship in a bubble while we talk to the physicist?" I asked.

He smiled and walked over to put his hands on my shoulders. "Then your soul, or piece of it, whatever he's sharing, could go flying right out of you and into a brand new, fully fledged Yahar." The Doctor clapped his hands together excitedly and spun me around as he ran past.

"Why are you happy about that?!"

"Because he's coming with us!" he shouted over his shoulder and threw open the door. "That's what I wanted to show you." The bright blue moon, teeming with life, lay below. "We're already there!"