Victoria's Lullaby

It was night time in the TARDIS. Victoria was never sure how she could always tell but it was. The lights were all dimmed and the crew of Jamie, the Doctor and herself were all sleeping. Or at least, Victoria was trying to. Thoughts, memories, dreams, nightmares, all entered her head when night fell and left alone in the stillness of her room these manifestations all appeared more vivid and real, more frightening and lonely. And she did feel very alone.

Convinced that sleep would not come whilst such emotions plagued her, Victoria left her room, roaming the corridors of the TARDIS in an effort to escape her thoughts. It was times like these that she missed her father the most. During the daytime, in the light, she felt stronger, more able to cope. She didn’t feel so alone. The Doctor and Jamie were always there, getting into trouble in search of new adventures. The thought of them warmed her and she smiled at how they would argue and torment each other, and were as inseparable as two schoolyard chums. So different from her. And yet they still encouraged and accepted her. So like fathers to her. So like her father.

Lost in thought, Victoria hadn’t even noticed where she was walking, yet her homing instincts had lead her to the console room, which was lit in an unusually dingy light and everything remained eerily still except the central column’s rise and fall. During the day, the Doctor would be skipping energetically around the console like a maypole on May Day, happily steering (or so he claimed) his beloved ship. And Jamie, he would be there too, hanging back slightly to allow the Doctor to work but close enough to observe, ever keen to learn more about the Doctor’s world so different from his own. Smiling sadly, she sat herself on the floor against the console. No one was here now though.

No Jamie.
No Doctor.

It was true that the pair could be childish and stubborn and leave her to feel like the level-headed, responsible one of the group but then there were those other times. Times, in the face of peril and impossible odds, when the two of them appeared the most courageous men she’d ever encountered. Perhaps even braver than her fath-
She could feel the tears swelling in her eyes and the hollow lump in her throat at the thought of her father. Burying her head into her knees, she snivelled and allowed the tears to silently fall. Yes, during the day she had them, but in night’s silent embrace when darkness loomed and the shadows in her mind crept closer... She was alone. Left with only her sorrow and longing for her old life as company.

“Victoria dear, are you alright?”
Just like that the shadowy demons that had fallen on her mind recoiled and retreated. All because of a warm, friendly voice and a gentle presence that like a blinding light banished all her fears. At the touch of a comforting hand on her shoulder, Victoria raised her head to meet his eyes. Smiling that vulnerably charming smile stood the Doctor. From his scruffy mop-like hair, she couldn’t tell if he’d just woken up or not. Did he even sleep? She sometimes wondered.
“I-I couldn’t sleep.” Desperate not to appear like she’d been crying over nothing she quickly wiped her eyes and sprang up off the floor. The Doctor never had to deal with Jamie crying. Only children cried over nothing she told herself furiously. Although he didn’t reply, Victoria could see the sympathy and understanding in his deep, gentle, cosmos-dark eyes.
Suddenly an idea ignited in his features and he snapped his fingers; “Aha! I know just the thing!” and dashing off he called over his shoulder “I’ll meet you back in your room!” And with that he was gone.

Upon returning to her room, Victoria had just perched herself on her bed when she heard a cheerful rap at the door before the Doctor marched in triumphantly holding a steaming mug labelled ‘World’s Best Grandfather’. Before she could ask, the aromas hit her and any curiosity was long forgotten.
“Ta-dah!” he said holding it proudly aloft before presenting it to his bewildered companion. She smiled warmly, as one found they couldn’t help but do around the Doctor and sniffed the sweet, spicy steam that curled up to greet her.
“What is it?”
“Gallifreyan hot chocolate”, he leaned closer as if to divulge a secret and whispered, “... with marshmallows!” and sealed the secret with a wink which produced the desired effect as Victoria giggled.
Overcome with the kind gesture, Victoria felt happier already but still felt an empty void that, especially at night, only her father could heal. Unless...

“Doctor?”
“Hmm?”
She wasn’t quite sure how to ask this and afraid of rejection was tempted to say “never mind” or “oh nothing” but forced herself to proceed with the request. “May I ask just one more favour? I know it’s childish but -”
Her hopeful eyes gazed up at him, half pleading, and he beamed down at her with father-like affection, giving her renewed hope that it may just help, even if only a little. “My dear, I would be happy to be of service. And, as it happens, I often find that life’s childish things are often the most important.”
“Well... When I lived at home in London, when I couldn’t sleep, there was this lullaby that used to help. I wouldn’t ask but my father -” Victoria’s voice went quiet as she tried to hide a sob. The Doctor, he too was now sat at the end of her bed, placed a hand tenderly on her cheek and lifted her eyes to meet his. She stared up at him; his shaggy fringe brushing the tops of his large, soulful eyes. Eyes that could look humourous and but also stern, inspiring and yet vulnerable, joyful and woeful, playful and lonely. So wise and yet innocent and naive. So young and yet so ancient. The very same, familiar eyes met hers and a seriousness fell on them. He understood the pain she felt and humility it took to ask and, wiping away a tear with his thumb, he uttered, “Victoria, I would be delighted to. It would be an honour...”

And as quickly as the serious tone had entered his features, his playful good humour returned just as swiftly. He sprang up from the bed and shot out the door in an exited burst, only to pop his head back around the door to inform her he’d be back in a jiffy. Moments later, he returned, recorder in hand with a sheet of music courtesy of the TARDIS library. “Now,” he announced grandly as if about to perform on stage to thousands, “here goes!”
He began to sing, a rich, soothing and beautifully otherworldly sound. A harmonious melody that made Victoria instantly feel relaxed and safe from the demons that plagued her. Closing her eyes, she focused her mind on the notes. Her thoughts began to wander on when she first met the mysterious Doctor. And the Daleks.
She considered all the evils in the universe, the Daleks and Cybermen and who-knows-what-else, all fearful and foiled by this funny little man in baggy trousers. The Doctor. The same Doctor who was currently playing his recorder so softly and singing so sweetly at the request of a young girl. What was it about him that was so frightening to them? What was it they all feared?
As soon as she asked herself, the answer seemed so obvious. Daleks, Cybermen, all creatures of pure evil and darkness strived on the misery and suffering of others. Destruction, death, tyranny and terror – they were the source of their power. They didn’t feel dread or hatred at the Doctor’s floppy hair or shabby clothes. What they feared - truly feared - was his defiant cheerfulness, his optimism. His dazzling light piercing through the shadows, beckoning and guiding others out of the dark and into hope. His face may change, his clothes and even his voice, but his smile would always remain. And in the end, that was the only thing that could triumph over such darkness. Victoria smiled contently to herself as she drifted off into a peaceful sleep. “Thank you Doctor...” she murmured as the Doctor continued the song. The Doctor sang the final bars and looked fondly on the now soundly sleeping Victoria.
“Anytime...” he whispered. “Goodnight my dear Victoria.”