Work Text:
“Donna’s children?” his Eleventh self sputtered. “Your sister has children?”
“I’m a grandfather again,” Pinstripes whispered, his eyes tracing their metacrisis daughter’s face.
“Yeah,” she replied. “A boy and a girl. And Al’s getting married.”
But were they safe from Gallifrey? It was a good question. He pondered it.
“Should be,” the Doctor decided. “The Time Lords have made contact with me—the very act that put your father at risk was the one that lead to my existence. Well, Clara insisted, so I suppose she’s to blame.” He flicked on the scanner, seeking pinhole openings between this universe and Pete’s World. Susan was going to have to go back soon. In fact, the sooner, the better. “Gallifrey knows which universe I’m in, now. There’s only one of me again; no metacrisis confusing the issue.”
Susan’s intake of breath was short and sharp. “I finally understand.”
“Understand what?” Bow Tie answered.
“Why Grandmum Jackie slapped you.” She turned glittering eyes on him, a glare almost as good as his own, even without the bushy eyebrows. “You’re an arse.”