Chapter Fourteen

While Lisa headed for the shower, Poul busied himself tidying the apartment. It wasn’t much – hand-washing the few dishes that couldn’t go into the cleansing unit, wiping down the counters and table, double-checking that his door was locked, though not to the manic degree he had before.

As soon as the water turned on, he noticed a shift in the link. Her presence remained, but it was…different. The connection adjusted itself, instinctively blocking out anything too private – no sensation of water against skin, no feeling of movement as she scrubbed. Instead, it was as if she had been gently placed at the edge of his awareness. There was an unspoken courtesy in the way the link handled privacy, a natural boundary that spared him from experiencing anything he had no business sensing.

The barriers in place were automatic, but one thing still came through.

Her thoughts.

And they were full of music.

He remembered when the link had first activated and he became aware of her thoughts – the strange tunes and cinematic quotes that would randomly surface in her mind. It told him that she enjoyed audio and visual entertainment and that certain things stayed with her even after millennia.

Poul knew she wouldn’t mind him listening in on the music playing through her head. The songs were catchy, and they helped pass the time while he worked, but then he realized it was as if someone were cycling through the AudStream, flipping through channels in search of the right song and growing increasingly dissatisfied. One moment, someone was making a wish; the next, there was talk of a family with extraordinary gifts. A song about stealing the show came and went just as quickly, and then –

“We don’t talk about Bruno, no, no, no!”

Poul’s hands stilled on the pan he was drying. Who is Bruno, and why don’t we talk about him?

Lisa didn’t answer, her mind already moving on. The chaotic shuffle of melodies was oddly fitting for her – bits and pieces of things she’d picked up over the centuries, songs that stayed with her no matter how much time passed. Poul found the idea almost enviable.

There were gaps in his own mind, things he should remember but couldn’t. And – if he was being honest – didn’t want to. Not just yet.

With her help, maybe someday.

It was a strangely comforting insight into her mind, even as his own felt full of missing pieces.

The next song that burst through was loud and confident, all driving rhythm and fierce determination. Someone was calling out to a group of lost boys and girls, declaring their name with forceful pride and daring anyone to challenge them.

Poul couldn’t help but shake his head. It was just further proof that Lisa’s mind was a chaotic jumble of whatever had stuck with her over the years. The song was almost defiant – like someone staking their claim in a world that didn’t want to make room for them.

He finished drying the pan and set it on the rack, wiping his hands on the dishcloth. The music shifted again, and Poul barely had time to register the change before something new filtered through the link – something gentler, but deeply resonant.

“If happiness was a tangible thing, it would be you…”

He froze, the melody threading through his awareness with a warmth he hadn’t expected. Unlike the anthems or chaotic jingles that had come before, this was different – a vow wrapped in song. A promise of safety. Of unwavering presence.

“I, I will protect you at all costs…keep you safe here in my arms…”

Poul found himself leaning against the counter, listening despite himself. The words sank into him like sunlight through glass, settling in places he hadn’t known were cold. There was a truth in them – not just about Lisa, but about them. The connection they shared. The bond that had formed in quiet moments and shattered ones alike. As the chorus repeated in her mind, he felt something loosen in his chest. His breathing came easier. The loneliness wasn’t so loud.

He heard the water shut off and he couldn’t help but quip, You have quite the variety of music in your head, Lisa.

Her laugh echoed in his mind. Immortality and traveling around will do that, yeah. Hey, I took my watch off when I got in here and I’m not wearing my glasses. What time is it?

Poul glanced out the window. It’s evening.

Late enough for pajamas?

He snickered. I won’t argue with that. Shall I dress for bed, too?

May as well. I’ll meet you there; let me know when you’re decent.

Smiling, he made his way to the bedroom, and as he changed his clothes, the lyrics of the last song continued to play in his head. Before he knew it, he found himself humming.

You like that one, hm?

He hesitated, glancing down as he folded his shirt. I…don’t know. It just…feels…right?

How so? she prompted, her tone curious but tender.

He struggled to find the words, feeling oddly self-conscious. It’s…I don’t know. There’s something about the lyrics. That part – “If you’re ever feelin’ like you’re lost, I’ll come find you”… He hesitated, then admitted, That’s…what I hope you’d do for me. If I ever get lost again. In my head. In all of this. A pause. It just…feels true, somehow. Like something I didn’t know I needed to hear until I heard it. Quickly, he added, Not that I expect you to fix everything –

Poul, she said gently, relax. You’re not a burden and you never will be. Beat. I’m nearly finished in here; let me know when you’re ready.

Poul took a breath and focused on his task; once he’d put on his sleepwear and stored the clothes he was wearing in his hamper, he signaled to Lisa that she could come to the room.

The door opened seconds later and she tossed her used clothing in the storage bin. She still had a towel wrapped around her hair, with another one draped over an arm. Pointing at the latter, she said, “For the pillow. My hair is still damp.”

He nodded in understanding and sat on the edge of the bed, still thinking about the song and how it made him feel.

Smiling, she said, “It’s called ‘At All Costs’…” She paused, tapping a finger against her chin. “And this means it’ll be Our Song from now on.”

Poul frowned slightly, confused. “Uh…pardon?”

He felt her amusement pulse through the link, warm and unbothered. “Where I come from, there’s a saying…‘They’re playing our song’. Usually it’s romantic couples picking a song that played during a particular moment, like a first dance or a date.”

He tilted his head. “Did you and the Doctor have a…Song?”

Her smile turned wistful. “Several.” She set the towel from her arm onto the bed, then pulled the one around her head off and began rubbing it through her hair in an attempt to dry it. “Different personalities of their incarnations sometimes warranted a different song. I usually end up assigning a song for myself and my partner...the Doctor, Jamie, Erik.”

In her mind, the images of the people she’d loved that he’d seen during her dreams repeated themselves – the many versions of the Doctor, the fellow in the clothing that left his legs bare from the knee down, and the intense man with the half-mask.

“And me?”                                 

“The relationship doesn’t have to be romantic,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze. “If you feel that the lyrics describe ours, then that’s good enough for me.”

“I’ll remind you…and promise as one does…I, I will protect you at all costs…”

He hadn’t had much experience with sentimental things – or any real connection to music, certainly not the kind of music that was played on Kaldor. Sitting here with her, though, with those lyrics echoing gently in his mind, he felt it again – that warmth, that lightness, that sense of not being alone.

She gave up trying to dry her hair and tossed the towel into the bin with the rest of the used clothes, then sat beside him on the bed. Nudging him gently, she said, “Credit for your thoughts?”

Poul’s lips twitched upward at her attempt to reference Kaldor’s currency. “Picking up some local phrases, are you?”

Lisa shrugged with a grin. “I have to sound like I’m from around here, at least. Since Kaldor doesn’t have faster-than-light travel, I can’t exactly let on that I’m an alien, for lack of a better term.”

His smile lingered, softer than before. “Something tells me that, even if people found out, you’d be able to handle it.”

“Oh, a hundred percent,” she said, her smile widening. “But why give myself that headache if I can avoid it?” Chuckling, she stood to drape the dry towel over her pillow to protect it from her damp hair. “It’s good to see you less tense like this.”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I haven’t felt this calm in…well, a long time.” Catching her hand, he pulled her to him and embraced her. “And it’s all thanks to you. Thank you.”

She didn’t hesitate a moment to wrap her arms around him. “Aw, you’re welcome. I’m here for you, always.”

After a few moments, Poul remembered one of his tasks for learning lucid dreaming – the notebook that was currently still in Lisa’s room. Hearing his thoughts, she shooed him off to fetch it while she finished prepping the bed for sleep.

And when you get back, he heard her say in his head, as we settle in for the night…I’ll talk about Bruno.

He could almost see the playful smile on her face and the twinkle in her eye. The unexpected remark caught him off guard, and he couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. It was small, but real – unforced and genuine. He sensed her joining in with a laugh of her own, and for a moment, things felt brighter.

End chapter fourteen.

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