In the Company of Flowers

by Artron

Summary:

Susan's had to stay inside because of her broken leg—it's horrible! She hates it. But she hates the silence more. Grandfather's been gone too long, and all she's left with are her flowers. What if something terrible has happened to him outside the TARDIS?

Notes:

"I don't say that Grandfather doesn't know how to work the ship, but he's so forgetful, and then he will go off and. Well, he likes to work on his own." -- The Daleks // Ep 1: The Dead Planet

Prompt is: Flowers and Broken Bones

Grandfather’s gone off again, but here she has to stay. On the ship. To rest, Grandfather had told her. But she doesn’t want to. She wants to go out and explore with him. Wants to run again! But her leg still hurts terribly after their last adventure. It burns like the time rotor does when it's overheating. She'd touched the glass once when it flared—just once—and it had reddened her palms instantly. But this burn is underneath the skin, trapped beneath the cast where she can't reach it. 

She sucks in a breath, rubbing uselessly at the plaster. It goes past her knee. She just wants rid of it. But she has to have it on to give her broken bones time to set properly. 

It’s stupid. She heals fast—he knows that. Just like every other Time Lord can.

With a huff, she limps over to her desk and plops down in her chair. Glass domes tinkle against each other. She looks up. Vibrant colours pepper her face, reflected from petals. From her flowers. They decorate the desk and most of her shelves, kept in glass domes for preservation. The nearest one to her is a small, drooping cream and orange hyacinth. It twitches and unfurls, reacting to the vibrations. 

It’s enough to draw her out of her frustrations a little, because it’s reacting to her. Still alive under the modifications she’s made to its dome—it provides it artificial sunlight and is set on a timer to water it routinely. She smiles as she props her hand on her chin and brushes her fingers along the glass. Hyacinthus gryphtalis. So named because of their peculiar colour and their unusual ability to curl their petals inward like talons at night.  

In a way, she can relate. Not because it hides itself away, no. But because it just seems so… lonely. This one especially. It’d been growing by itself before she picked it. 

She sighs and glances at the door. Her flowers keep her company, but it’s so boring being on the ship by herself! “Grandfather’s been gone for hours,” she complains aloud. And the ship’s ever-present hum gentles under it. Her attention shifts to the ceiling, then to her bedroom door again. She chews on her bottom lip, thinking. 

Four hours and twenty-two minutes… He’s been gone too long. He's probably found something fascinating and forgotten the time entirely.

But… maybe she should go and make sure he’s alright. He often gets himself into trouble, and if she’s not there to help… 

Pressing a palm against the smooth wood of the desk, she pushes herself back onto her feet. “I can’t just stay in here,” she tells herself, tells the ship. “I just can’t.”  

It’s safe to breathe outside, she knows it is. He’d had her check. Higher in oxygen than most planets they’ve been on. And she’d seen trees out there! Huge trees, unlike any she’d ever gotten to see back in the Citadel or even in Arcadia, when they visited. They weren’t silver or thin. They were bright gold!

That’s that, then. She’ll go and see.

So she does, limping out of her room and down the corridor. A familiar metallic tang fills the air, the grating clanging beneath her feet. The off-white and gold corridors twist and turn, but she’s come to know where most of them might lead to over the months she’s spent on this ship. 

Soon, the central console room opens up to her, and as she steps into it, the doors thrum shut behind her. She wraps her arms around herself, staring at the exit. Her leg burns something awful now. She shifts her weight so she’s not placing too much pressure on it.

What if she’s just being silly? What if he’s perfectly fine and is about to come marching through the doors at any moment, new specimens in hand? 

She shakes her head. “No. He’s been gone too long,” she tells herself, firm. And heads for the console. Not even her stupid leg will stop her. She can ignore the pain… at least until she knows Grandfather’s alright.

She flicks the switch and the doors slide open. Humid air wafts through, sending her hair fluttering back from her face. Earth and green plant-life with a peculiar hint of cinnamon tickles at her nose. As she draws in a breath and limps outside, strange bird song flutes through the air, as if greeting her to the forest beyond.

It stretches ahead of her in bronze and amber, with trees growing in slanted ways up and up, far above her head. Evening light speckles the soil paths, highlighting footprints that trail further in. Undoubtedly, they must belong to her Grandfather. 

But… the forest is truly pretty. She gingerly spins around to take everything in. It’s like she’s surrounded by living metal. When she brushes past some leaves from low-hanging branches, they’re soft to the touch. If only she could stay to study them. But she can’t.

She trails after the footprints, her feet crunching into the earth. It’s hard work, every other step is stiff and uncomfortable. And it’s… rather frightening being by herself.

Something shrieks in the distance and she freezes with a cut-off yelp. Seconds pass. And the bird’s flute again. She presses a hand to her chest with a sigh. Her heart’s hammering something awful against her ribs. 

She glances over her shoulder, back at the TARDIS. 

It’s shifted to look like one of those big trees, but she can tell that it’s their ship. There’s a faint shimmer around its edges. Grandfather struggles sometimes with it when it changes, but she’s never found it too difficult.

Maybe Grandfather's forgotten more than just her. Maybe he's forgotten where he left the ship too.

“Grandfather?” she calls out loud, and turns to make her way deeper into the forest.

Even with the occasional growl and shriek echoing through the trees, she calls and calls for him. The light’s growing dim. A breath shudders out of her. It doesn’t feel right anymore being in here. It’s not like living metal. Everything’s gone cold and blue. 

She trips over a root. Pain bursts straight up her leg. She collapses with a cry. Curls in on herself against damp soil and leaves. 

She’s alone. And lost. So lost, like he is, if he’s even out here at all.

“Grandfather…” He always does this. Why does he always have to leave her alone? She sniffles and buries her face in her arms.  

“Susan?” A gruff, yet absolutely flabbergasted voice calls. “What’re you doing down there, child?”

With a hiccupping sob, she scrambles to sit upright. Her grandfather stares down at her. Mud smears one of his cheeks and his clothes are a little rumpled but— “You’re okay!” she croaks out. 

“Whatever makes you think I wasn’t?” he says with a furrowed brow. “Come on, up you get. Up!” He crouches to help her to her feet. 

She has to lean on him, the last of her energy having left her in the fall. 

He tuts and wraps his arm around her shoulders. “What did I tell you about stepping outside of the TARDIS, hm? Not until you're well again!” 

“I’m sorry.” She wipes at her eyes. “You took so long, I thought… I thought something terrible had happened to you.”

“No, no, no. I was just finding the perfect things to bring back to the ship! The flora here is most fascinating.” 

A small wobbly smile works its way across her face. “It is, isn’t it? Too dark now, though, to properly examine it.” But as he helps her along, dull rays of fading sunlight gleam across something in his opposite hand. “What’s that?” 

“Hmm?” His attention flits to what he’s holding, then away again. “Oh. Nothing much, my dear,” he continues, keeping his attention on the path. “Just some… mementos. Yes, mementos. That’s all they are.” 

It’s… curious, but she lets it drop for now, too tired to press him about it. He’d likely get stubborn anyway if she did. 

They rely on her trail of footprints—what they can see of them—to mark the way back. Including his own tricks: a pile of stones he’d specifically made earlier on his travels. 

By the time Susan’s pointed the TARDIS out to them, she’s forgotten all about whatever he’s holding. Just intent on getting inside.

Warm, dry air gusts over them, and she droops in relief. They’re home. 

Grandfather guides her over to the nearest chair, helping her settle down, before heading over to the console to close the doors.

And as they slide shut, so too do her eyelids. She aches now, so terribly. And the adrenaline must’ve worn off, because her leg’s pulsing as much as the engines do when they’re soaring through the Time Vortex.

She could sleep. Maybe forever. 

A quiet rustle sounds out, right beside her plaster-cast foot. 

She opens her eyes. 

A bundle of shimmering bronze flowers lay in a small bundle near the chair. 

“I’m very thirsty,” her grandfather announces. “All that running about, getting on you know. … Tea will do the trick. I’ll get some for us both.” And before she can say anything, off he bustles down the corridor. “Then”—his voice carries—“I’ll have a good look at what type of minerals are present on this planet.” She just about catches sight of him waving about some type of rock.

Then she looks down, back at the bundle of flowers. With a grunt, she bends down to pick them up. They’re soft, like the leaves outside. And warm. It’s strange but… very soothing. 

She brings them in close, breathing in the vanilla sweet scent of them. Mementos, he’d called them. But these aren’t that, are they? He’d saved them for her. 

“Thank you Grandfather,” she calls after him. Whether he hears her gratitude or not, she doesn’t mind. 

He hadn’t forgotten about her.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 3 of TARDIS Guide Bingo, Nov 2025