Pawn or enemy queen?

The Doctor stared at the man.

“So you’re saying this girl.. is my daughter?” He was skeptical, of course, even though Heather had the same almost creepy calm composition that he had.

“If she’s my daughter, she’d have the crest. But her shirt is covering where it should be.”

“I beleive she has it. I haven’t checked yet, but she’s so much like you.” The Doctor stared again.

“Well… she does look like Lyra, but I can’t be sure yet. If she’s my daughter, Lyra would be her mother. But I can’t tell. Is there any way I can talk to her?”

“I’m afraid not.” Heather was in her cell still, staring at the camera. The man tried hard not to look. He couldn’t stand her looking at him. Little did he know that earlier, in her breakfast, her Sonic Screwdriver had come through in her napkin. She was waiting for the cameras to go offline so that she could escape.Then… they did, and she ran it across the door, making it pop open with a click. She ran out, past hoards of Daleks. She was somehow… invincible.

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