He sat with Fortuna, on the rocking chair she loved. She snuggled against him. Fortuna liked quiet snuggles, simply appreciated closeness. The Doctor’s fingers plucked absently at the TARDIS key pinned to her shirt. The key was always pinned somewhere on her.
“Fortuna,” he said.
She hummed contentedly.
“Do you know what this is?” he asked. He wanted to be sure she knew what to do if she ever got separated from them.
“It’s the key to home,” she answered, happily, her happiness almost blinding inside of him.
“Yes,” he agreed, and kissed the top of her head. “It is.”