Fic: Ships That Pass (Charley, Fitz)
Sep. 5th, 2006 01:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
doyleTitle: Ships That Pass
Author: Doyle
Characters: Charley, Fitz, vague hints at Eight/Charley
Rating: G
Notes: (1) For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
whofest for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
_snakeface who wanted Fitz and Charley to coincide in any circumstances. (2) Entirely plotless and calling on one of the oldest clichés in fandom (all fandoms, everywhere, I’d be surprised if any have escaped the ‘trapped in a closet/cave/lift’ cliche). (3) Doesn't require any actual book knowledge other than that Eight spends more than half the series with total amnesia.
Summary: “I’m pretty sure the vague-looking one is mine.” “You realise that doesn’t exactly narrow it down.”
The broom cupboard was cramped, as broom cupboards the galaxy over were wont to be, and dark, and all in all not the sort of place in which Lady Louisa Pollard would be happy to find her daughter. Especially not with a strange man and especially, Charley suspected, with a man quite as scruffy as the one she’d found herself stuck with. Given the choice, she would have much rather been shut up in a small space with either of the identical Doctors, but they had ducked left when the shooting had started, leaving her to veer right. Of all the rotten luck! Two Doctors in the same place – that had to be an unusual event, even for a Time Lord – and she’d had all of five seconds to enjoy it.
It really was a very tight squeeze. Charley moved back as far as she could, brushing against what she assumed were mops and buckets, and tilted her head back so she wasn’t talking into the man’s chest. “Well,” she said. “This is nice, if by nice I mean that we’re not currently dead. I’m Charlotte, by the way,” she added. “My friends call me Charley.”
“Everybody calls me Fitz.”
Charley wondered if it was short for Fitzwilliam, and if so whether he had been named after Mr Darcy. She tried to match this with the brief glimpse she had got of the man before they had dived through what had turned out to be this dead end – slouching and unshaven and straggly-haired, encased in a leather coat that he had probably been born in. This close, she could smell cigarette smoke on his breath. A Jane Austen fan his mother might have been, she decided, wrinkling her nose. A psychic she evidently was not.
“I think the shooting’s getting further away,” he said optimistically. “And the Doctor’s good at getting out of stuff like this. So two of him are probably twice as good.”
“It sounds rather like a Time Lord sum,” she said, amused by the whimsy of that, and she noticed the way his breath caught when she said ‘Time Lord’. “What?”
“Nothing.” Then he asked, in the very casual way that people do when they’re not feeling casual at all, “You know about Gallifrey and all that stuff, then?”
Charley rolled her eyes. Of course not. She had spent six months gallivanting around the universe with an alien and never asked what planet he came from. “Yes. Not that I’ve been there personally, but what with the way he pilots the TARDIS we’re bound to land up there by mistake one of these days. I’m not looking forward to it, it doesn’t sound like a very jolly sort of place.”
“It wasn’t,” he muttered, seemingly to himself. “You must be the one before me, then. The one before Sam, rather.”
It was like knowing the name Gallifrey but not being able to picture it, or what the Doctor’s life must have been like there; she had known as soon as she had seen them that the second Doctor must come from years before they’d met, or years after she’d… years in the future, when they weren’t together any more. And Fitz would be someone he’d picked up on the way, maybe rescued from some near-catastrophe, like her.
But if she’d had to pick one of the two she would have assumed Fitz’s Doctor was younger, hadn’t met her yet, because for a second he had looked straight at her and there hadn’t been the least sign of recognition.
“I think it’s all clear out there,” Fitz said, cracking the door open and looking back at her in the sudden chink of light. “Here, are you all right? You look a bit ill.”
“Oh, I’m not very good with being shut up in small spaces,” she said. “I’ll be right as rain in a minute. We should find our Doctors, shouldn’t we? Assuming we can sort out which is which.”
Fitz scratched the back of his neck. “I’m pretty sure the vague-looking one is mine.”
“You realise,” Charley said, “that that doesn’t exactly narrow it down.” She hesitated, and asked, as if it had just popped into her head, “Are you sure yours is a later one than mine?”
“Oh yes,” he said, with a grimness that made her feel she was missing something important. “If you think there’s a chance of going to Gallifrey some day… then trust me, I’m sure.”
**
“Fitz seemed nice,” the Doctor said cheerfully, either setting the TARDIS’s coordinates or just playing with her levers for the sheer fun of it. “I think I’ll enjoy meeting him. That girl who was with them, too. Lucky old me, eh? I do tend to fall on my feet in my choice of companions, the lovely Miss Pollard a case in point.”
The compliment, for once, sailed over Charley’s head. “The other you…” she said.
“I didn’t really talk to him much. It’s frowned upon, especially when you’re both within the same lifetime. A devilishly good-looking chap, though, and a good man to have around when you’re being fired on from four sides. I can’t remember, have we eaten today? Or yesterday?” He glanced up from the controls. “Sorry, Charley, were you going to ask something?”
“I was going to complain about the lack of breakfast, lunch, dinner and another breakfast,” she said, forcing a smile.
She was a practical sort of girl. Her mother had always said so, more in the hope that repeating it might make it so than any basis in fact, but Charley wasn’t about to embarrass herself by asking You’d never forget me, would you? Because he’d say yes, and probably mean it, and she wanted to hang on to the belief that he’d never lie to her just a little longer.
xpostedwhofest and zagreuswaits
Author: Doyle
Characters: Charley, Fitz, vague hints at Eight/Charley
Rating: G
Notes: (1) For
whofest for _snakeface who wanted Fitz and Charley to coincide in any circumstances. (2) Entirely plotless and calling on one of the oldest clichés in fandom (all fandoms, everywhere, I’d be surprised if any have escaped the ‘trapped in a closet/cave/lift’ cliche). (3) Doesn't require any actual book knowledge other than that Eight spends more than half the series with total amnesia.Summary: “I’m pretty sure the vague-looking one is mine.” “You realise that doesn’t exactly narrow it down.”
The broom cupboard was cramped, as broom cupboards the galaxy over were wont to be, and dark, and all in all not the sort of place in which Lady Louisa Pollard would be happy to find her daughter. Especially not with a strange man and especially, Charley suspected, with a man quite as scruffy as the one she’d found herself stuck with. Given the choice, she would have much rather been shut up in a small space with either of the identical Doctors, but they had ducked left when the shooting had started, leaving her to veer right. Of all the rotten luck! Two Doctors in the same place – that had to be an unusual event, even for a Time Lord – and she’d had all of five seconds to enjoy it.
It really was a very tight squeeze. Charley moved back as far as she could, brushing against what she assumed were mops and buckets, and tilted her head back so she wasn’t talking into the man’s chest. “Well,” she said. “This is nice, if by nice I mean that we’re not currently dead. I’m Charlotte, by the way,” she added. “My friends call me Charley.”
“Everybody calls me Fitz.”
Charley wondered if it was short for Fitzwilliam, and if so whether he had been named after Mr Darcy. She tried to match this with the brief glimpse she had got of the man before they had dived through what had turned out to be this dead end – slouching and unshaven and straggly-haired, encased in a leather coat that he had probably been born in. This close, she could smell cigarette smoke on his breath. A Jane Austen fan his mother might have been, she decided, wrinkling her nose. A psychic she evidently was not.
“I think the shooting’s getting further away,” he said optimistically. “And the Doctor’s good at getting out of stuff like this. So two of him are probably twice as good.”
“It sounds rather like a Time Lord sum,” she said, amused by the whimsy of that, and she noticed the way his breath caught when she said ‘Time Lord’. “What?”
“Nothing.” Then he asked, in the very casual way that people do when they’re not feeling casual at all, “You know about Gallifrey and all that stuff, then?”
Charley rolled her eyes. Of course not. She had spent six months gallivanting around the universe with an alien and never asked what planet he came from. “Yes. Not that I’ve been there personally, but what with the way he pilots the TARDIS we’re bound to land up there by mistake one of these days. I’m not looking forward to it, it doesn’t sound like a very jolly sort of place.”
“It wasn’t,” he muttered, seemingly to himself. “You must be the one before me, then. The one before Sam, rather.”
It was like knowing the name Gallifrey but not being able to picture it, or what the Doctor’s life must have been like there; she had known as soon as she had seen them that the second Doctor must come from years before they’d met, or years after she’d… years in the future, when they weren’t together any more. And Fitz would be someone he’d picked up on the way, maybe rescued from some near-catastrophe, like her.
But if she’d had to pick one of the two she would have assumed Fitz’s Doctor was younger, hadn’t met her yet, because for a second he had looked straight at her and there hadn’t been the least sign of recognition.
“I think it’s all clear out there,” Fitz said, cracking the door open and looking back at her in the sudden chink of light. “Here, are you all right? You look a bit ill.”
“Oh, I’m not very good with being shut up in small spaces,” she said. “I’ll be right as rain in a minute. We should find our Doctors, shouldn’t we? Assuming we can sort out which is which.”
Fitz scratched the back of his neck. “I’m pretty sure the vague-looking one is mine.”
“You realise,” Charley said, “that that doesn’t exactly narrow it down.” She hesitated, and asked, as if it had just popped into her head, “Are you sure yours is a later one than mine?”
“Oh yes,” he said, with a grimness that made her feel she was missing something important. “If you think there’s a chance of going to Gallifrey some day… then trust me, I’m sure.”
**
“Fitz seemed nice,” the Doctor said cheerfully, either setting the TARDIS’s coordinates or just playing with her levers for the sheer fun of it. “I think I’ll enjoy meeting him. That girl who was with them, too. Lucky old me, eh? I do tend to fall on my feet in my choice of companions, the lovely Miss Pollard a case in point.”
The compliment, for once, sailed over Charley’s head. “The other you…” she said.
“I didn’t really talk to him much. It’s frowned upon, especially when you’re both within the same lifetime. A devilishly good-looking chap, though, and a good man to have around when you’re being fired on from four sides. I can’t remember, have we eaten today? Or yesterday?” He glanced up from the controls. “Sorry, Charley, were you going to ask something?”
“I was going to complain about the lack of breakfast, lunch, dinner and another breakfast,” she said, forcing a smile.
She was a practical sort of girl. Her mother had always said so, more in the hope that repeating it might make it so than any basis in fact, but Charley wasn’t about to embarrass herself by asking You’d never forget me, would you? Because he’d say yes, and probably mean it, and she wanted to hang on to the belief that he’d never lie to her just a little longer.
xposted
whofest and zagreuswaits![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2006-09-05 12:29 am (UTC)Oh, lovely. Really truly lovely, and funny, and melancholy, and perfectly them. I love your Charley: all enthusiasm as a thin veil over the desperate wonkiness. Audio should meet book canon more often.
Yay for inspirational fic-producing hatememes! There's hope for this crap-arsed soul-churning fandom yet.
no subject
on 2006-09-05 12:33 am (UTC)Yay for inspirational fic-producing hatememes!
So true. I've been blocked on how to write this request for ages until hatememe-induced guilt forced me to sit down and finish it. And rereading the list of requests on
no subject
on 2006-09-05 01:42 am (UTC)no subject
on 2006-09-05 02:26 am (UTC)I love Charley! And Eight and Charley, and oh they were so *wonderful* and oh they're so DOOMED, and you capture that poignancy beautifully. *sniff*
I could hear Charley's voice very clearly here, and the Doctor's as well and though I've never met Fitz I'm sure he's spot on as well. :-)
no subject
on 2006-09-05 07:00 am (UTC)no subject
on 2006-09-05 06:51 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2006-09-05 10:51 pm (UTC)Y'know, I've never heard an 8 audio, so I don't know anything about Charley. But the CDs are so expensive and so much harder to find time to listen to than it is to read a book.
no subject
on 2006-09-05 10:57 pm (UTC)