bigapplesauce | the beginning of another adventure [open to all]

Current Location: Central Park
Current Music: 29 May, 2013

Entry tags:

the beginning of another adventure [open to all]

She’s still in the process of figuring out how to work the PT wristband oojah the Viyrans had given her. It’s got settings for coordinates and dates, but if one doesn’t necessarily know the intergalactic coordinates of any given planet, that isn’t much use. Thus far, however, she hasn’t been all that bothered by her dubious navigation skills. It’s been perhaps a fortnight since she left the Viyran ship, and there’s nowhere in particular she’s heading. Just travelling for its own sake. Having adventures. She can’t say that she doesn’t miss doing so with company, but it’s not bad, really. It’s all right.

Her first go sent her to a planet with a surface like smooth silica, and all the life underground in beautifully bored tunnels, everything opalescent whites and pinks and greens. The people were little roboty things, and Charley spent a week with them, befriending a group of-- she supposed they’d be teenagers, by Earth standards, if an inorganic alien lifeform could be said to be a teenager-- and exploring deeper into the planet than anyone had yet ventured. After that, a planet that was all seas (she’d quickly left, considerably damper than she'd arrived); after that, someplace called Malleiateos, covered with ochre-fawn-marigold-tawny fields and breathing trees, where a young triad had insisted she stay with them because she looked exhausted. She suspects they’d rather fancied her, but they’d been polite enough to keep it to themselves.

And now? Now… she’s fairly sure she’s in New York. She is; New York City. Charley can’t help it; she laughs out loud. She’s still feeling a little disorientated from her arrival, which had been unwontedly rough, like space and time had grabbed her and had to shove her through a minute gap to get her here, so perhaps a little giddiness is understandable. She feels disorientated and frazzled, but it is suddenly, unexpectedly wonderful to be on Earth.

It’s warm, it’s Spring, she’s in a park next to a lake, and she stands for a moment, squinting up at the skyline. Certainly not the 1930’s, she can tell that much. A few people pause to blink at her, but other than having just appeared out of nowhere, she doesn’t stand out much; a young woman dressed head-to-toe in practical, comfortable black, wearing a backpack. She might be anyone.

Unpeeling her wristband and tucking it away into the backpack, she slings the bag back over her shoulder, chooses a direction, and starts walking.

[OOC: She's materalised in Central Park, near the reservoir, and is going to be wandering in a generally southerly direction, more or less towards the Rebel base, so feel free to run into her]

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"Doesn't matter now," he tells her, shaking his head. He does remember their fight - her demanding to be returned home. He also remembers not dealing with it in the best possible way - he was hurting, and so was she. And he thought that had been it. But if she didn't mean it, if she changed her mind, that's good enough for him. Especially after all this time.

"It's just good to see you again," he says. "Are you alright? You just arrived, didn't you?"

And at least he's finally calmed down enough to stop spawning kittens. He's accidentally created four since he first spotted Charley, but two have faded since he's moved too far away from them, and the other two, more recent ones, he's making hang back to not distract Charley.

The Doctor seems more glad to see her than interested in quibbling over the circumstances of their parting, for which she is very grateful. And she supposes, if all this time (and how long is the space of a few regenerations?) he'd thought she'd never wanted to see him again, it is perhaps little wonder.

Something about the phrasing of his question gives her a little pause; you just arrived, didn't you?, rather than did you just arrive?, as if he'd been expecting her. Except it's patently obvious that he hadn't been, and she gives him a brief, curious look before agreeing.

'Just now, perhaps fifteen minutes ago.' Charley pulls back slightly from him to unsling her backpack, pulling out the transporter. It's all white, in keeping with the Viyrans' general aesthetic, a wristband made of some synthetic material she can't identify, neither cloth nor rubber, with a control panel at the top. She proffers it to the Doctor in explanation. 'I've got this wristband thingummy, but I've not entirely worked it out yet, so I've mostly just been taking random hops.'

The Doctor frowns curiously as she pulls out the wristband, accepting it and inspecting it. "This is Viyran, isn't it?" he asks, pulling out his glasses from his pocket and putting them on. The Doctor's had a run in with them not so terribly long ago, actually - well, relatively speaking. With Rose...

He pulls out his sonic as well - quite a different one from the one Charley's used to of course, though the sound it makes should be familiar enough. The wristband doesn't seem to have been frazzled by its journey through the rift.

"Hold on, let me just..." He pockets the sonic, and puts on the wristband, then attempts to depart. For a moment, he seems to flicker and briefly disappear, like a badly tuned television. Two nearby kittens disappear in puffs of smoke. When he solidifies again a mere moment later, he drops to his knees with a sound of pain, bent over, though he doesn't appear visibly hurt.

'Ah.' Charley looks a bit shifty when he recognises the wristband's origins; it's just now occurring to her that she's not exactly sure how much she ought strictly to tell him about what she's done in the years since leaving him. 'Uh, yes, it is.'

She watches with interest as he pulls out what she can only presume is his sonic screwdriver-- significantly altered-- turning it on the PT device. And perhaps she should have, but she isn't really expecting him to try to take off. 'Doctor!' she says a trifle crossly. When he appears again, crumpling to the ground, crossness gives way to worry, and she drops to her own knees to help him, hands fluttering around his shoulders.

'Doctor! Stupid, are you alright? What've you done? And--' she directs a bewildered glance behind him. 'Did you just teleport a couple of cats?'

Edited 2014-03-24 00:58 (UTC)

"I'm fine," he answers, a little out of breath after having it knocked out of him from trying that, but the pain was just momentary. He recovers quickly, getting to his feet again with her help, and helping her up in return. He's notices he'd rather missed a companion telling him he's stupid and fretting over him in the same breath.

"What?" he adds belatedly, realising she asked about the cats, glancing behind him. "Oh, no, that's just..." He holds out a hand, and a tiny blonde kitten with bright blue eyes appears in it. He hands the kitten to Charley.

She's distracted from any further inquiries or chiding by the sudden materialisation of the kitten in the Doctor's hand. She blinks from him down to the kitten in his hand and back again, her face creasing around an incredulous expression when he hands it to her. It is most definitely a kitten, soft and warm and alive, and it wriggles in her hands, twisting to gnaw at a finger with sharp little teeth.

'... You can summon kittens.'

It doesn't quite manage to be a question. Then she starts laughing. 'Is this a new talent, or is it a Time Lord thing that I managed not to notice the whole time I was travelling with you? Is there a room somewhere in the TARDIS that's just crammed full of cats?'

The Doctor can't help but grin. "No, I -- well, I wouldn't put it past her, actually, but not to knowledge," he answers. He does probably have some cats or cat-like creatures somewhere in there, but not a room with only cats. "It's a recent thing, I'll explain later." For once that phrase isn't just a blow-off to avoid explaining something.

"But right now I think we ought to get out of here," he says, glancing around. They have attracted a fair amount of attention from the few people littered around, and with his luck, ROMAC agents will be on their way to pick her up or something. He grabs the sonic once more, fiddling with the wristband to make it able to carry two.

Charley arches a sardonic eyebrow at his promise that he'll explain later. She's heard that particular phrase enough times to know what it often doesn't mean. 'I'll be holding you to that.'

It occurs to her that perhaps she shouldn't be finding it quite this easy to lapse back into her familiar dynamic with the Doctor, even this Doctor whom she doesn't really know at all. As if she should still be crying and clinging to him, or wanting to unpack all of their issues and discuss them here and now; as if any of that would be remotely like her. Internally, she gives herself a little clout. Buck up, Charlotte Pollard!

She's neatly distracted from any more such thoughts when the Doctor starts to fiddle with the wristband again, and she lays a hasty hand on his wrist. 'You're not going to get us blown up or anything, are you? Only I'd, you know, prefer not to die courtesy of a malfunctioning teleporter just after I've met you again.'

"There's nothing wrong with the teleporter," he promises. "I know what I'm doing. And yes, I did actually know what I was doing and what would probably happen when I tried a moment ago. Didn't get blown up, did I? I was stopped from leaving the city, but traveling within Manhattan should be fine." And he's been here long enough to know the coordinates for most areas of this little island, even if it's a different universe.

"Promise," he adds, then picks up the kitten from her, tosses it upwards and makes it disappear midair - then while she's distracted, grabs her and activates the teleport. They reappear not far away from where they were, in the middle of the Ramble, hidden by the trees and hills surrounding them. "See?"

'Stopped from leaving the city?' she echoes, mildly alarmed. 'By whom? And what are you--'

She blinks, words cut off by surprise when the Doctor nabs the kitten out of her hand and throws it high in the air. And then, before she can so much as express worry for the poor thing, grabs her around the middle and yanks her in close, and activates the teleport. There's a whoomp of air imploding into the space where they used to be, and a moment later, they're somewhere else. She stumbles slightly, falling against his chest, before she collects herself, shaking her head to clear it.

'You know, you could have just told me what you were going to do,' she comments dryly, giving him a fond little cuff, 'instead of making a big magic trick out of it.' Despite her complaining, she finds the fact that he'd felt the need to be silly and showoffish about it unaccountably charming.

'So where are we then? And what is stopping us leaving the city?'

She doesn't like the sound of that at all.

"That wouldn't be as fun," he answers cheerfully, pocketing his glasses again and taking off his wristband, putting that too in his pocket for now. He sobers when she asks what's stopping them from leaving, though.

"We've only moved about a quarter of a mile, bit further south in the park. The TARDIS is nearby, come on," he answers, taking her hand automatically. "There's a Rift in space and time here. Kind of like a plughole, it pulls people in, but stops them from going out. At a guess, I'd say this wasn't even where your teleporter was taking you, the Rift just nabbed you on the way."

She takes his hand gladly, but a frown carves itself between her eyebrows as he describes the Rift. She has, after all, had rather traumatic experiences involving rifts in time and space, even if Manhatten is not exactly on equal footing with the Antiverse.

'Oh dear. And I assume you've had no success overcoming it, otherwise you'd hardly still be here.' She pauses, expression growing faintly embarrassed. 'And, um, speaking of my teleporter, can I have it back? Not,' she continues hastily, 'that I think you're planning on absconding with it or anything, I'd just, you know, like to have it on me. In case something happens and we get separated again.'

As much as she'd love to feel the innocent young girl who comfortably trusts that the Doctor will always be there and always take care of her, well. She trusts him, of course she does, but she also has to know that she'll be able to manage on her own if it comes to it.

"Right, sorry, of course," he answers, pulling it out of his pocket and handing it back to her. Yeah, the Doctor's still really thoughtless, get used to it, Charley. And of course he refuses to even acknowledge the idea that they could get separated again. (And to be fair, he did sort of try to abscond with it, even if he knew it wouldn't work, and he'd come back for her if it did.)

"I can program in some coordinates for different parts of the city, too, so you won't have to hop around randomly," he says, though that can wait. "Anyway, we've been stuck here for months now, me and the TARDIS. As well as hundreds of other people from all over time and space, some who've been here for years, some who've recently arrived, like you," he explains, so she can get a grasp of the situation.

She accepts the PT wristband with a polite, 'Thanks,' refusing to feel embarrassed by her request. She's just being sensible, that's all. Not entirely willing to let go of his hand just yet, she tucks the wristband into one of the cargo pockets on her utilitarian black trousers instead of stowing it back in her pack. His offer to programme co-ordinates into it makes her smile.

'Oh, that'd be lovely. I suppose I really ought to've made the Viyrans explain it to me properly before I left, but, well, they're not exactly the best conversationalists.'

And again, whoops, possibly she's saying too much. Well, the Doctor can ask if he's really curious (though knowing him, she's no doubt he's positively brimming over with it); she can decide what she ought to say when it comes to it.

'And this is-- I mean to say, is it New York in our universe? Or is it some... alternate New York. I certainly didn't see anyone who looked terribly alien when I was walking just now; if people are getting pulled in from all over time and space, surely there must be some who don't exactly blend in.'

Oh he's definitely going to ask, but it doesn't seem as pressing as their current predicament -- even if their predicament's not particularly precarious. And also it seems like something that should take his full attention and might take a while to discuss, as he'll have to tell her a little of what he's been doing since then, probably.

"It's an alternate one. Not extremely different, though this is 2013, so it's probably decently different for you. The Rift isn't common knowledge, so anyone who doesn't blend in, as you say, have to lay low," he explains, taking a left turn down a path.

She takes in the date with a little lift of her eyebrows, and resists the urge to snarkily ask, different from what? She probably hasn't spent more than a few weeks in her home time period since she left Earth; she expects New York in 2013 will probably be about as different as most other places seem to be.

'But you know about all these people.' She stops looking around herself to turn her face up to him; the landscape he's leading them through is all trees and brush, a carefully cultivated wilderness. 'Is there some kind of... I don't know, secret society for aliens who come through the Rift? And even if they are human-- hasn't the city noticed the sudden increase of homeless people? I mean, not everyone has a TARDIS; people wouldn't have bank accounts or identification or any of that; how do they get on?'

Well, different from the other New York she got a taste of, for one thing. But yeah, it's probably a bit of a moot point after all that traveling.

The Doctor smiles down at her, obviously pleased with her asking all the right questions, and pretty accurate guesses.

"There's two, actually," he answers. "A group called ROMAC who cooperates with the government, and a group who just call themselves the Rebels, but who aren't quite as rebellious as they like to pretend. They handle that sort of integration. It's not all that selfless, mind you, they seem to treat it almost as recruiting. And both seem to be up to pretty shady things, so be careful not to trust them too much."

Goodness, she's landed herself right in the middle of things and no mistake. That does seem to be a talent of hers.

'What sorts of shady things?' she asks, and if the Doctor imagines he can hear a certain amount of eagerness in her voice, he wouldn't be mistaken. It's not that she's glad, exactly, that there might some kind of clandestine supra-governmental conspiracy going on, but it does sound terribly interesting.

The Doctor's not entirely sure whether to be pleased or worried at her enthusiasm, but he adopts a slightly stern look.

"Now now, miss Pollard," he says. "Our priorities here is to get everyone home to their own universes safely. You don't want to go inciting anything. There's a lot of powerful people in this city, and a lot of collateral damage to be had. Besides, we're stuck here, remember? You don't want to get yourself a reputation as a trouble-maker."

And if Charley imagined that that's exactly what the Doctor's been doing, she wouldn't be mistaken either. But there are still a lot of factors to be considered, and she doesn't want Charley to get hurt, either.

'I didn't say I was going to incite anything,' Charley protests, eyes going wide and voice dripping with false innocence. Drawing herself up as high as she can (and it's not very high, especially not next to this beanpole of a Doctor), she affects primness. 'I just wanted to know what was going on. I find it much harder to avoid stumbling into trouble when one doesn't know all the details of a situation.'

Honestly, Doctor, what do you take her for?

And then she grins at him, hand tightening in his for a moment as she veers to the left to knock into him with her shoulder. 'And if you try to tell me you've been keeping your head down this whole time and not getting into trouble, I shall laugh in your face.'

"Laugh in my face, huh?" the Doctor answers, a crooked smile pulling at his features, making it very difficult to be stern.

"Alright, there may have been a few scrapes," he admits, then points out quickly, "But I know what I'm doing." Which is also debatable, of course, but he does have a slightly better frame of reference than Charley does.

"Right here," he adds, going around a boulder, and suddenly getting the TARDIS in sight. Slightly different than she's used, of course - bigger, cleaner, different coloured sign - but unmistakably the TARDIS.

If she hadn't just been impossibly reunited with the Doctor, Charley might have been rather annoyed at that comment, but at the moment, she's still too glad to be with him to bother. Instead, she just laughs, smiling teasingly up at him.

'Of course you do.'

The TARDIS, when it comes into view, gets a brilliant smile, and Charley bounds over to it, pressing her palms flat to the wood and feeling the faint hum from within. She turns on the Doctor. 'You've cleaned her up! Very neat-looking, I must say.' And then, as a thought occurs to her, she snorts. 'Don't tell me you got the chameleon circuit working again and just used it to turn her into a slightly nicer-looking police box.'

The Doctor snorts as well. "Of course not," he answers, then pauses. "Well, don't think so, at least. She's from my future, actually. We didn't come here together." And technically they're not even from the same universe, but that can wait. Probably until she sees the TARDIS's bipedal form, at least. For now he just walks over to the door and pushes it open.

...Or, he would've, if the door would open. He gives a faint 'huh', and pulls out his key.

Which won't go in. He looks at the keyhole and... there's no hole. The key won't fit because there's nowhere to put it. "Hey!" He looks up at her windows, knocking on the door. "What's that about?"

Charley's eager anticipation falters somewhat when the Doctor pauses, frowning down at the keyhole-- which isn't a keyhole at all at the moment. 'Oh dear,' she murmurs, and then ventures, 'It isn't-- I don't suppose it's me, Doctor? I mean-- the TARDIS never particularly liked me, did she?'

Which Charley had always privately thought was rather unfair; after all, it wasn't as if she'd asked to be made the centre of a universe-rending paradox. And she'd appreciated the TARDIS, and always gone out of her way to be polite to her. ... At least, she had after she realised the full extent of the TARDIS's sentience. Mostly. But even Mila had said it; that was why she'd been able to infect Charley, because the TARDIS hadn't protected her the way she'd done for the Doctor's other companions.

And now it occurs to her, even if the Viyrans had erased the Doctor's memories of her, they'd done nothing of the sort to the TARDIS; the ship must have known about her as soon as the Doctor had brought her back from the R101. Two paradoxes, not just the one; no-wonder she'd taken against Charley as much as she had.

Still, it hardly does wonders for a girl's ego, and Charley frowns up at the ship. 'Oh, come on! I'm not paradoxical anymore, honestly!' The shouting probably isn't necessary, really, but she does it anyway.

The Doctor doesn't answer, focused on the TARDIS for the moment, though the thought had occurred to him that the TARDIS wouldn't be the most thrilled about Charley being here.

For a moment he's worried, that something is wrong and she doesn't mean to lock him out. He places his palms on the door and reaches out for her telepathically, only to be rebuffed with what feels like a distinct huff, and even shut out from her mind. That stings a little, actually.

He pulls back, frowning, then turns to Charley. "Can I borrow the wristband again?" he asks, holding out his hand.

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