(no subject)

[cosmic_celery]

For notusachan:



Fitz stood outside in the dark and shivered. He was just stepping on his
cigarette butt when the door opened behind him and light from the kitchen
spilled out. The Doctor stood silhouetted. ‘You’ll catch your death out here.’
‘Should’ve got me coat first,’ said Fitz. ‘To think in the twenty-first century
we’ll all have to smoke in the back yard.’
The Doctor shut the door behind him, pulling on his own coat. ‘Some people
call it progress.’
‘I call it criminal.’
‘Cheer up, Fitz. What’s got into you?’
‘It’s the wine. It always makes me morose. I prefer beer.’
‘Hazel’s made some coffee. Go and get some, it’ll help warm you up.’
‘It’s not that, Doc.’ Fitz sighed. ‘I just don’t know what we’re doing here.
Here, in this house, with this family. They’re normal, nice people. What are
we doing getting mixed up with them?’
The Doctor shrugged. ‘They’ve got a problem, and we can help. What other
reason do we need?’
Fitz looked up at the night sky. It was a cold, freezing night with no cloud.
The stars were just about visible through the haze of city lights. ‘We should
be out there, roaming through time and space. Saving planets, galaxies, all of
that.’
‘I see,’ said the Doctor. ‘You mean the McKeowns are too small for us to be
bothering with?’
‘No, that’s not what I mean,’ Fitz said, sharply. ‘It’s just that I’m used to the
bigger picture, I suppose.’
‘Ah, the bigger picture. Well, you know what they say: the Devil’s in the
detail. It’s a big universe, all right – one of many – but in the end the important
things in any universe are the people. People like the McKeowns. People like
you and me, Fitz.’
Fitz sighed. ‘Yeah, I know. Ignore me, it’s the wine talking.’
‘It could also be that you’re frightened of the Earth,’ said the Doctor casualty.
‘What? Get outta here! This is my home planet you’re talking about.’
‘Is it?’
Fitz said nothing. The Doctor watched him carefully ‘I mean, it’s been a
long time, hasn’t it, since you left the Earth to see the universe with me.’
Fitz had lost track of the time he had spent in the Doctor’s TARDIS. It felt
like years; in fact it must have been years. Long enough for him to not really
remember a life beforehand, at least. He sniffed and said, ‘Yeah, well, you
need someone to look out for you, don’t you?’ He paused long enough to light
another cigarette and added, ‘Besides, where else have I got to go?’
‘Exactly,’ said the Doctor, and Fitz didn’t much like the way he said it. ‘The
TARDIS is more of a home to you now than this planet, or any planet.’
‘So what are you saying?’ Fitz asked. ‘That I’m just like you?’
The Doctor shook his head. ‘Like I said, you’re scared of being here – scared
of being on Earth. Because when it’s time to leave you might find you want to
stay.’
‘No chance.’ Fitz straightened and took a final, decisive drag on his
cigarette. ‘Let’s stop talking about it because it’s not going to happen. We’ve
got a job to do here, haven’t we? Let’s get on with it.’
The Doctor watched him for a long moment, and then clapped him affectionately
on the arm. ‘Of course. I think I’ve made a little progress today, as it
happens.’
‘Yeah? You got your psychic detector gizmo working properly?’
‘No, better than that: I met a mad old Gypsy who warned me not to interfere
in things I didn’t understand.’
‘You always know the nicest people. Interfere with what, exactly?’
‘The old stone monument you found in the woods. Apparently it’s haunted.

___


They fell into step on the pavement and headed for the park. A man passed
them walking his dog, and further up the avenue a bus was pulling away from
a stop. Otherwise it was quiet.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ began Fitz after a short while, ‘about what we talked
about in the garden.’ The Doctor said nothing, so he carried on: ‘Maybe you’re
right. I don’t feel like I belong on Earth any more. The TARDIS is my home
now. But I’m cool with that.’
The Doctor said, ‘Good.’
‘So. . . I was wondering,’ Fitz continued, as they started up the long slope
of grass that led to the trees. ‘What about you?’
‘What about me?’
‘Well, you were stuck here for a hundred years, once. And even now we
keep coming back to Earth, or at least the TARDIS keeps bringing us back. So
how do you feel about that?’
‘Fine.’
‘Just “fine”?’ Fitz switched on the torch as they left the amber glow of the
street lights behind. ‘All Time and Space is yours to roam, and you think it’s
fine to keep coming back to Earth?’
‘Fitz, Fitz, Fitz,’ said the Doctor, stopping. Fitz raised the torch until the
light fell across his friend’s long face. ‘Don’t you understand? I love Earth.
I love it. The people, the countryside, the animals. The arts, the sciences,
the languages and music, and, of course, the cooking.’ He suddenly started
walking again, arms upraised, turning and looking at the stars as he spoke:
‘Where would I be without the Earth? What would I be? And you’ve only
got to look at the TARDIS to see how much the old thing loves Earth too. No
matter where we go, or when, we always come back here because only this
place feels like home.’
Fitz grinned as the Doctor spun around in the torch light. ‘But what do you
like about it the most?’
‘The monsters.’

__

‘Bacon, eggs, sausage and black pudding!’ said the Doctor.
‘With fried bread and plenty of brown sauce!’ laughed Fitz.
‘And strong, hot army tea!’
‘Pure malt Scotch.’
‘The smell of freshly cut grass.’
‘The sound of a rotary mower on a summer afternoon. . . ’
They were walking through the dark woods now, keeping to the path in the
circle of light thrown by Fitz’s torch. They were still bouncing favourite Earth
things back and forth.
‘Snow on Christmas Day,’ said the Doctor.
‘A winter evening in front of a real fire,’ said Fitz.
‘The sound of a cat purring.’
‘Beautiful women. . . ’ said Fitz wistfully.
‘Ghost stories!’ cried the Doctor. ‘I love ghost stories. I knew Edgar Allan
Poe, you know.’
‘I could have guessed,’ smiled Fitz ruefully.

__

‘Well, recently, someone else has been making moves.’
‘Trix?’
The Doctor shook his head. ‘I asked her, but she said she hadn’t and I believed her.’
‘You never asked me if I’d made any moves,’ said Fitz, slightly aggrieved.
‘Well, no, I didn’t need to. None of the moves that were made were the kind of moves you would have made.’
Fitz eyed him suspiciously. ‘In what way, exactly?’
‘They were too cunning, too well planned. Your game is spontaneous and chancy. No, whoever was moving the pieces is in possession of a first-class mind.’
‘Thank you,’ said Fitz drily.

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God I love them.