Charley/Eighth Doctor, rating M. Angst/Romance/Introspection/Hurt+Comfort

Trigger warning: mentions of self-harm and suicide, as per the Big Finish Productions "The Chimes of Midnight". This story takes place immediately after this episode.

Tried to be as canon-ish as possible. This is my first Charley and Eight fic, (and my first time writing any smut!) so give me a little credit for trying. :)

Italics are direct quotes from "The Chimes of Midnight" by Robert Shearman. That scary-ass bastard.

Charley woke sharply, the cold weight of the knife a ghost in her hands, and the salted, metallic tang of blood lingering in the air as the dream evaporated and her senses came back.

She rubbed her face into her hands, moaning softly, willing away Edith's words once again, along with the nightmare's sweat on her brow. Charley didn't need to glance at the nearby clock to know it was well and late into the night. She'd looked at the clock only an hour or so ago, after the nightmare had disappated for the what? Third time tonight? Or was it the fourth? Either way, it seemed like sleep was not to be her companion this evening.

Sighing heavily, she ran over the day's events again in her mind. Edith Thompson, the scullery maid. She'd killed herself for Charley. But Charley was alive, despite all odds. Charley knew she should've been found some months ago, charred and taken by the flames of the R-101.

Are you dead, my poppet, or are you alive?

But the Doctor had saved her. And they had stopped the paradox of Edward Grove, saving Edith in the process. None of those horrific things had happened. There was no blood. No knife. No death.

Then why was she still trembling?

Am I dead, or am I alive? You must know...

Charley swung her legs out of bed, and stood barefoot in her nightdress. Maybe the Doctor would know the answer. He rarely slept, he'd told her so himself. Hopefully he was true to his word on this. She could use a comforting word right now, and maybe just to be held for a moment in his gentle arms, ears desperate to hear the sound of those strange hearts.

She flushed as her thoughts became distracted. She'd never admit the effect he held over her, but Charley's affection toward the Doctor had grown significantly in the past few months. What started out as playful, innocent flirtation had sparked a flame in her heart, one that threatened to blaze out of control if she weren't careful.

Charley, I need you.

Charley shivered, and pulled the soft, cream coloured knitted blanket from the end of her bed, draping it about her shoulders. Now it was the Doctor's turn to echo about in her mind.

Without you I would just be a lonely old man rattling around in the TARDIS with no-one to talk to, my life going round and round without meaning, my life going round in circles...

What did he mean by it, she wondered? Surely he didn't need her quite that much, no matter what he'd said. She was just a girl. He was a Time Lord, with all of the universe splayed out before him, just waiting, just for him. Adventures, excitement, dangers and wonders... what could he possibly need a human girl for?

Charley sighed again. Alive, or dead? Truly needed, or were those just careless words meant to bring her back from the brink? What did it mean?

Pulling the blanket tightly around her, Charley started walking. No matter what happened, she needed the Doctor to answer some questions, or she doubted she'd ever sleep again...