Impressions

A/N: This piece was meant to be a single scene and instead it turned into a novella. The purpose was to push the limits of the Doctor/Charley relationship and I think my cowriter (thagrrrl79) and I accomplished that. But as such, I don't recommend reading this without first reading the other scenes and short stories we have written that make this otherwise out-of-character depiction POSSIBLE. In other words, please don't start here. Anyone critical of character portrayal, wanting it to stay true to canon (of which I AM one of those readers), will most likely form a hell of an opinion about our ability to grasp these characters if they haven't seen the progression.

1*TARDIS*1

"You're not honestly expecting to wear that?"

The Doctor glanced up from the Tardis console with a startled, confused look. Charley was standing just beyond the pillars, studying him with wary curiosity. He turned down the music - the upbeat pop of the late 20th century - and looked down at his attire. He was wearing what he always wore nowadays. It was safe, for most places that he traveled, and he wouldn't have thought this outing to be any different.

"What's wrong with it?" he asked.

Her brows raised. "You're not serious."

He frowned. He'd gone through the added effort of period dress more often when he'd traveled with Charley than any other time in his lives. But he'd never really given it much thought. It had just felt natural to blend in. Now, nothing felt more natural than his military jacket and jeans.

Charley sighed disapprovingly. "My mother hasn't seen me in six years. I haven't seen her in at least twice that time." She stepped closer and ran a finger along the lapel of his jacket. "It's 1935 and I'm showing up with a strange man and a little girl. Could you at least look less like an alien from outer space?"

He raised a brow at her high neckline and ankle-length skirts. "You're not exactly dressed for 1935, either," he pointed out. "You'd need to take off half of that at least."

"My family has always been very conservative. Trust me, I'm dressed appropriately."

"For all intents and purposes, you died six years ago," he reminded her as he checked the scanner once more. But they were alone, in the small wooded area behind the large house Charley had grown up in. "I think our choice of clothing will be the least of what crosses your mother's mind when she sees you."

"Be that as it may, it's a little thing that will make a big difference."

She reached up, and turned his face toward her with gentle fingers on his cheek.

"Please, Doctor," she said softly. "For me."

He opened his mouth to reply, but didn't have a chance before the door at the top of the steps leading into the Tardis hallway flung open and a little girl rushed out in a flurry of tappy shoes and rustling fabric. She was most certainly not dressed appropriately. There was more glittering tulle on her princess dress than there was actual fabric. "Mum, can I wear this one?"

Charley glanced up at her and did a double take. "Honey, I showed you which ones you can wear."

The four-year-old gave a whine, tipping her head back and slumping forward. "But Mum, those dresses are boring!"

Charley covered her face with her hand. "Either pick one from the five I showed you or I will come up there and choose it for you."

Julia heaved an irritated "hrumph" before turning and heading back down the hallway.

"Five dresses," Charley muttered under her breath. "I gave her five dresses to choose from. That's more than even I had at her age."

The Doctor smiled to himself and checked the console once more. October 20th, 1935, half a kilometer from her family's front door, as requested. He knew Charley was uncomfortable being here. He also knew that in spite of her anxiety, she wanted very much to be here. Still, the tightness in her posture was more genuine than her smile at the moment.

"And what about me?" he asked her. "What is it you'd like me to wear?"

"Well, I was thinking you could wear your old outfit," she said, glancing back at him. "The one from when I first traveled with you?"

He laughed. "Charley, that's Victorian era! Decades ago!"

"Then modify it slightly. It's still better than," she waved her hands up and down, "this."

He paused, and continued thoughtfully, to himself. "Come to think of it, this jacket is not too far off from this period. Though I wouldn't want to have to make small talk about military affairs, come to that."

Ignoring him, she sighed and took his hand in hers as if leading a child. "Come on. I'll find you something."

He didn't resist, withdrawing his hand and slipping an arm behind her as he followed her up the steps. After all, he didn't particularly mind period dress. It just seemed rather like an unnecessary hassle lately. Still, if she was going to lay his clothes out for him, it wouldn't be difficult to simply put them on.

"Actually," the stress and tension in her voice was more evident with each passing moment. "Why don't you go hop in the shower and I'll try to find something a bit more appropriate?"

"Charley..."

He paused at the door to the hallway, pulling her to a stop beside him. More startled than she should've been, she looked up like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. She was good at hiding all of her anxiety and nervousness under a calm exterior, but he'd grown up witnessing the attempted stoicism of the Time Lords. He could see right through her.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked again.

She laughed tightly. "Doctor, it's not like it's the first time I've picked out your clothes."

He smiled, and reached up a hand to cup the side of her face. "That's not what I meant."

She smiled back and nuzzled into his hand. "I know what you meant, Doctor. And yes, I want to do this."

"You're absolutely sure?"

She nodded. "I miss my family terribly and want more than anything for them to meet you and Julia. I'm just nervous, is all. It has been a very long time and I'd long ago come to terms with the fact that I could never see them again."

"That paradox was resolved; there's no reason why you can't see them," he clarified. "But it doesn't mean you have to do."

"Yes, I do," she whispered. "They're my family and I love them."

He took a step closer, wrapping his other arm around her waist and pulling her close against him. She leaned her head on his chest as she heaved a deep sigh, nuzzling him. For a long moment, he just held her close. Finally, she looked up at him, eyes sparkling, and he saw through the stress to her genuine smile.

"And it is beyond time they met the man I love more than air," she finished softly. "And our little girl."

He chuckled quietly, then leaned in to kiss her lips lightly. He wasn't entirely sure when Julia had made the transition, in Charley's mind at least, to being "ours". But for his part, he had fallen in love with the child the moment he'd realized who she was in relation to Charley. All that he had devoted to her since then was hardly an effort. The fact that she didn't bear his genetic code made her no less his daughter in his mind.

"As long as you're sure," he whispered.

"I'm sure."

He kissed her lightly before he pulled away and turned to open the door. Squeezing his hand, she followed after. A few steps down the hallway, she released his hand and split off to head for the wardrobe. "I'll go see what I can find and meet up with you in a bit."

He nodded, and watched her go out of the corner of his eye as he turned into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The dark room came to life instantly, as if he'd activated some sort of motion sensor. In fact, it was at once both more and less complicated than that. His symbiotic link with his ship had been strengthened by centuries of practical experience. There was no thought to the synchronization between them. Where his presence went, her sentience awoke - a constant companion and yet never an intruding presence. The Tardis was as much a part of him as he was a part of her.

He took a moment to study himself silently in the mirror. He'd spent almost seven hundred years in this body - the vast majority of those on Orbis - and he looked much older than he had all those years ago, when he had saved Charley from the wreckage of the R-101. It was one of the most irresponsible things he'd ever done in all his lives - and the one he regretted the least. They might have very nearly ripped apart the Web of Time, though it was difficult to know how badly exaggerated the threat had been when the CIA certainly had ulterior motives for bringing him back to Gallifrey to tell him about it. In either case, he'd paid for his indiscretion in the Divergent Universe - with blood and sweat and tears and oh, so many nights of sensory deprivation. And it had been worth every second.

With a sigh, he rolled his shoulders back and let the jacket fall into one hand. He threw it over the nearby chair before stripping his shirt, realizing the slight ache in his shoulders as he lifted his arms over his head. As he dropped the shirt to the floor, his eyes turned back to the mirror and his hand drifted naturally, almost instinctively, to the scars on his chest. The memories resurfaced instantly. All of the pain and all of the sacrifice... the fear of falling in love. He smiled to himself. Those scars were more precious to him than words could describe.

He finished stripping his clothes before turning on the hot water and stepping into the spray while it was still warming. The chill made him shiver initially, but it warmed almost as fast as his body adjusted, and his eyes slid closed as tensed muscles slowly relaxed. For a moment, he let his mind wander to nothingness and back again to the awareness of solitude, the hot sting of the water easing away the tightness in his shoulders before it ran in streams down his back, across his chest. He sighed contentedly, and faced the spray as he pushed his hands back through his hair. This was truly one of the finer luxuries in life - hot water and safety, the clean smell of soap and thick steam in the air.

He washed quickly, pausing just long enough to squeeze his palms over his shoulders a few times to loosen them. He was tense. Not because of their intended destination. In fact, it had been his suggestion to return to the Pollard Estate, some years after their daughter had gone missing aboard the crashed airship. He'd told Charley that he wanted to see the home she'd grown up in, and that was true. But more than that, he wanted to put to rest those thoughts that seemed to surface more and more lately about what she had left behind. She was hardly mourning her previous life; she had left it for a reason and he knew she would never so much as think to go back to it. But that didn't make her miss her mother any less, no matter how many differences they'd had. He understood, in a way. It was the same way he felt about Gallifrey, and about lounging in the red grass and watching the twin suns set behind the Citadel.

"Doctor?" He heard the door open at the same time that he heard Charley's voice. "I think I found a few things that will work."

Rinsing quickly, he shut off the water and shook out his hair before peeking around the wall that separated him from the dry area by the sink, where Charley was carefully scrutinizing two suits - one in either hand - tilting her head this way and that as she studied them in the mirror. Unnoticed, he grabbed the towel off the rack and toweled his hair dry before tucking it around his waist and stepping around the wall to join her. She didn't look up at the sound of his wet footsteps on the tile.

"You were right; your old outfit would be a bit too outdated. But I did find these two suits that are very similar to something Papa would wear. What do you think?"

She lifted her eyes to his reflection in the mirror, and hesitated a beat before she turned to look over her shoulder at him. He wasn't sure if it was relief or disappointment on her face when she saw the towel. But either way, her cheeks flushed slightly as she gazed up and down his body, pausing slightly on his scars and again on the edge of the towel. Then, as if she were trying to avoid being caught, she snapped her eyes back up to meet his.

"Which do you think is better?" she asked, struggling for a casual tone as she turned fully to face him.

"I don't know. You're the expert."

He stepped closer, and reached out to touch the fabric of one of the suits. But it didn't interest him quite as much as the flush in her cheeks. Smiling to himself, he suddenly wished she wasn't already dressed and ready to leave.

"I'm hardly the expert here, Doctor," she answered with a tight laugh. She lowered the suits and took a small, almost imperceptible step toward him. "As I recall, you were the one offering fashion advice to me not that long ago."

He smiled, and circled an arm around her, pulling her tight against him as she held the suits out of the way for a moment, then dropped them unceremoniously on the floor.

"I hope you're not expecting me to try on various outfits and model them for you," he teased.

"I wouldn't complain if you did."

He chuckled and kissed her lips lightly. "Some other time, I think."

The spark in her eyes turned more mischievous as her fingers trailed lightly across his chest. "Would you wear whatever I wanted you to?"

He laughed. "You sound as if you've thought this through."

"Maybe." Dragging the nails of one hand across his shoulder, she began tracing his scars. She tilted her head to one side, lost in thought, as her eyes followed her motions. "You don't honestly think that's the first time I've played dress-up in there, do you?" she asked.

He rubbed his thumb gently over the small of her back, watching her with a slight, knowing smile. "Tease..."

"Moi?" She asked, feigning indignance. "A tease? Never!"

He laughed and pulled her closer, dropping his head to kiss the side of her neck as her touch wandered oh-so-innocently down to his stomach and around his side. Her fingers ghosted over the top edge of the towel, and he smiled knowingly, letting out a soft sigh as nerves became instantly sensitized under her touch. His kisses on her neck gained a hint of teeth as he breathed in her scent.

"Careful, Charley," he warned playfully. "I may not let you leave this room with those clothes in one piece."

She chuckled. "I suppose you'll have to exercise some restraint."

"Restraints could be arranged."

The fingers of her roaming hand found their way under the edge of the towel and his soft hum turned to a moan as he pushed his hips forward instinctively, into her hand. Her touch was warm and inviting. His body was reacting - naturally, instinctively - and his mind was filled with images and ideas of her, of sex, of things they had done and had yet to do. He left her neck, tipping his head back as she snaked her fingers into his hair, and drew in a slow, deep breath. Her kisses were trailing along his chest, over his collarbone, up to the base of his neck, nipping at his pulse points, and he let out a low moan as she grazed her teeth across his Adam's apple.

"You know, we could always piece my clothing back together," she whispered.

He laughed, a slightly breathy sound, and buried a hand in her hair as she kissed along his jaw.

"Or..."

She found where the towel was bound and untucked it. He felt it brush his legs as it dropped to the floor and she smiled up at him with gleaming eyes. Slowly, her hand continued to travel down his stomach, moving to his hip and sliding down his thigh. She grazed her nails along his leg as she brought her hand back up and around, digging them into his buttocks, pulling him closer to her. He groaned as his body responded and took a moment to make sure his voice wouldn't crack before he answered her.

"Or?"

She smiled as she rested her hands on his chest, slowly trailing down as she carefully lowered herself to her knees, fanning her skirts around her. She didn't have to speak. He knew what she had in mind, and he knew exactly how good it would feel. With a soft, needful sigh, he slid his hands into her hair - not gripping her, just touching the only part of her that he could easily reach as she cupped him gently in her hands and placed a few light, fleeting kisses along his length.

He moaned appreciatively at the way her thumb rubbed in tiny circles on his already-wet tip. Her tiny, delicate hand felt so different from his own - soft, but not uncertain, hesitant but not unsure. She knew his body intimately; she knew everything that made his mind race.

"Yes, Charley..."

Her kisses turned more firm, and finally, she parted her lips, drawing him into her warmth. That first long, slow slide along her tongue was blissful. He couldn't even think for all the pleasure that fired off, all at once, in his mind. He groaned. She hummed softly, fingertips gently probing and exploring what she couldn't take into her hot mouth.

The knock on the door barely registered in his awareness. But the little girl's voice was hard to ignore. "Mum, I can't do the buttons."

Charley pulled away abruptly, and he gasped at the sudden cool air that replaced her warm sheath. She was on her feet and turned towards the door before it cracked opened, and the little girl stuck her head inside.

"Go back to your room, Julia," Charley said firmly.

"But I can't do it!"

"I'll be there in a moment to help you. Go back to your room."

With a pout, Julia closed the door again. Charley let out a breath, and raised a hand to her forehead, pushing her hair back. "I do wish she would learn about closed doors."

The Doctor wasn't thinking about closed doors. He was thinking about the cool air and how much he really wanted the warmth of her mouth - if not other places - around his erection. But as Charley turned back to him, he saw immediately that her expression was apologetic. "We'll pick this up later."

He groaned. "Charley, it'll take five minutes."

"Doctor, she's an impatient child," she answered, mimicking his tone. "If I don't go help her now, she'll be back again in one minute and may not afford us the courtesy of knocking."

The groan was deeper this time, in earnest. "Charley..."

"Besides." A smile crept across her lips as she reached down between them, wrapping her fingers gently around his full erection. It was not the warmth and wetness he craved, but it made him gasp all the same. "I'll make it up to you later."

He pushed into her hand, but she pulled it away. Growling in frustration, he was still trying to come up with a decent protest - besides the one so prominently on display between them - when she stepped in closer and kissed him hard.

"I promise," she whispered into his mouth. "I'll make it up to you."

He frowned at her as she pulled away again and headed to the door. He wanted to stop her, and his mind was filled with visions of grabbing her by the waist and pulling her to the tile floor in a messy, wrestling, giggling fit, of holding her down and plunging inside of her. How hard could it really be to push those skirts up past her waist and take her right now? He didn't even need five minutes to find relief...

But she was halfway to the door, and if he was going to do that, he'd already missed his opportunity. Instead, he shot her a meaningful glare as she paused long enough to cast him a reassuring smile, then disappeared, leaving him to deal with his own "problem."