"What did she call them?" the Doctor asked, failing to contain a smirk.
"Snappy and Snuggles!" Charlie whined, struggling to come to terms with their situation.
Charlie had been roughly shoved in a cell adjacent to the Doctor's, deep in the dungeons of Cleopatra's palace. Within a few hours, they would be executed.
However, Charlie was pretty confident that the Doctor would find a way for them to escape, despite their incarceration in locked and guarded iron cages.
There were a few other cells in the damp, decaying dungeon. The only other cellmate was a rotting skeleton, which seemed a little too clichéd for Charlie to take seriously.
"She named her crocodiles Snappy and Snuggles?" the Doctor guffawed. "She's crazier than I thought."
"Doctor!" snapped Charlie. "We're going to be executed in oh, a couple hours! Thrown to the crocodiles!"
The Doctor shook his head. "Sorry, it's been"- the Doctor burst out laughing again -"It's been years since I had a good chuckle."
The Doctor finished laughing, and looked over in concern at Charlie, who was tugging fretfully at his hair. He seemed to be on the verge of a panic attack.
The Doctor, however, remained pretty calm. There had been a realisation, in the early days, that being locked up, alone in a cell, wasn't the worst thing that could happen to him.
"How are we gonna get out?" groaned Charlie, slumping into a sodden pile of straw. "You left the sonic screwdriver in the TARDIS."
"I know. Our feline friend didn't seem to like the noise it made."
"Yeah, I guess," Charlie mumbled, scraping at the floor with a stick.
"Don't worry, I used to do this a lot when I was younger," the Doctor added. "Never stopped me then. There's always another way."
He frowned. His reassuring words didn't seem to be having any effect on Charlie. He was still hunched up in the corner of the cell, looking increasingly worried.
"Why does this always happen?" Charlie groaned.
"Why does what happen?"
"Well," began Charlie. "We're always getting locked up, or chased, or… or shot at. We're always in danger."
"Yes," the Doctor agreed, unsure what point Charlie was making. "What about it?"
"It's like…" Charlie faltered, as he tried to make sense of his thoughts. "I shouldn't… enjoy it as much as I do."
The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "It's definitely an alternative lifestyle."
"I've never been happier," Charlie stated, with honesty. "It's weird. I thought…"
Charlie stared at the rusting iron bars of his cage, a faraway look in his eyes.
"I thought I'd never be happy again," he muttered, finally.
There was a long silence.
The Doctor finally asked: "What's wrong, Charlie?" fully expecting the answer to be along the lines of 'Nothing, I'm fine.'
Instead, Charlie hesitated. "I don't know. I…"
He looked up at the Doctor, nervously, unable to maintain eye contact for more than 0.8 seconds.
"It probably sounds stupid…"
The Doctor shrugged. "That's okay. Humans are like that."
Charlie shook his head, smiling. As he spoke, his serious expression returned.
"I guess I'm scared that this is gonna end. One day, I won't be doing this with you."
"Should that be a bad thing?"
Charlie looked at him for a moment. He didn't know how to respond.
The Doctor watched Charlie, as he pondered on the thought, and smiled.
"Do you know why I took you with me?"
"To avoid a time travel paradox?" Charlie suggested.
"Apart from that."
"No," admitted Charlie. "I've thought about it a lot. I began to realise how important your friends are. I mean, everyone who travels with you is… really lucky to see everything you see. Travelling with you… it's almost like I've been chosen over every other person on the planet."
Charlie took a deep breath, and scrutinised his hands.
"And I just don't think I'm worthy of it."
"And why not?" the Doctor asked gently.
Charlie shrugged, rubbing his arms.
"I'm no-one special. I've done nothing special. My head's a mess. I've made mistakes, and I… just don't think I've earned the right."
The Doctor regarded Charlie passively for a moment. He was giving nothing away.
"Do you know why you're wrong?" the Doctor questioned.
Charlie frowned.
Before he could respond, a glow from the opposite wall distracted him. The Doctor and Charlie watched in astonishment as the tabby kitten casually ambled through the solid stone.
"Don't move," whispered the Doctor, his senses alert.
The kitten regarded them for a moment, and slunk through the bars in the opposite row of cages.
"Okay, here's my plan," hissed the Doctor, "Wait for it to come closer. Then I'll try and grab it from behind. You keep it occupied."
Charlie sat as still as possible, as the kitten padded closer, curious. He held his breath, and as soon as the kitten was within reach of the Doctor, he reached through the bars, and presented his hand.
The cat sniffed the proffered hand, and stared up at him with cute, but vulnerable eyes. Charlie tentatively placed his hand behind the kitten's ear, and stroked the back of its head. He smiled, consciously ignoring the Doctor as his arms inched through the cage, just behind the animal's line of sight, attempting not to alert it to his presence.
The kitten began to purr, softly. Charlie felt the noise resonate within him, and found it soothing. He looked into its mesmerising eyes, and felt a strange connection between them.
As he stared into the dilated pupils, Charlie felt himself drawn in by the irises, burning an icy blue. Words formed vaguely in his mind.
Who are you?
Charlie frowned, imploringly.
"What did you say?" he breathed.
A loud thump from the door startled him. The kitten evaporated in a haze of blue dust.
The Doctor's outstretched hands clasped thin air, and he smacked his head on the metal bars as he lost his balance.
"Not again!" groaned Charlie.
One of the guards thrust open the heavy dungeon door.
"The Queen has ordered that your execution be brought forward two hours."
"Get lost, pudding-brain!" the Doctor yelled.
Charlie fretfully massaged his forehead. "We have to go after it."
"Did you understand that?" the guard rumbled. "You are to be executed now!"
"Why? Is she that bored?" sniped the Doctor. "For god's sake, get her a hobby."
The guard looked affronted, and pulled out a long, curved sword.
"There'd better not be any trouble…" he warned.
"Look, do you mind?" interjected Charlie apologetically. "We're kinda busy at the moment."
The Doctor unbuttoned his left shift cuff, and rolled up his sleeve. He was wearing a gold-plated bracelet, engraved with strange alien insignia. Carefully twisting one of the dials on the device revealed a hidden compartment, filled with dozens of tiny whirring gears.
Charlie thrust his hand through the bars, and grabbed the Doctor's wrist, as he activated the device.
The cell around them flickered, like an old videotape played in fast forward. The guard's expression of surprise vanished in dust. Charlie felt every inch of his body being crushed, pressing the air out of his lungs.