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. :)

When Charley finally found the Doctor, he was in the console room. Padding in on bare feet, her steps were muffled, and he didn't seem to hear her approach. She sighed wistfully, studying him for a moment in the darkened doorway, following the shape of his form cast in the pale bluish light of the time rotor.

She couldn't remember even having seen him in such a state of undress before. The Doctor was curled up in one of the large wingback chairs, his heavy velvet coat draped haphazardly over the arm of the chair, with a scrap of silver tucked in amongst it – his cravat, then. His legs were pulled up, shoes and socks discarded, bare toes clutching at the edge of the cushion. His long fingered hands were buried deep and tight in his light brown curls, as though trying to pluck away at maddening thoughts.

Charley felt herself jump as the Doctor suddenly lifted his head and met her eyes, startled. He looked haunted, and so very sad. It was all she could do not to run to his side, and hold him until the sadness and fear melted away, for both of them.

"Charley," he whispered.

Her feet moved of their own accord, cold against the wooden floors. Suddenly awkward, Charley ran a hand through her tousled hair, and shrugged the blanket more firmly over her shoulders, attempting to regain some semblance of decency. He wasn't the only one dressed out of sorts at the moment.

"Doctor?"

The sound of her voice was all it took to bring the Doctor back from wherever he had disappeared to in his mind. "You're," he paused, and she could practically see his thoughts clearing, brightness returning to those soft, grey-blue eyes. "Charley, what are you doing awake at this hour? Usually you're fast asleep by now."

Jumping out of the chair, his pacing and voice became clearer still, until he was as usual. "Especially after the day we've just had, or was it days? I'm not sure any more. Still, Miss Pollard, you should be well and adrift in dreamland." He stopped just in front of her, playfully wagging a finger at her, tsking like a well-meaning parent.

His use of 'Miss Pollard' snapped Charley's attention back into focus as well. "Actually..." And now it was her turn to hesitate. Which questions to ask first? She mulled it over while the words "I couldn't sleep," rolled unbidden off her tongue.

Gently, the Doctor placed his hands on her arms, squeezing slightly like a small embrace. His eyes clouded over for a moment, and he spoke as they refocussed again. "Nightmares? Of Edith. And blood." He murmured.

Charley wasn't certain to whom he was speaking – himself, or her – as was often the case when he had these moments of strangeness. It was as though he were reading her like a book, although he had sworn multiple times that, despite being a touch-telepath, he would never go sauntering into her thoughts unwelcomed. Sometimes she wasn't sure how truthful he had been about that.

Charley shuddered, remembering the echoes of Edith's pained voice. She lifted her gaze to meet his in admission. "Yes."

"Oh, Charley." The Doctor sighed. Standing so close – he'd yet to release her arms from his grip – she could feel the cool brush of his breath against her face. Charley found herself wondering how it would feel to lean forward that slight distance, to close the gap of propriety between them and press her lips against his, even just for a moment. Her face flushed, and she hoped desperately that he wouldn't notice in the dim light of the console room.

Then, as though struck, the Doctor leaped away from her, becoming a whirling blur of energy and excitement as he sped toward the console. "That's it! Oh, Doctor, you're brilliant!" He exclaimed, grinning like a fool as he turned dials and moved levers in directions Charley found meaningless.

"Doctor?"

"Charley," the Doctor locked eyes with her. "Since you're awake, how do you fancy a little excursion?" Manic glee sparkled in those clear eyes.

His excitement was infectious, and Charley tried to push all those worries to the back of her mind as it enveloped her. She shook her head, chuckling softly, and the Doctor only beamed brighter. Charley could deny him so little at times.

"So long as there's no snow, or Christmas, or plum pudding involved, I suppose I could be convinced to have a small adventure in the middle of the night. " She smiled teasingly. "Will I be required to change my attire, or is nightdress and crocheted blanket cosidered suitable?"

Never missing a beat, the Doctor threw down the final switch, sending the TARDIS into action, its wheezing, groaning engine only adding to the feeling of strange thrill that had begun to bloom in the air.

"Why, Charlotte, your attire, you'll find, is positively more than adequate." He replied with equal flirtation. "In fact," the Doctor continued, "I think we make a fine pair dressed as such." Preening at his waistcoat and the open collar of his shirt, he grinned again and bounded toward the doors, still as barefoot as she.

Charley couldn't help but laugh. His mercurial nature made her life a whirlwind, and although none of this evening had answered a single one of her questions, she let herself get caught up in the swirling, wonderful madness that was the Doctor.

The Doctor threw the doors open, and Charley inhaled deeply of the warm, fragrant breeze that glided in through them. Well, she wouldn't be in need of shoes for warmth, she thought gratefully.

"So, what trouble have you landed us this time, with no shoes and myself in my bed clothes?" Charley elbowed him playfully as she stepped up next to him.

A look of mock pain crossed his gentle face. "Trouble? Charlotte Pollard, when would I ever do that to you?" Before Charley had a chance to respond, he added "Intentionally?" and Charley closed her mouth promptly, swallowing her retort with a small laugh.

The Doctor smiled back, and turned to look at the scenery before them. "I've landed us on a planet that humans have only recently terraformed. It won't yet be inhabited for another one hundred and thirty years, give or take a decade. Your lot is still on their way. Thirty-five billion lightyears is quite a drive for humanity at this point."

Charley followed his gaze outward. He'd landed the TARDIS on a small meadow in the twilight. Billions of stars twinkled and shimmered in the deep sapphire sky, where a pair of small, twin moons cast their strange, pale amethyst light. She could hear the sound of waves nearby. There must be a beach just over the crest of the meadow. An ocean, perhaps? The air smelled spiced and sweet, its warmth imbedding itself in Charley's bones, chasing off any lingering chill from her nightmares.

"It's beautiful." She whispered, and she felt the Doctor's hand entwine with hers as she stared.

"Come, Charley." He tugged her hand gently, pulling her from the doorway and out into the softness of the dark grass and starlight. The Doctor smiled at her strangely, and Charley felt her insides swoop as he spoke again. "Let us chase away our nightmares, and we'll lie in the grass while and stare at the stars together." He flinched slightly and the strangeness left his face as he continued. "It's safe here. I promise."

She squeezed his hand in reply. I want to trust you, she wanted to say. I want to do more than chase away your nightmares for a single evening, if you'd let me in. Instead, Charley just smiled softly, and straightened the set of her shoulders as they fell free of her blanket.

Without another word, he led her toward the beach.