Doctor Who | Foreign Correspondence
Apr. 16th, 2008 11:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eponymous_roseTitle: Foreign Correspondence
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eponymous_rose
Word Count: 865
Rating: G
Characters: Susan, David
Spoilers: References to Dalek Invasion of Earth, Terror of the Zygons, and The Deadly Assassin, among others.
Summary: Susan finds a letter in a library, a story on the cliffs. Life goes on.
The first message came when they started reclaiming the city for the second time; the Daleks may have gone, but dust and time hung heavy in their wake.
Susan was clearing up a pile of old books and papers from the corner of what was once a public library (she'd been amused to find that, despite all electronic advances, the pocket paperbacks she'd read so many years before were still in abundance), when she caught sight of the bit of the paper wedged between two volumes of what looked like an adventure story about space travel. In idle curiosity, she tugged the scrap of paper out; it was yellowed, curling at the edges, and had a stain along the front that could only have been caused by tea.
Clearly legible, scrawled along the top, was her name - her full name in Gallifreyan.
She must have made a sound of surprise, because in an instant David was beside her, tense with the long anxieties of war. "I'm sorry," she said, and, with a guilty feeling of possessiveness, slipped the paper up her sleeve before he could see it. "I thought I saw a rat."
He smiled, curious but unwilling to press the issue. "Not anymore, I should hope!" he said, and his hand rested briefly on her shoulder before he turned back to his work.
When he'd moved away, Susan carefully unfolded the page, taking in the familiar characters written in an unfamiliar hand before pushing past the fog of indistinct memories to read the message.
My dear Susan, it said, and she felt her breath catch in her throat even as she knew the writing was wrong, the subtle connotations in the style too informal-
I know I may have mentioned that we had a spot of trouble with the Zygons - well, you know what they say about Zygons, anyway - but it seems to have cleared up somewhat since then. I've only just been home, in fact, or whatever passed for home, and I suppose that's why I've finally taken up pen and paper again to write you. I'm rather afraid you had the right idea, you know, when you told me I couldn't travel alone - for a universe with so many people about, a lot of us seem to indulge in a spot of loneliness. I wonder if you're ever lonely, my Susan?
And do you know, I've just had the strangest thought - here I've been scattering these messages for centuries, picking up where I've left off, and for all I know you've read them in entirely the wrong order. You always did like to spoil the ending of a good book, though, didn't you? Terrible habit.
Unfortunately, as I am currently writing this message from the comfort of a Martrakshian jail cell - did I mention that I committed the ultimate sacrilege and am due to be beheaded at dawn? - I'm not entirely sure how many more messages there will be. Oh, one can hope, of course, and one often does, but one never does know. Does one?
She blinked at the scrap of paper, turned it around, but the other side was blank. Slowly, a faint smile stole across her face.
*~*~*
And so it began; on a picnic with David, she came across a story carved into a rock face, written with such energy and cheerfulness and whimsy that she laughed before she'd even recognised the language. Next to the Gallifreyan scrawl were two signatures in human hand - 'Jamie' in blocky, clumsy letters, and 'Zoe' with precise, elegant flair.
"What does it say?" said David, looping his arms around her from behind, leaning his chin on her shoulder as he squinted at the symbols.
Susan turned in his arms. "I can teach you," she said, and when he stumbled with his human tongue over the pronunciation, their laughter told its own stories.
*~*~*
She found herself searching actively, recruiting some of the children in the city to look for the strange letters while they played, and her efforts paid off in the form of sidewalk graffiti, of old posters - she eventually did find out all about the Zygons, and the Daleks again, and the Poortvornians of Sillivak III, and so many adventures that she could nearly hear the ancient engines grinding.
*~*~*
"I worry, sometimes," said David, years later, standing with her in the street, watching old-fashioned fireworks explode overhead. He glanced down at her, stroked her cheek with his thumb, and she couldn't help seeing the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the grey in his hair. "I worry that you'll keep chasing him and leave me behind."
She caught his hand in hers, planted a kiss in the palm and watched him until he broke into a self-conscious grin. "I don't need to chase him anymore," she said, and his smile broadened with understanding. "He's found me."
And the city in itself seemed to be holding its breath, watching the fireworks, equal parts reflective and celebratory, and Susan smiled, giddy with the knowledge that the words on the walls were for her.
Author:
eponymous_roseWord Count: 865
Rating: G
Characters: Susan, David
Spoilers: References to Dalek Invasion of Earth, Terror of the Zygons, and The Deadly Assassin, among others.
Summary: Susan finds a letter in a library, a story on the cliffs. Life goes on.
The first message came when they started reclaiming the city for the second time; the Daleks may have gone, but dust and time hung heavy in their wake.
Susan was clearing up a pile of old books and papers from the corner of what was once a public library (she'd been amused to find that, despite all electronic advances, the pocket paperbacks she'd read so many years before were still in abundance), when she caught sight of the bit of the paper wedged between two volumes of what looked like an adventure story about space travel. In idle curiosity, she tugged the scrap of paper out; it was yellowed, curling at the edges, and had a stain along the front that could only have been caused by tea.
Clearly legible, scrawled along the top, was her name - her full name in Gallifreyan.
She must have made a sound of surprise, because in an instant David was beside her, tense with the long anxieties of war. "I'm sorry," she said, and, with a guilty feeling of possessiveness, slipped the paper up her sleeve before he could see it. "I thought I saw a rat."
He smiled, curious but unwilling to press the issue. "Not anymore, I should hope!" he said, and his hand rested briefly on her shoulder before he turned back to his work.
When he'd moved away, Susan carefully unfolded the page, taking in the familiar characters written in an unfamiliar hand before pushing past the fog of indistinct memories to read the message.
My dear Susan, it said, and she felt her breath catch in her throat even as she knew the writing was wrong, the subtle connotations in the style too informal-
I know I may have mentioned that we had a spot of trouble with the Zygons - well, you know what they say about Zygons, anyway - but it seems to have cleared up somewhat since then. I've only just been home, in fact, or whatever passed for home, and I suppose that's why I've finally taken up pen and paper again to write you. I'm rather afraid you had the right idea, you know, when you told me I couldn't travel alone - for a universe with so many people about, a lot of us seem to indulge in a spot of loneliness. I wonder if you're ever lonely, my Susan?
And do you know, I've just had the strangest thought - here I've been scattering these messages for centuries, picking up where I've left off, and for all I know you've read them in entirely the wrong order. You always did like to spoil the ending of a good book, though, didn't you? Terrible habit.
Unfortunately, as I am currently writing this message from the comfort of a Martrakshian jail cell - did I mention that I committed the ultimate sacrilege and am due to be beheaded at dawn? - I'm not entirely sure how many more messages there will be. Oh, one can hope, of course, and one often does, but one never does know. Does one?
She blinked at the scrap of paper, turned it around, but the other side was blank. Slowly, a faint smile stole across her face.
*~*~*
And so it began; on a picnic with David, she came across a story carved into a rock face, written with such energy and cheerfulness and whimsy that she laughed before she'd even recognised the language. Next to the Gallifreyan scrawl were two signatures in human hand - 'Jamie' in blocky, clumsy letters, and 'Zoe' with precise, elegant flair.
"What does it say?" said David, looping his arms around her from behind, leaning his chin on her shoulder as he squinted at the symbols.
Susan turned in his arms. "I can teach you," she said, and when he stumbled with his human tongue over the pronunciation, their laughter told its own stories.
*~*~*
She found herself searching actively, recruiting some of the children in the city to look for the strange letters while they played, and her efforts paid off in the form of sidewalk graffiti, of old posters - she eventually did find out all about the Zygons, and the Daleks again, and the Poortvornians of Sillivak III, and so many adventures that she could nearly hear the ancient engines grinding.
*~*~*
"I worry, sometimes," said David, years later, standing with her in the street, watching old-fashioned fireworks explode overhead. He glanced down at her, stroked her cheek with his thumb, and she couldn't help seeing the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the grey in his hair. "I worry that you'll keep chasing him and leave me behind."
She caught his hand in hers, planted a kiss in the palm and watched him until he broke into a self-conscious grin. "I don't need to chase him anymore," she said, and his smile broadened with understanding. "He's found me."
And the city in itself seemed to be holding its breath, watching the fireworks, equal parts reflective and celebratory, and Susan smiled, giddy with the knowledge that the words on the walls were for her.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-04-17 06:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-17 06:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-17 06:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-17 08:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-12 12:44 am (UTC)The first letter was lovely and this line I wonder if you're ever lonely, my Susan? seemed so very perfect, just precisely what someone would write in a letter. (And it made me choke up a bit, to be honest!)
I enjoyed reading this very much!
no subject
Date: 2009-08-12 08:52 pm (UTC)Next to the Gallifreyan scrawl were two signatures in human hand - 'Jamie' in blocky, clumsy letters, and 'Zoe' with precise, elegant flair.
I liked the whole fic, obviously, but this detail most of all. I don't know why, but that was the touch that really made the whole thing pull together, this oblique image of Two, Zamie, and Joe all sitting down to write to Susan together. Added to memories, oh, yes.