calmbefore | (no subject)

To say that things have been more than a little tumultuous of late would, at this point, be something of an understatement. But the worst has blown over, at least. The Daleks have been defeated (if only temporarily), he's managed to find some small shred of hope... and Molly has gone back to her war, just as he'd rather suspected she might.

He, however, has absolutely no inclination to go back to whatever war the Time Lords have brewing with the Daleks. He's had quite enough of that of late, and even if he were inclined to pay much attention to what the CIA or the Lord President or whoever else gets sent round to fetch him, he's pretty sure that he's earned a break at this point. Unfortunately, this leaves him rather at loose ends - with Molly gone, it's just him in the TARDIS and there's nowhere that it feels like he really has to go, for all that he doesn't want to stay either.

In the end, he settles for simply asking the old girl to take him somewhere away from any wars and leaves the rest to her.

She doesn't take him far either, not that he's aware of it as the TARDIS wheezes into existence again barely a decade back from when he'd been previously and not much further than across an ocean besides. All he knows for certain, as he steps out into of the TARDIS, is that the air isn't stale with the smells of death and war, and that - for now, at least - there doesn't seem to be mass mayhem and panic in the streets. True, he might not have any idea where he is just at the moment (although the buildings do suggest somewhere on Earth) but he'll take what he can get just at the moment.

As for the matter of not knowing where he is, that he solves in the same manner as always. Which is to say, he simply strikes out in whichever direction seems the most reasonable and trusts that sooner or later he'll come across something. He's not wrong either, given that it's not long at all before he manages to overhear a few scattered snippets of conversation that include mention of the Titanic, and more tellingly, not in the hushed tone that usually accompany discussions of recent disaster.

"That explains the where and the when," he comments, more to himself than to anyone else. "Although not exactly the why."

It does, however, give him a general idea of where he should be heading to, and in lieu of any other particularly interesting leads, he sets about heading in what he hopes is the general direction of the shipyard. He might not have any real desire to travel on her himself - a doomed trip is hardly his idea of a good time, just at the moment - but he certainly isn't about to pass up a chance to see her as she was before that fatal collision. And who knows, maybe he will run into something of interest on the way there.</cut<

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The Ever-and-Ever Prolixity isn't a TARDIS and isn't predictable in the least, nor does her little ship have the size inside that the TARDIS had, but Charley supposes they work as well as she can expect. On the bright side, landing half a year before she really intended gave herself and Robert opportunities to integrate themselves. Sticking out like a sore thumb might have worked well enough for her and the Doctor in times gone by, but the Doctor isn't here now to distract people from her own anachronistic dress, and Robert's is even worse. At least her future time to the people around her will happen in most of these people's lifetimes. Mr. Buchan's time probably won't happen even in their great great grandchildren's lifetimes.

And so, their time spent in Southampton before the disembarkation had been a blessing in disguise. Charley used the little appropriate coin she had to get them proper clothing and Robert picked up a short-term job on the docks, though not without a bit of whining about manual labor. They could sleep in the ship if necessary, but it wasn't very comfortable and people would start to notice if they slipped off out of town every night, so they used Robert's meager earnings to find fairly cramped lodgings. An unmarried man and woman sharing a room would also attract some attention, but at least that had been just a mundane sort of curiosity. It wouldn't be the first time Charley had been the target of disapproving glares.

The morning of 10 April, 1912 is brisk and the great ship Titanic is looming large over the docks today. Crowds mill about amid the mist and smoke, preparing to board. Charley weaves her way through the people, trying to catch someone's attention in the press of bodies. For days while Robert was working elsewhere (and thankfully being exceedingly patient about indulging this plan of hers), she's been wandering around the parts of the city around the docks, trying to convince someone that sailing on the ship is a bad idea. She can't save everyone that will die in a few days time, she knows that. The Web of Time would unravel faster and with more devastating effects than her one little stolen life caused. Still, she could stop someone from boarding the ship. Surely one or two people not in the books won't do any damage.

The thing she hadn't counted on was how difficult it would be. The rich mocked a silly girl's "panic" over such a large ship, and the poor were just too desperate for a new life to listen.

Still, Charley keeps trying, and today is her last chance. "Are you absolutely sure you want to sail in such an untested ship?" she asks a confused-looking young mother, who blinks at Charley, and then to the ship, then back at Charley. Without a word, the young woman tugs the two little boys away and hurries off without a backward glance.

"No, wait! Please, miss, the Titanic isn't safe!"

In retrospect, the Doctor figures he might have done better by asking the TARDIS by avoiding tragedies in the making as well. But what's done is done and sometimes - just sometimes - miracles do happen. Not that it's really sunk in that he recognizes Charley's voice yet, given that he's long since figured that their paths have gone their separate ways, but as luck would have it, in their haste to move along the young mother and her boys cross directly into his path.

"She's not entirely wrong," he comments, and though he's not raising his voice, it still carries easily enough to where Charley's standing. "The Titanic might be a miracle of engineering, but no ship can be entirely safe."

Of course, he's not expecting to have any more luck convincing anyone himself, but he supposes the least he can do is try, even if there's a good deal less hope in the attempt now than there might once have been - a fact that may well lend some credence to his words. As might his clothes for that matter, for once not so badly anachronistic as his green velvet might have been even if they might not read nearly as much like something a soldier would wear here as it had back when he'd picked it up.

Not, of course, that he seems to be having any more luck than Charley had, given that the young woman seems to be asking him if he's actually had any experience at sea (a fair question given that even now he looks surprisingly young).

"More than you might think. And accidents do happen."

But even this seems to be largely met with skepticism, and he supposes he can't blame the woman. One person trying to suggest that the unsinkable might actually be less than safe is odd enough; to find two naysayers in short order is very nearly beyond all belief, if it isn't outright the sign of a conspiracy.