John Smith (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dreamtofbeing) wrote2009-04-10 02:41 pm
dreamtofbeing) wrote2009-04-10 02:41 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Call Me Fred
This is set in a 'verse where the Doctor is rooming with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mind_the_tardis' OC Lu in the city of Taxon. This 'verse may be explored further once ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
taxonomites goes live. The city of Taxon is appearing courtesy of the Taxon mods, and Lu I borrowed with permission from mind_the_tardis.
2,156 words about the Doctor meeting a new companion.
The best word to describe the city of Taxon is cluttered.
This the Doctor decides as he crosses a narrow street, leaving a late 21st century office building block behind and entering an area that looks a lot like a European village during the first industrial revolution. Cobblestone under his feet and carcass facades left and right, the dark layer of dirt on the walls making the street appear even narrower, the houses seemingly leaning in left and right and leaving only a narrow strip of blue sky visible above.
Manchester, he thinks. Manchester, or maybe Gliwice. Did they have carcass in Manchester?
He can't remember, and by now, he knows better than to try to force the memory. Instead, he just slips his hands into the pockets of his jeans and looks around some more. There's another word he'd use to describe Taxon, and that's empty. Especially parts like this one, where the environment is neither appealing nor atmospheric.
The Doctor doesn't mind. He's taken to going on long walks through the city, and knows most parts pretty well by now. In some, he's never met a single soul, and after his second or third visit, those started to feel like his. No-one knows these places, except him. He was the first to go there and explore them. It feels good, being able to claim first explorer rights, even if it's only on a conglomeration of carcass houses that looks like it was taken from a seedier part of a Silesian town.
Besides, sometimes the empty parts of the city hold surprises--as uninhabited places do. Not usually, and the Doctor isn't expecting any surprises today, but as they say, things will always happen when you expect them the least.
When the Doctor turns a corner, veering off the bigger main street to head back home, he finds a kitten sitting in the middle of the dusty dirt road.
He stops in his tracks and stands perfectly still. The small cat has seen him; it's cowering in the middle of the street, with its body pressed to the ground and its ears turned backwards, watching him. He doesn't move, just clicks his tongue a couple of times.
"Hey, you."
It's a very young cat. The Doctor's not an expert on cats, but he'd be surprised if this one turned out to be any older than two months. Its fur is coloured in an orange-black-white calico pattern, and as it relaxes its tense posture, the Doctor can see that its feet are coloured in a checkerboard pattern; two black, two white.
The cat continues to stare at him for another couple of moments, its tail twitching, before it ducks away to one side and disappears into the narrow gap between two houses. The Doctor looks after it, somewhat surprised. He didn't know there were any animals in the city at all, let alone any cats. As he passes the dark gap between the houses the cat vanished into, he stops to peer into the shadows, but he doesn't spot it again that day.
~~~
He sees her next a day later, in a different part of town that looks a lot like a 25th century naval town that's missing the sea. When he got home the day before, he read up on calico cats on a whim, and learned that this pattern in cats is gender-specific. His kitten--which is how he has begun to think of her; as his kitten--is in all likelihood a girl kitten.
He usually takes a different route every day, but he makes an exception today and passes through the carcass village in the hope of finding her again. When she's not there, he doesn't hold out much hope to meet her anywhere else. All the more it surprises him when, halfway on his way back home, a small skittish meowing stops him in his tracks and makes him look up to see his kitten sitting on a white-painted wooden window sill, staring down at him with wide, coppery eyes.
She is a girl kitten. He can't know for sure, and yet he does. Male cats look different.
"Hello again." He's wearing a different pair of trousers today that don't have pockets, so he slips his hands into the pockets of his jacket, the fingers of his right hand brushing against the smooth metal of his fob watch. "How are you today?"
She answers, another small, high-pitched sound, and then, with a flick of her ears, disappears through the window into the house. He waits a few minutes to see if she'll show up again, but when she doesn't, he resumes his walk and heads home.
~~~
"I keep seeing this cat."
Lu and the Doctor are sitting outside on a park bench somewhere in an area that looks like an average city park, except that instead of maple and beech trees, this park has acacias and baobabs all over, interspersed with a couple of palm trees. Lu is sitting on the backrest of the bench, his feet on the seat, and is playing fetch with Nos. They've been at it for a while. Nos is still running after the stick with the same enthusiasm as the first time.
"That's worrying," says Lu and throws the stick again.
"What?"
"Never mind. What cat?"
"I don't know. I've met her twice now." The Doctor pauses, then adds, "she's a very young cat still."
"Huh." Lu's eyes are on Nos, who has caught the stick out of mid-air and is running back towards them. "Didn't know they had cats in this town."
"No." The Doctor shakes his head. "Neither did I."
~~~
If the Doctor were superstitious, he would have figured that talking about the cat jinxed his chances to see her again. As it is, when he doesn't spot her on his walks the next couple of days, he simply concludes that she must have moved to a different part of town. It's quite a big city, after all.
Which is how she manages to surprise him a third time, not even a week later, sitting on the coach box of an abandoned carriage in a French-looking, late 19th century village only a couple of blocks from his and Lu's place. She doesn't say anything this time, and the Doctor would almost have missed her. He spots her when he's on level with the coach. With no more than four feet's distance, this is the closest he's been to her yet.
"There you are." He tilts his head a little, and smiles as the cat does the same, her ears cocked curiously. "What's your name, kitty?"
The cat doesn't move, watching him with her big green eyes that must have been blue not too long ago. "Rose," he says. "Your name is Rose, is it?"
Now the kitten does speak, a sharp, almost angry sound, before she jumps onto the roof of the coach and slips through a gap out of sight. The Doctor stays where he is for a moment, still smiling.
As he turns to leave, he doesn't even realize that internally, he's decided on the cat's name as Fred.
~~~
From that day, Fred is waiting for the Doctor on the abandoned coach every time he passes it. His walks don't have a fixed schedule, and the times he passes though that part of the city vary from early afternoon to after sun-down, but Fred is there, every time, waiting for him. He starts bringing food with him; one of Nos' dog treats, broken up into tiny pieces to make it easier for the small cat to chew, or, as he gets to know his kitten's tastes, bits of cheese.
Fred loves cheese. She doesn't usually touch the dog treats or the small pieces of roast beef he brings with him--although he assumes she eats them after he's left, since they're always gone the next day--but the first time he brings some leftover cheese, she's interested enough to not only eat it immediately, but she also allows herself to come into touching distance.
The Doctor is very tempted to reach out and pet her. Instead, he rests his hand on the rough wood of the coach, not moving or pulling back. Fred finishes her cheese in a couple of quick bites--she's a tiny cat, but that doesn't seem to stop her from having extra-speedy eating habits--and then, very carefully, approaches his hand.
She doesn't do more than sniff it, and quickly flicks a rough, warm tongue over his knuckles before she pulls back and jumps off the coach, vanishing in the shadows the way only cats know how to do it.
The Doctor heads home, his hands in his pockets, his fingers wrapped around the cool metal of his fob watch.
~~~
Their routine may have never changed, if not for the Doctor catching a cold only a few days after bringing Fred the cheese. It's the first time this is happening to him, and he can't say that it's an enjoyable experience. Lu says it's his own fault; if he insists on not sleeping and eating properly, he shouldn't be surprised if he gets sick. The Doctor thinks Lu isn't being very fair; he wasn't insisting on anything. He just forgets about these things.
He follows Lu's most recent advice and skips his daily walk. It probably is the smart thing to do, even though by the time the evening rolls around, he's starting to doubt that. Being holed up inside all day is making him very restless. He's almost surprised to find himself wondering about Fred. What if she was starting to rely on him as a reliable dinner source? She'd be going without food tonight. The Doctor knows from experience that going without food is very unpleasant.
He tries to distract himself. He tries reading, but it only makes him more restless. He turns on the television, and that does distract him for a while, until he ends up tuning in to a cat food commercial.
The Doctor's still not superstitious, but divine omen or not, he decides to take the hint. He can't find any jumpers in his wardrobe--there are t-shirts, and jeans, and trousers, and button-down shirts and a variety of ties, but nothing casual with long sleeves, and he figures he should probably do something about that--so he ends up borrowing one of Lu's many black hoodies. This one has a kangaroo pouch pocket and skulls on the back. It'll do.
The weather in Taxon never changes; it's always the same, sunny day with a cloudless blue sky. It feels colder today than usual, though, despite the hoodie, and as the Doctor heads down the street, the thought of walking all the way to the French village and the abandoned coach is starting to feel more and more like a bad idea. He's actually starting to contemplate turning around and going back home when he hears a small meow.
It's Fred. The Doctor is still a good way from their usual meeting point, but the cat who is coming towards him, running in a fast trot in the middle of the street, calico coat with two black and two white feet, is definitely his kitten. She looks unimpressed. Come to think of it, she sounds unimpressed.
He squats down and waits until she stops about four feet away from him. She seems wary, but when she meows at him again, it's definitely a demand. The Doctor smiles.
"I'm sorry I'm late." He pulls a small zippo bag from his pocket and pours its contents, a handful of grated cheddar, onto his palm. Before he can put it down on the ground, though, a cold and damp cat nose brushes against his fingers. Fred has crossed the distance and is carefully sniffing at the food in his palm.
The Doctor holds very still while Fred eats her dinner. The cheese strips are gone in a matter of moments, and the corners of the Doctor's mouth twitch as the small cat licks his palm with a rough, ticklish tongue.
She doesn't seem wary at all anymore.
"Hey, you," he says. "Hey, Fred. Do you want to come with me?"
Fred puts her front paws--one black, one white--on his knee and tilts her head before she jumps into his lap. The Doctor tries to hold very still as the small cat curiously sniffs at his clothes and hands, her claws snagging at his jeans as she tries to keep her balance.
"All right," the Doctor says, petting the cat's soft, short fur between her ears. "I'll take you with me."
When he comes home that day, there's a small cat nestled in the kangaroo pouch of his borrowed jumper. The Doctor thinks it may be a good idea to get a few jumpers like that for himself.
mind_the_tardis' OC Lu in the city of Taxon. This 'verse may be explored further once taxonomites goes live. The city of Taxon is appearing courtesy of the Taxon mods, and Lu I borrowed with permission from mind_the_tardis.2,156 words about the Doctor meeting a new companion.
The best word to describe the city of Taxon is cluttered.
This the Doctor decides as he crosses a narrow street, leaving a late 21st century office building block behind and entering an area that looks a lot like a European village during the first industrial revolution. Cobblestone under his feet and carcass facades left and right, the dark layer of dirt on the walls making the street appear even narrower, the houses seemingly leaning in left and right and leaving only a narrow strip of blue sky visible above.
Manchester, he thinks. Manchester, or maybe Gliwice. Did they have carcass in Manchester?
He can't remember, and by now, he knows better than to try to force the memory. Instead, he just slips his hands into the pockets of his jeans and looks around some more. There's another word he'd use to describe Taxon, and that's empty. Especially parts like this one, where the environment is neither appealing nor atmospheric.
The Doctor doesn't mind. He's taken to going on long walks through the city, and knows most parts pretty well by now. In some, he's never met a single soul, and after his second or third visit, those started to feel like his. No-one knows these places, except him. He was the first to go there and explore them. It feels good, being able to claim first explorer rights, even if it's only on a conglomeration of carcass houses that looks like it was taken from a seedier part of a Silesian town.
Besides, sometimes the empty parts of the city hold surprises--as uninhabited places do. Not usually, and the Doctor isn't expecting any surprises today, but as they say, things will always happen when you expect them the least.
When the Doctor turns a corner, veering off the bigger main street to head back home, he finds a kitten sitting in the middle of the dusty dirt road.
He stops in his tracks and stands perfectly still. The small cat has seen him; it's cowering in the middle of the street, with its body pressed to the ground and its ears turned backwards, watching him. He doesn't move, just clicks his tongue a couple of times.
"Hey, you."
It's a very young cat. The Doctor's not an expert on cats, but he'd be surprised if this one turned out to be any older than two months. Its fur is coloured in an orange-black-white calico pattern, and as it relaxes its tense posture, the Doctor can see that its feet are coloured in a checkerboard pattern; two black, two white.
The cat continues to stare at him for another couple of moments, its tail twitching, before it ducks away to one side and disappears into the narrow gap between two houses. The Doctor looks after it, somewhat surprised. He didn't know there were any animals in the city at all, let alone any cats. As he passes the dark gap between the houses the cat vanished into, he stops to peer into the shadows, but he doesn't spot it again that day.
He sees her next a day later, in a different part of town that looks a lot like a 25th century naval town that's missing the sea. When he got home the day before, he read up on calico cats on a whim, and learned that this pattern in cats is gender-specific. His kitten--which is how he has begun to think of her; as his kitten--is in all likelihood a girl kitten.
He usually takes a different route every day, but he makes an exception today and passes through the carcass village in the hope of finding her again. When she's not there, he doesn't hold out much hope to meet her anywhere else. All the more it surprises him when, halfway on his way back home, a small skittish meowing stops him in his tracks and makes him look up to see his kitten sitting on a white-painted wooden window sill, staring down at him with wide, coppery eyes.
She is a girl kitten. He can't know for sure, and yet he does. Male cats look different.
"Hello again." He's wearing a different pair of trousers today that don't have pockets, so he slips his hands into the pockets of his jacket, the fingers of his right hand brushing against the smooth metal of his fob watch. "How are you today?"
She answers, another small, high-pitched sound, and then, with a flick of her ears, disappears through the window into the house. He waits a few minutes to see if she'll show up again, but when she doesn't, he resumes his walk and heads home.
"I keep seeing this cat."
Lu and the Doctor are sitting outside on a park bench somewhere in an area that looks like an average city park, except that instead of maple and beech trees, this park has acacias and baobabs all over, interspersed with a couple of palm trees. Lu is sitting on the backrest of the bench, his feet on the seat, and is playing fetch with Nos. They've been at it for a while. Nos is still running after the stick with the same enthusiasm as the first time.
"That's worrying," says Lu and throws the stick again.
"What?"
"Never mind. What cat?"
"I don't know. I've met her twice now." The Doctor pauses, then adds, "she's a very young cat still."
"Huh." Lu's eyes are on Nos, who has caught the stick out of mid-air and is running back towards them. "Didn't know they had cats in this town."
"No." The Doctor shakes his head. "Neither did I."
If the Doctor were superstitious, he would have figured that talking about the cat jinxed his chances to see her again. As it is, when he doesn't spot her on his walks the next couple of days, he simply concludes that she must have moved to a different part of town. It's quite a big city, after all.
Which is how she manages to surprise him a third time, not even a week later, sitting on the coach box of an abandoned carriage in a French-looking, late 19th century village only a couple of blocks from his and Lu's place. She doesn't say anything this time, and the Doctor would almost have missed her. He spots her when he's on level with the coach. With no more than four feet's distance, this is the closest he's been to her yet.
"There you are." He tilts his head a little, and smiles as the cat does the same, her ears cocked curiously. "What's your name, kitty?"
The cat doesn't move, watching him with her big green eyes that must have been blue not too long ago. "Rose," he says. "Your name is Rose, is it?"
Now the kitten does speak, a sharp, almost angry sound, before she jumps onto the roof of the coach and slips through a gap out of sight. The Doctor stays where he is for a moment, still smiling.
As he turns to leave, he doesn't even realize that internally, he's decided on the cat's name as Fred.
From that day, Fred is waiting for the Doctor on the abandoned coach every time he passes it. His walks don't have a fixed schedule, and the times he passes though that part of the city vary from early afternoon to after sun-down, but Fred is there, every time, waiting for him. He starts bringing food with him; one of Nos' dog treats, broken up into tiny pieces to make it easier for the small cat to chew, or, as he gets to know his kitten's tastes, bits of cheese.
Fred loves cheese. She doesn't usually touch the dog treats or the small pieces of roast beef he brings with him--although he assumes she eats them after he's left, since they're always gone the next day--but the first time he brings some leftover cheese, she's interested enough to not only eat it immediately, but she also allows herself to come into touching distance.
The Doctor is very tempted to reach out and pet her. Instead, he rests his hand on the rough wood of the coach, not moving or pulling back. Fred finishes her cheese in a couple of quick bites--she's a tiny cat, but that doesn't seem to stop her from having extra-speedy eating habits--and then, very carefully, approaches his hand.
She doesn't do more than sniff it, and quickly flicks a rough, warm tongue over his knuckles before she pulls back and jumps off the coach, vanishing in the shadows the way only cats know how to do it.
The Doctor heads home, his hands in his pockets, his fingers wrapped around the cool metal of his fob watch.
Their routine may have never changed, if not for the Doctor catching a cold only a few days after bringing Fred the cheese. It's the first time this is happening to him, and he can't say that it's an enjoyable experience. Lu says it's his own fault; if he insists on not sleeping and eating properly, he shouldn't be surprised if he gets sick. The Doctor thinks Lu isn't being very fair; he wasn't insisting on anything. He just forgets about these things.
He follows Lu's most recent advice and skips his daily walk. It probably is the smart thing to do, even though by the time the evening rolls around, he's starting to doubt that. Being holed up inside all day is making him very restless. He's almost surprised to find himself wondering about Fred. What if she was starting to rely on him as a reliable dinner source? She'd be going without food tonight. The Doctor knows from experience that going without food is very unpleasant.
He tries to distract himself. He tries reading, but it only makes him more restless. He turns on the television, and that does distract him for a while, until he ends up tuning in to a cat food commercial.
The Doctor's still not superstitious, but divine omen or not, he decides to take the hint. He can't find any jumpers in his wardrobe--there are t-shirts, and jeans, and trousers, and button-down shirts and a variety of ties, but nothing casual with long sleeves, and he figures he should probably do something about that--so he ends up borrowing one of Lu's many black hoodies. This one has a kangaroo pouch pocket and skulls on the back. It'll do.
The weather in Taxon never changes; it's always the same, sunny day with a cloudless blue sky. It feels colder today than usual, though, despite the hoodie, and as the Doctor heads down the street, the thought of walking all the way to the French village and the abandoned coach is starting to feel more and more like a bad idea. He's actually starting to contemplate turning around and going back home when he hears a small meow.
It's Fred. The Doctor is still a good way from their usual meeting point, but the cat who is coming towards him, running in a fast trot in the middle of the street, calico coat with two black and two white feet, is definitely his kitten. She looks unimpressed. Come to think of it, she sounds unimpressed.
He squats down and waits until she stops about four feet away from him. She seems wary, but when she meows at him again, it's definitely a demand. The Doctor smiles.
"I'm sorry I'm late." He pulls a small zippo bag from his pocket and pours its contents, a handful of grated cheddar, onto his palm. Before he can put it down on the ground, though, a cold and damp cat nose brushes against his fingers. Fred has crossed the distance and is carefully sniffing at the food in his palm.
The Doctor holds very still while Fred eats her dinner. The cheese strips are gone in a matter of moments, and the corners of the Doctor's mouth twitch as the small cat licks his palm with a rough, ticklish tongue.
She doesn't seem wary at all anymore.
"Hey, you," he says. "Hey, Fred. Do you want to come with me?"
Fred puts her front paws--one black, one white--on his knee and tilts her head before she jumps into his lap. The Doctor tries to hold very still as the small cat curiously sniffs at his clothes and hands, her claws snagging at his jeans as she tries to keep her balance.
"All right," the Doctor says, petting the cat's soft, short fur between her ears. "I'll take you with me."
When he comes home that day, there's a small cat nestled in the kangaroo pouch of his borrowed jumper. The Doctor thinks it may be a good idea to get a few jumpers like that for himself.