#hang on gotta redo tags so this is accessible on ios (hopefully)

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

this may be predictable but...eighth doctor???? 👀👀 i'd love some later 8th dr content (if you know/like any) but ANYTHING is good! 💙

ok so I'm actually not familiar with any of Eight's later audios tbh. I have written a lot of stuff with him though, so I actually went back and dug this up from way back in my notes app. it was supposed to be part of something longer, but I never finished it and after some editing (changing tenses lol bc I write in present tense nowadays) and additions it works well as a standalone!

I'm assuming you've heard Gallifrey, bc this is set after A Blind Eye for that timeline, with the assumption that Romana knew about Cissy's letter and either she or Leela (or both) decided they should get it to Charley. as for the TARDIS team, I'm gonna place it in the gap between Other Lives and Time Works (I believe there's a gap there, at least...).

anyway, I hope you enjoy today's dose of angst :)

*****************************

There's a knock. It sounds hollow, plasticky, and as if it's coming from outside the TARDIS doors. That should be impossible, though — they're in the Time Vortex, swirling haphazard through space and time. Charley looks up from the book she's been reading and raises an eyebrow at the Doctor. He shruggs in silent reply and, after making sure the atmospheric containment field is on, opens the doors.

His eyes widen as a little blue box, six inches cubed, floats inside. He grabs it out of the air, turning it over in examination. He presses the side to open it as both Charley and C'rizz walk over to see what it is.

"Gallifreyan hypercube," he explains, before either of them has time to ask. When the side opens, they can see a piece of paper inside, neatly folded. The Doctor pulls it out and raises his eyebrows when he sees Charley's name written tidily on the outside. She looks at him bemusedly as he hands it over, and finds that, shockingly, she recognizes the script.

Charley unfolds the note, at a loss for why a letter from her sister Cecelia would find its way to her via a Gallifreyan courier,, and the Doctor stands beside her, reading over her shoulder. As she begins to read the letter, a sense of tension and something bordering on fear wells up in her, from somewhere deep inside and unfortunately familiar.

My dearest Charlotte, wandering adventuress,

This is to say goodbye. I send you my best love, wherever you may be. So much has changed, since last you were here with us. The fact is, these days I'm as popular as a dose of strychnine. And when you return from your travels, the twitterers and chatterers will be queuing up, to tell you what a rotten lot I was.

Darling sister, they'd be right. I have pleased myself for myself. I have made bad friends, and bad choices, and shut my eyes and ears to thing that would make a decent person sick. It is grisly, here in Munich. The storm clouds they talk of, over Europe, they're real. Tonight, darker and more real than you could possibly envisage.

If I go to England, I'll be locked up as a menace to morale. If I stay, the best I can be is a jolly turn. A "dancing bear," for my masters' amusement.

Never be notorious: it's the deadliest thing.

But you mustn't be sad. Because I've done everything I wanted, though none of it was worth much. The thing is, I'm a shallow person. What is there left for me, but

The letter cuts off there, and Charley swallows hard. This is to say goodbye.

"I don't..." Charley sucks in a breath, here eyebrows furrowing. "I don't understand, what did she..." she looks up at the Doctor, watching her with a gaze full of sympathy and concern.

"Charley," he says her name gently and reaches to take her hand, but she shakes her head and takes a step back. The familiarity of his gesture is not what she's looking for right now, she doesn't want that kind of reassurance.

"What does that," she lifts the letter she's still holding, "Mean?" She asks, struggling to keep her voice steady. She already knows the answer.

"Can I..." C'rizz hesitates. "Charley, do you mind if I read it?" He asks gently.

She hands him the paper wordlessly, knowing C'rizz of all people will understand the implications of it — what she knows, but doesn't want to accept — better than almost anyone. She stands, shaking, staring down at her feet and willing herself not to cry, as he scans it, his colors shifting from his neutral shade to darker, concerned ones, then to the softer, muted mauve she knows he always uses when trying to comfort her.

He hands back the letter, still silent, like she'd trusted he would be, and Charley grimaces and crumples it gently in one hand. She turns to look at the Doctor, see if he has anything to say — tell her she's wrong, that the letter doesn't mean what it means — and for once, when she looks for strength in him, he doesn't look away. The look in his eyes tells her that what she wishes, hopes, prays isn't true... is.

This time when he reaches for her hand, she lets him take it.