lost_spook: (DW - Eight)
[personal profile] lost_spook
This feels like it ought to be one of the prompt ficlets, but actually it was just a thing I wrote. (I do that still?) I listened to The Silver Turk a while back, thanks to [livejournal.com profile] paranoidangel42 & at the end Eight wanted a waltz. Well, if Eight wants a waltz, he should have one, that's my thinking... (And I'd forgotten how much I liked Eight and Mary from The Company of Friends.)

Title: Viennese Waltz
Author: [livejournal.com profile] lost_spook
Rating: All ages
Word Count: 643
Characters/Pairings: Eighth Doctor, Mary Shelley
Notes/Warnings: Slight (non-spoilery) tag for the end of the BFA The Silver Turk. (Mary Shelley is Eight’s companion in a three-story run of audios. It’s not just random historical fic.)

Summary: Before they leave Vienna, Mary decides to let the Doctor have his waltz, after all.


“Doctor, this is not where we left the TARDIS.”

“No, it isn’t. Well, you can’t say I didn’t try to tell you we should have taken the left-hand turning earlier.”

Mary opened her mouth to object to this outrageous falsehood, before catching the humorous light in his eye. She remained silent on the topic, with dignity. “Doctor. I fear we have returned to the Exposition.”

Somewhere, across the night, music was coming from one of the covered stands. Most likely, a group were practising for tomorrow, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Mary shivered, and then supposed, more pragmatically, that happily, for most of Vienna’s citizens, nothing had.

“Ah,” said the Doctor, with a smile for her in the lamplight. “A waltz, after all!”

Mary stopped walking and turned to face him, with deliberation. “Yes. A waltz, after all,” she agreed, and held out her hand.

“Why, thank you.” He took it, giving a proper bow, as if they had not been standing outside on mud and straw, alone, and neither of them dressed for a formal occasion.

She let him lead her into their solitary dance. “Although,” she added, “I should not be surprised if someone arrested us for such peculiar behaviour.”

“Peculiar? When we’ve saved the city from marauding marionettes?” he returned. “Arresting us now would be ungrateful. Although I’ve often found that people are –”

“I can imagine.”

“And, ssh, Mary, the dance, that’s the thing!”

Mary followed his movements, listening to the muted strains of the string instruments, and her eyes strayed upwards, to the stars. He had, after all, promised her the stars. She let that be her only thought for the moment, let all else be the music and the dance. She was waltzing in a future she had seen before her time, with a man who was unlike any other she had known. And despite that, and the danger that travelled with him, she knew she was safe here, for a while.

It was strange to dance so blithely when today had been so full of fear and pain, and grief – but when was life not? And the Doctor… Mary let her gaze stray back to him. He was humming along to the tune, happily oblivious of their incongruity here. He might have dragged her into an affair so terrible she had earlier wished him to take her home, or leave her, but he did not demand anything else, unlike too many other people she knew. This was not the first time she had run away, and she could not help but reflect on the difference between this escape, and the other.

When it was over, she remained where she was, not letting go of him, and leant forward to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Mary,” he said, in affected shock. “Whatever would Percy say?”

She met his gaze, a more mischievous smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “That,” she told him, “is, at least in part, my meaning. Thank you, Doctor. I know I can trust you – despite everything else.”

“Yes,” he said, with a cough. “I am sorry about all of that. It wasn’t supposed to –”

She nodded. “Yes. I know. You did not mean for it to be like this.”

They both turned their heads as they heard the music begin again.

“Time to go,” said the Doctor, moving away.

Mary paused. “Or we could have one last waltz. If you wished.”

“True. We could,” said the Doctor, seizing hold of her again, with his usual enthusiasm. “And why not? It is Vienna, after all. The night, the music, Vienna, Mary Shelley…”

And there, under the stars, in what was quite the oddest place, they danced again, far away from the constraints of life that she knew, in a moment’s freedom from danger and sorrow.


Date: 20 Jun 2012 07:54 pm (UTC)
ext_3965: (Eight Console)
From: [identity profile] persiflage-1.livejournal.com
Aw, sweet...

Date: 21 Jun 2012 03:26 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dbskyler.livejournal.com
Perfect little moment, nicely done! I think that out of all the Doctors, I'd most love a dance with Eight.

Date: 21 Jun 2012 03:02 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] ziggychaos.livejournal.com
Lovely! I'd love to dance with Eight, myself! :D

Date: 21 Jun 2012 11:00 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] laughinggas13.livejournal.com
Oh, this is lovely! You've caught this moment in their relationship really well and just... *inarticulate hand-waving*

Can I be added to Eight's dance card, please?

Date: 21 Jun 2012 11:58 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] daylightfire.livejournal.com
Beautiful. You've got both their voices down perfectly.


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