realmofthemuse; 1.88.3.E - Ship of Fools
Interval
The iceberg was there, lurking in the great blackness of the northern Atlantic, waiting for its date with destiny. The Doctor frowned and squinted his eyes, and swore he could make it out already, even though that was impossible, since they had another day and part of a night to go before anything happened.
Not for the first time during the voyage, he wished that he'd fashioned some sort of remote control for his TARDIS. He lost her too much, and ended up in ridiculous situations like this, stuck on a big boat in an even bigger ocean, destined for doom, trying to get to New York. It wasn't that he was worried for his life, because he wasn't in the slightest. There was only one John Smith listed on the list of deceased, and he was Cornish. The Doctor would most likely never be mistaken for Cornish. Besides, all that aside, it wasn't as though his own life mattered much anymore.
No, he was concerned about the fact that he would have to sit idly by while the victims of the disaster died. He'd had enough of dying, and of the powerlessness that came with being who he was. At least he hadn't caused this one.
“Penny?”
The voice broke through his morose thoughts and he turned to find a short blond woman in a black uniform smiling up at him, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “What?”
“For your thoughts. Seems that they're as dark as the ocean.”
He narrowed his eyes, which only caused her to smile wider. There was something strange about this one, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. “Shouldn't you be in the restaurant? Gatti isn't the sort to give anyone the night off, let alone a pretty girl.”
She laughed. “I'll take that as a compliment. I've got a secret, though.” She leaned forward and up, stretching to the tip of her toes. “I'm not really a waitress.”
“Oh, a stowaway?” The Doctor attempted to step back, alarmed by her closeness after he'd spent so long avoiding any contact with anyone, but the railing was directly behind him. “Well, you're a stupid one.”
“Not a stowaway,” she answered, falling back onto her heels. If she was stung by his remark, she didn't show it. “Just a traveler.”
Something about the way she said it, and the way she looked past his head to the stars that stretched behind him, reminded him of someone. That, and the fact that she didn't ask why it would be stupid to be a stowaway on the Titanic. “I'm a traveler, too. Where are you going?”
She shrugged, and smiled at him again. “To see the stars. They're beautiful here.” Her face went distant, as if she was trying to remember something, but it was out of her grasp.
“I don't know why here, but I know I've been on this ship before. Maybe. I keep finding myself in the strangest places: a junkyard across from a school, a calm place with a ginger boy that draws, a mountainous planet where the people worship the spirit of a great beast .” She paused and drew herself up again, staring dead on at the Doctor. “A world with orange skies.”
Startled, he tried to grab her by the shoulders, but his fingers slid through her arms as though they were nothing. “Who are you? ”
“My name is Astrid,” she said, still smiling, “and I think I know you. I go where you are, but you look different, don't you?”
He nodded, wordlessly.
“I think you brought me here, but I know I've been here before.” She stepped beside him, forcing him to turn to look at her, and ran her fingertips over the railing. “The Titanic. I should know, because... my name is Max.”
“I thought you said your name is Astrid. What sort of name is Max?”
Astrid blinked and looked at him. “I don't really know. A funny one, I suppose.” She smiled again, as if nothing had ever happened. He was starting to think she didn't have an intact memory. “What's your name?”
The Doctor shrugged. “John Smith.”
She held out her hand. “Is it Christmas, John Smith?”
He took her hand and shook it quickly before letting it drop. “No, April.”
“Oh,” Astrid pouted a little and then looked back towards the ocean. “It feels like it should be Christmas.”
“Listen, Astrid. Max. Whichever. I know a lot of things. A lot. Billions and billions. I don't know everything, though. For example, I don't know how you can lean on that railing without falling through, but I can't touch you. I don't know how you can get away with a skirt that short and boots that high on an early twentieth century ocean liner run by the British. And I definitely don't know what you are. I'd like to add those little bits of knowing to the other things I already know.” He paused. “Actually, I don't really care about the boots.”
“Star stuff,” she whispered, and leaned over and up again, to brush her lips across his cheek. It felt like a million tiny stars bursting against his skin. He looked over towards her, but she was practically translucent. “What are you doing tomorrow night, Mr. Smith?”
“Doctor,” he replied, murmuring darkly, “and in all likelihood I'll be clinging to the side of an iceberg.”
She laughed, as if it was a joke. “Maybe some other time then, Doctor. There are still so many places to go. I bet we meet again.”
He wasn't surprised when she disappeared. He turned back to the inky darkness of the ocean, squinting his eyes and trying to make out the silhouette of an iceberg in the distance.
Notes: I know relatively little about the historical events of the Titanic, so I play a little fast and loose with things. Gatti was really the manager of the restaurant, and there really was a John Smith from Cornwall on the ship. Thank heavens for wikipedia. Other than that, nothing is real. It's also my own little idea that Astrid is drawn to the Doctor once she becomes the Dusty Traveler. I thought it was cute, and it worked well with the story. Please ignore all paradoxes. Sincerely, the managment.