Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ah, here we are: Coal Hill. I don’t have time to give you a tour, but I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding your way. Remember, term starts Monday—physics teacher and sixth form student.  Keep a low profile, but enjoy yourselves.  Good luck.

With that, they were ushered out of the TARDIS and left them alone in a plaza on this strange planet.  The Doctor assured them it wouldn’t feel strange for long. 

The gravity will be slightly different, of course, and the Earth rotates in the opposite direction of your planet, but after a week or so you'll be used to the sun rising in the east.  The stars though—that will take a little longer to get used to—but remember, different galaxy; same universe.

Charlie studied the glass building that was clearly the school.  His school—no, their school.

“Well, come on.”  She started walking with barely a glance to ensure he was following.  “I don’t see why the Doctor couldn’t be bothered to leave us at the house.”

“He said it was only a short walk.”

“The length of the walk is not the point.”

Charlie said nothing.  Generally speaking, it was easier not to respond when she was in a mood—well, a mood on top of her baseline temperament of annoyed and sarcastic.  Of all the people to have escaped with, it had to be her.  That wasn’t fair, he self-edited.  He wouldn’t have made it out alive without her, and it was comforting to know he had someone sworn to protect him at his side.  But why did it have to be her?  Right then, she was actively ignoring him as she all but marched down the street with her gun in her hand. Wait, her gun?  That wouldn’t do. She shouldn't have her gun out.

“Must you have your gun out?”

She stopped and turned to look at him.  “We’re on a new planet in the middle of the night.”

“The Doctor said it was safe,” Charlie argued and she arched an eyebrow in response.  “And we’re supposed to keep a low profile.”

“Yes.”  She gestured at the residential neighborhood around them.  “Because there are so many people out and about at this hour.”

“There’s no one here, so you don’t need your gun.”

“I'll be the judge of that,” she said as she started walking again. 

“Put it away,” he said firmly.  She stopped walking but kept the gun in her hand.  “Now.”  He watched her clench her free hand into a fist, but move the other to put the gun into the pocket of her skirt.  “Thank you.”

She said nothing, but Charlie was certain she was scowling as she started walking again. She was always so obstinate.  They reached the house and she entered first.  He followed her inside but paused after a few paces to take in his new surroundings.

“Right, leave the door wide open,” she snapped.  He turned to look back at it, but before he could move to shut it, she brushed past him to do it herself.  “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”  She locked the door.  “Just as I take care of everything else,” she muttered as she walked past him again.  “Now, pick which bedroom you want,” she continued as she gestured at the stairs.  “I’m sure you were meant to choose.”

“You can decide.”

“How generous,” she said with mock politeness.  “Thank you, master.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Your highness, then?”

“Charlie.”

“Whatever.”

He let out an exasperated sight and watched her climb the stairs.  Holding the cabinet close, he gazed around the empty living space.  “Welcome home,” he said into the silence.

Chapter Text

She ended up giving him the nicer of the two bedrooms because, when it came down to it, she really didn’t care about the furnishings. The location, however, that mattered. Her bedroom was at the far end of the second floor, so the little prince would have no reason to walk past it. She’d take privacy over space any day. Besides, this bedroom was more than serviceable and it was nearly double in size from the one she had graciously been given by the Rhodia before the Shadow Kin attacked.

Just thinking about the Shadow Kin filled her with a white hot rage. She got up from her seat by the window and pulled her gun from the nightstand drawer. Cradling it against her chest, she breathed in and out slowly until she had forced the tears back. Tears would get her nowhere. Assimilation. That’s where she needed to focus. They would assimilate and then, in time, she would get her revenge. She would find a way to avenge her people—she’d even avenge the Rhodia if she had to. Putting her gun back in the drawer, she picked up the tablet that had found in the room and headed into the darkened corridor.

As she walked down the corridor, she didn’t observe any light or noise from the other bedroom. Of course, the prince would be able to sleep soundly. He didn’t seem to feel any of it. Sure, he had cried when his mother died, but she never saw any other emotion after—never any anger. It infuriated her. How was it fair for him to have survived when so many others—passionate, vibrant people—were killed? It wasn’t fair. He survived because of her. If they hadn’t forced the arn into her head, he would be dead and she would have been able to protect one of her own people. With her gun, she might even have been able to lead a resistance against the Shadow Kin, but no—the Rhodians knew best.

Sitting down at the kitchen table, she opened the tablet. She started with the English educational system generally before moving on to physics. It didn’t take her long to conclude that these humans barely scratched the surface and that teaching these moronic students would be beneath her. She researched the household appliances next and, a few hours and a few cups of tea later, she was flipping through pictures of cats with cheeseburgers and terrible grammar. This species had a strange fascination with cats. She heard a door open upstairs and closed the tablet when she heard footsteps on the stairs.

“The prince finally awakens,” she greeted mockingly. Predictably, he had no response when he entered the room. It was near-impossible to get a rise out of him. She watched him take a mug off the stand and move to fill it from the kettle. She smirked in amusement as a small amount of tea dribbled out. “That’s what you get for sleeping in.”

“It’s not even that late,” he grumbled. She watched him inspect the empty kettle and pull out the used teabag. He dangled it between his fingers and stared at it in confusion. He really was clueless.

“There’s a rubbish bin under the sink,” she said tiredly. “Refill the kettle with water and plug it in.”

“How long have you been awake?”

“A while,” she said with a shrug. Well, he managed to fill the kettle with water, but now he was staring it with confusion. She stood up from her seat at the table. “Honestly.” Snatching the kettle from him, she placed it on the electric base that was sitting on the counter in plain sight. “It’s not that hard.”

“Did you get any sleep?”

She folded her arms and leaned back against the counter. “Do you care or are you just asking to fill the silence?”

“I want to know.”

“A little.” It wasn't—couldn't be—a lie. She had dozed on the sofa in the lounge at one point. She didn’t want to talk about her sleep patterns. He may control most aspects of her life, but it was hardly his concern whether she was—or in this case wasn’t—sleeping. “Tea is in the cabinet to your left. Toss a bag in the kettle. It will beep when it’s ready.”

Somehow he managed to follow those simple steps without incident. “Is there any food?”

She shook her head. “Only the tea.”

“We’ll need food.”

“Eventually,” she said as she examined her fingers. She had found a fashion magazine on her tablet during the night and was certain she could give herself a manicure. All she would need was some of that nail varnish stuff.

“Do you plan to go shopping?”

She looked up from her fingers in annoyance. “Is that a question or an order?”

“Well, one of us has to do it.”

“And you don’t want to,” she concluded. He was very good at that—forcing her to do things without explicitly having to give her an order. The little prince knew that an implicit order was enough for the arn. “Don’t expect me to cook for you,” she said as she brushed past him. She would though. If the spoiled brat told her to, she wouldn’t have a choice.

Chapter Text

“I’m home,” he called as he shut the front door behind him. There was no response. It was possible that she had gone out or was in her room, but it was more likely that she was ignoring him. Charlie set his shopping bag of clothing at the base of the stairs and headed into the kitchen with another smaller bag. Unsurprisingly, she was at the table with her tablet.

“What did you do while I was at the store?” he asked. She said nothing and just swiped on her tablet. “Did you go out? Stay in?” Again, his words were met with silence. “Well?” She closed the tablet and stood up to leave the room. As she walked away, he dumped the contents of his smaller bag on the table.

The sound prompted her to turn around. “What?”

“Sweets.”

“I can see that. Why have you spilled them all over the table?”

“I thought you might want to try some,” he said with a shrug as he sat down.

“Why?”

“Because I did.”

“I’m not you.”

“Obviously.” He tried a different approach. “I can’t eat it all by myself.”

She sat back down, picked up a candy bar, and ripped through the wrapping. After taking a bite, she pulled a face, and dropped it back on the table. She picked up a different one. “You want something.”

“No I don’t.”

“Liar.”

“We need to talk.”

“We are talking,” she said with a mouth full of chocolate.

“I mean, in general.” He picked up one of the pieces and started unwrapping it slowly and meticulously. “Until now, the only thing you said to me today was that I needed to buy clothes for school.”

“You did.”

“That’s not talking. We can’t live in this house and ignore each other.”

“I think the past two days prove we can.”

“It’s not normal.”

“None of this is normal.” She gestured around the room with the partially eaten chocolate bar. “We’re not normal.”

“We can still talk.”

“You never wanted to talk to me before.” She fixed him with one of those looks that always made him uncomfortable. He hadn't a need to talk to her before—back when he still had his people. "In fact, I recall you ordering me not to speak on more than one occasion," she continued dryly. Charlie broke eye contact under the guise of looking down to break off a piece of his candy bar. “I’m not here to be your friend.”

“Well, no, but we are something.” She gave him another look. It was little terrifying how many different kinds of glares she could give him. “What I mean,” he continued. “Is that we’ll have to tell people something.”

“Yes. That we are from Sheffield.”

“What if the students find out that we live together?”

“You don’t let them.”

“But if they do…”

She cut him off with a look of disgust. “You’re not about to suggest that I pretend to be your mother.”

“No,” he said forcefully as he forced back the thoughts of his just and kind mother. His mother was nothing like her. There was no comparison. “But we need a story.”

“Well, we obviously can’t tell them that I’m you…”

He cut her off this time. “Don’t say it.”

“The mere fact that you can forbid me from saying it only proves my point.”

She was baiting him. Again. “Can we stick to the matter at hand?”

“You’re my ward,” she said after a dramatic sigh. “No relation. Your parents are abroad for work and you’re staying in England to complete your education. Your prior school in Sheffield made the arrangements for you to live with me.”

“That’s good. Did you just come up with that?”

She shook her head and started digging through the pile of sweets again. “I thought of it yesterday.”

“Were you going to tell me?”

“I just did.” He watched her as she took a slow bite of the new candy bar and chewed a couple of times before giving it a half-shrug of approval. She broke off the piece she had bitten and held the rest out to him. “You’ll like this one.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“You’re no prize.”

“Why would I be a prize?”

“It’s an expression. Maybe you should research this species so you can fit in.”

“I have been, but unlike you I also sleep,” he said, which earned him yet another glare. But she didn’t argue with him on the sleep point, which confirmed what he expected. He had awoken in the middle of the night and heard her pacing downstairs. He also checked her tablet while she was out that morning, and the data usage suggested she had been on that most of the past two nights. She needed sleep. “It would be easier to sleep if you drank less tea.”

“It’s coffee.”

“That has more caffeine.”

She dropped the candy bar on the table. “Fine. Don’t try it.”

He gave her a look and then picked it up to take a bite. “It’s good.”

“Told you.” They ate in silence for a few minutes. He reached for the bar she had first discarded and broke off a piece from the other end. “I wouldn’t,” she cautioned.

He took a bite and immediately pulled a face, while she leaned back in her chair and smirked. “That’s disgusting,” he said and she opened her mouth to say something in response. He held up his hand to stop her. “Yes, I know. You told me so. What is in that?”

She picked up the wrapper and examined it. “Caramel apparently.”

“It’s so sweet.” He got up to get a glass of water. “New house rule,” he began after swallowing a few gulps. “No caramel.”

“Approved.”

He finished his water and set the glass in the sink. “All right, I need to get my clothes out of the bags and into my wardrobe. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Not likely,” she said without looking at him. She was focused on fishing through the pile of sweets. “There is a faculty meeting that I must attend.”

“Well, I guess I’ll see you in fourth period then.”

“I guess,” she said distractedly as she studied the candy bar wrapper before dropping the bar on the table.

“Caramel?”

“Yes,” she said as she reached for another one.

He turned and headed to the stairs. “Goodnight then.”

“Night.”

Well, that was—well, maybe not nice—but not painful. He carried the bags into his room and placed them on his bed. He pulled a small box containing a vial of lavender oil from one of them and brought it into their shared bathroom. Turning it so the instructions on using it in a bath to aide sleep were visible, he left it in front of the meticulously arranged bottles on her half of the counter.

A couple hours later, when he was still trying to decide what constituted an appropriate outfit for the first day of school on Earth, he heard her on the stairs and then in the bathroom. He didn’t hear any glass breaking nor did she come storming into his room, so that was a good sign. A few minutes later he heard the water in the bath running and he smiled to himself. The next morning, he awoke to an empty house and a note stuck to the middle of the bathroom mirror:

I put a packed lunch in the refrigerator for you. Apparently, human children often bring food from home to school.

Well, that was almost kind. She must have gotten at least some sleep that night. When he got downstairs and looked in the refrigerator, he found another note stuck to the lunch.

This should decrease the odds of you making a fool of yourself in the cafeteria.

Apparently, sleep could only do so much.