The Nutcracker: A Song and Dance with A Little Melody on the Side
TITLE: The Nutcracker: A Song and Dance with a Little Melody on the Side
SERIES: Doctor Who
RATING: K
SPOILERS: Through Series 6
DESCRIPTION: River/Eleven though largely secondary. The name pretty much says it all otherwise. And I'm fairly certain this is what actually happened.
Act Two, Scene One
Her breath blew out, hot across the freezing glass, clouding her view. She pulled back just long enough to wipe the condensation off with her coat sleeve before pressing her nose back against the window. There were more important things she was meant to be doing - she hadn't exactly forgotten that - but she couldn't tear her eyes away. The inside of the shop was a fantasy come to life.
Shelves lined the room, filled with the most wondrous toys: brightly painted toy soldiers standing proudly at attention, wooden cannon and horses ready at their side. Unbelievably detailed dolls clustered together, long curls falling from bonnet-covered heads onto dresses of lace and velvet. Intricate clocks hung from the walls, the cacophony of their ticking audible even outside. The counter against the far wall was covered in jars and bins filled nearly to overflowing with chocolates and peppermint sticks and assorted candies of every size and color imaginable.
A sudden laugh at her back startled her. “You can see better inside, you know, my dear.”
She turned to find a stranger standing behind her, a man with dark curly hair. She tried to smile, shrugging off his suggestion. “I know... but... I...” She couldn't help casting a longing look back through the window. But she knew only too well how shopkeepers felt about unaccompanied children.
The man eyes narrowed as he watched her. “Where are your parents?” he asked.
She waved her hands vaguely. “Oh... I... Uhm... Lost them.”
He smiled gently. “The war?”
She nodded. “Yes. That's right. The war.” She had no idea which war, of course. But it didn't matter. There was always a war. Even she knew that.
The man glanced past her at the shop. Then, looking down at her, he held out his hand. “Well, I was just heading in there myself. How about you come in with me? I could use some help with my purchases.”
She smiled up at him as she reached for his hand. “Yes. I'd like that very much, Mister....?
He returned her smile. “Hoffman. And, dear child, it will be my pleasure.”
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Some time later, her pockets filled with sweets and a half-eaten peppermint stick clutched in her hand, she left the shop with Mr. Hoffman. “Thank you,” she said, looking up at him.
“You're very welcome.” He watched her for a minute before continuing, “Do you have anywhere to go, child?”
She thought for a minute, biting her lip. He had been very kind to her - nicer than anyone had been for as long as she could remember - and she really didn't want to have to lie to him. But she was certain he'd never believe the truth... even just the parts of it she knew. And besides, she still had a job to do. So, nodding, she answered, “Yes. Of course.”
“Where?”
“I've got a home... just around the corner,” she answered smoothly, indicating down the street in front of them.
“With whom?”
“People. Nice people. You'd like them.”
“Child...?”
She tried to look as innocent as possible. “Yes?”
“Don't you think, maybe, you could try telling me the truth?”
She thought about it. After all, it's not like he was going to believe it, anyway. And it was certainly easier than coming up with a convincing lie. So she did.
She was right, of course. She could tell he didn't believe her. “That sounds like something I would write,” he said once she had finished telling her story.
“Oh, do you write?” she asked.
“Yes. And don't change the subject. I'm still trying to decide what to do with you.”
“You could help me?” she suggested hopefully.
“And if I don't?”
She smiled and shrugged. “I'm just going to have to figure it out for myself.”
He looked down at her; she continued to smile up at him. After a long moment, he sighed, admitting defeat. “Very well, then. Fine. If you're so determined to get into trouble, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I let you go wandering off on your own.” He adjusted his grip on her hand and returned her smile. “Besides, I think I know just where we can find the sort of thing you're looking for, left over from the war...”
Continued in Act Two, Scene Two
SERIES: Doctor Who
RATING: K
SPOILERS: Through Series 6
DESCRIPTION: River/Eleven though largely secondary. The name pretty much says it all otherwise. And I'm fairly certain this is what actually happened.
Act Two, Scene One
Her breath blew out, hot across the freezing glass, clouding her view. She pulled back just long enough to wipe the condensation off with her coat sleeve before pressing her nose back against the window. There were more important things she was meant to be doing - she hadn't exactly forgotten that - but she couldn't tear her eyes away. The inside of the shop was a fantasy come to life.
Shelves lined the room, filled with the most wondrous toys: brightly painted toy soldiers standing proudly at attention, wooden cannon and horses ready at their side. Unbelievably detailed dolls clustered together, long curls falling from bonnet-covered heads onto dresses of lace and velvet. Intricate clocks hung from the walls, the cacophony of their ticking audible even outside. The counter against the far wall was covered in jars and bins filled nearly to overflowing with chocolates and peppermint sticks and assorted candies of every size and color imaginable.
A sudden laugh at her back startled her. “You can see better inside, you know, my dear.”
She turned to find a stranger standing behind her, a man with dark curly hair. She tried to smile, shrugging off his suggestion. “I know... but... I...” She couldn't help casting a longing look back through the window. But she knew only too well how shopkeepers felt about unaccompanied children.
The man eyes narrowed as he watched her. “Where are your parents?” he asked.
She waved her hands vaguely. “Oh... I... Uhm... Lost them.”
He smiled gently. “The war?”
She nodded. “Yes. That's right. The war.” She had no idea which war, of course. But it didn't matter. There was always a war. Even she knew that.
The man glanced past her at the shop. Then, looking down at her, he held out his hand. “Well, I was just heading in there myself. How about you come in with me? I could use some help with my purchases.”
She smiled up at him as she reached for his hand. “Yes. I'd like that very much, Mister....?
He returned her smile. “Hoffman. And, dear child, it will be my pleasure.”
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Some time later, her pockets filled with sweets and a half-eaten peppermint stick clutched in her hand, she left the shop with Mr. Hoffman. “Thank you,” she said, looking up at him.
“You're very welcome.” He watched her for a minute before continuing, “Do you have anywhere to go, child?”
She thought for a minute, biting her lip. He had been very kind to her - nicer than anyone had been for as long as she could remember - and she really didn't want to have to lie to him. But she was certain he'd never believe the truth... even just the parts of it she knew. And besides, she still had a job to do. So, nodding, she answered, “Yes. Of course.”
“Where?”
“I've got a home... just around the corner,” she answered smoothly, indicating down the street in front of them.
“With whom?”
“People. Nice people. You'd like them.”
“Child...?”
She tried to look as innocent as possible. “Yes?”
“Don't you think, maybe, you could try telling me the truth?”
She thought about it. After all, it's not like he was going to believe it, anyway. And it was certainly easier than coming up with a convincing lie. So she did.
She was right, of course. She could tell he didn't believe her. “That sounds like something I would write,” he said once she had finished telling her story.
“Oh, do you write?” she asked.
“Yes. And don't change the subject. I'm still trying to decide what to do with you.”
“You could help me?” she suggested hopefully.
“And if I don't?”
She smiled and shrugged. “I'm just going to have to figure it out for myself.”
He looked down at her; she continued to smile up at him. After a long moment, he sighed, admitting defeat. “Very well, then. Fine. If you're so determined to get into trouble, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I let you go wandering off on your own.” He adjusted his grip on her hand and returned her smile. “Besides, I think I know just where we can find the sort of thing you're looking for, left over from the war...”
Continued in Act Two, Scene Two