Fic: Time's Echoes (DW/S&S)
Title: Echoes
Author: lost_spook
Rating: All ages
Word Count: 1152
Characters/Pairings: Silver/Liz Shaw
Notes/Warnings: None.
Summary: Liz has an unexpected visitor - over and over again.
For persiflage_1 in the 500 Prompts Meme - Prompt 482: Those who do not remember the past - Silver/Liz Shaw (S&S/DW)
***
The first time Silver breezed though the laboratory and out again with a smile and a “Do excuse me” in passing, Liz merely raised an eyebrow and waited for something worse to happen, but he had gone.
The second time it happened, she raised both eyebrows, while on the third time she tried to catch hold of him, but she was too slow. The fourth time around, she was ready. It was twenty-one minutes past the hour, the precise moment when he’d appeared on the other three occasions, and Liz made sure she had stopped what she was doing, and waited for him.
“Do excuse me,” Silver said - again - as he walked in, and then on past her.
Liz caught at his arm, managing to grasp the edge of his jacket sleeve - not enough to stop him. She thought she’d failed again, but he turned around and gave her a curious look.
“Silver?” she said. Then, when he didn’t say anything: “What are you doing?”
Silver remained where he was, standing in front of her. “You know me.” There was surprise in his tone, but it wasn’t a question.
“Of course I do,” said Liz. “This isn’t the first time, is it? It isn’t even the first time today. You’ve come in here, exactly like this at the same time every hour for the past three hours. Exactly the same, like a tape on a reel - or a very regular ghost.”
Silver gave her a slightly shifty smile. “Oh.”
“And you should remember me, too,” she said. “Has someone done something to you, or -?”
“That would be impossible. And I assure you, I’ve only walked through here once.”
“It’s the fourth time! What are you up to? Going by past experience, I think I’d like to know before anything worse happens.”
Silver opened his mouth to answer, and then stopped. He moved nearer to her, and nodded towards the end wall. “Talking of ghosts…”
“There’s something in the next room?” Liz asked, and then belatedly added: “Not that I believe in ghosts.”
“Lingering memories,” said Silver, with a shrug. “Echoes. Call them what you will, but they’re things that time can use. Now, do excuse me, I have an antiquated mechanism to attend to. A bell of sorts.”
“Look, don’t you think something must be going wrong if you’ve -” Liz came to a halt as Silver vanished again. She glared at the spot where he had been. “Insufferable man! He’s definitely worse than the Doctor.”
It was impossible to return to her current project after that. She kept wondering whether she was the one causing temporal problems, although she didn’t see how. She was, she reminded herself, only analysing soil samples for UNIT, something she’d protested forcibly about yesterday. Still, if something had trapped Silver in some sort of time loop, then she should probably be worrying for the safety of the entire establishment.
“Damn,” she said, and turned her back on the apparatus on the workbench and headed off to check the next room, even though it had been empty last time she’d looked.
In the doorway, she almost walked straight into Silver, who beamed at her.
“Liz!”
She glared at him. “Oh, so now you know me?”
“Now -?” Silver looked back at her in incomprehension, before his face cleared and then he gave a sudden laugh. “Oh, I wonder -”
“You’ve been through here four times already this morning, so don’t try to tell me -”
“Once,” said Silver, holding up a finger as if to correct her. “Once, and you weren’t here. It was about twenty past eight this morning, I think. And then I went into that room where I’ve been working on a rather tricky problem -”
“A bell of some kind, you said?”
“Did I? Yes. A bell pull connected to the servants’ quarters.”
“But that can’t still work,” said Liz. “And, anyway, I looked in the next room. You weren’t there.”
Silver waved a hand, as if to indicate that the details were all terribly dull and unimportant, and then muttered something about a cupboard and being underneath a desk, and possibly the floorboards. “Anyway,” he added, “it wasn’t working, as such, no. But it caused a small fracture in time - there were echoes of particular moments spreading outwards -”
“You said that, too,” Liz told him, and then frowned, taking that in. “What I saw was an echo or splinter of you, emanating out from the central point of the fracture?”
“Of that moment, not of me.”
“But I spoke to you. We had a conversation.”
“Hmm,” said Silver. “Well, you shouldn’t have been able to do that, no.”
“But I did. Or you did.”
Silver grinned. “Well, I suppose I might be able to -”
“Even a mere fraction of you?”
Silver held out his hands.
“Stupid question,” said Liz. “Of course.”
Silver edged forward and took hold of her hand. He glanced at her, and then kissed it. “And you are rather determined - and I have always liked you -”
Liz shook her head at him, but she didn’t pull her hand away.
“And, you know, something caused a pause in its malfunctions, just long enough for me to finally get at it and follow the link back to the source. Perhaps I should thank you?”
“As long,” said Liz, “as this has nothing to do with my current project, I don’t think I care.”
Silver glanced over at the workbench and then danced over to it, picking up a few bits and pieces, and giving them mildly amused looks. “Oh, is that what all this is?”
“I work better without alien beings sneering at my progress, thank you,” said Liz, pulling a test tube out of his grasp and slapping his fingers away from her notes. “Leave that alone. Goodness only knows what you might do to it!”
Silver gave her a hurt expression.
“I’m sure,” said Liz, “that you could probably skew my results and it wasn’t especially interesting in the first place, so I don’t want to have to start again.”
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t.”
“No.” Then Liz relented. “I was thinking, though, it was about time for a cup of tea, if you wanted to join me?”
Silver smiled at her again. “How kind. I think I might, this once. It has been a while and I do like a good cup of tea.”
“How long?” said Liz, taking hold of his arm, more in eagerness to ensure he didn’t touch her work again, rather than for any other reason.
“Hmm,” Silver said, as they left through the door, “well, last year, I suppose, but before that - it might have been… 1958, I think. Or was it 1959? 1962?”
Liz laughed, and kissed him on the cheek, because, despite herself, she was oddly fond of certain impossible non-human beings. They did make life interesting, after all.
***
Crossposted from Dreamwidth -- Comments there:
Author: lost_spook
Rating: All ages
Word Count: 1152
Characters/Pairings: Silver/Liz Shaw
Notes/Warnings: None.
Summary: Liz has an unexpected visitor - over and over again.
For persiflage_1 in the 500 Prompts Meme - Prompt 482: Those who do not remember the past - Silver/Liz Shaw (S&S/DW)
***
The first time Silver breezed though the laboratory and out again with a smile and a “Do excuse me” in passing, Liz merely raised an eyebrow and waited for something worse to happen, but he had gone.
The second time it happened, she raised both eyebrows, while on the third time she tried to catch hold of him, but she was too slow. The fourth time around, she was ready. It was twenty-one minutes past the hour, the precise moment when he’d appeared on the other three occasions, and Liz made sure she had stopped what she was doing, and waited for him.
“Do excuse me,” Silver said - again - as he walked in, and then on past her.
Liz caught at his arm, managing to grasp the edge of his jacket sleeve - not enough to stop him. She thought she’d failed again, but he turned around and gave her a curious look.
“Silver?” she said. Then, when he didn’t say anything: “What are you doing?”
Silver remained where he was, standing in front of her. “You know me.” There was surprise in his tone, but it wasn’t a question.
“Of course I do,” said Liz. “This isn’t the first time, is it? It isn’t even the first time today. You’ve come in here, exactly like this at the same time every hour for the past three hours. Exactly the same, like a tape on a reel - or a very regular ghost.”
Silver gave her a slightly shifty smile. “Oh.”
“And you should remember me, too,” she said. “Has someone done something to you, or -?”
“That would be impossible. And I assure you, I’ve only walked through here once.”
“It’s the fourth time! What are you up to? Going by past experience, I think I’d like to know before anything worse happens.”
Silver opened his mouth to answer, and then stopped. He moved nearer to her, and nodded towards the end wall. “Talking of ghosts…”
“There’s something in the next room?” Liz asked, and then belatedly added: “Not that I believe in ghosts.”
“Lingering memories,” said Silver, with a shrug. “Echoes. Call them what you will, but they’re things that time can use. Now, do excuse me, I have an antiquated mechanism to attend to. A bell of sorts.”
“Look, don’t you think something must be going wrong if you’ve -” Liz came to a halt as Silver vanished again. She glared at the spot where he had been. “Insufferable man! He’s definitely worse than the Doctor.”
It was impossible to return to her current project after that. She kept wondering whether she was the one causing temporal problems, although she didn’t see how. She was, she reminded herself, only analysing soil samples for UNIT, something she’d protested forcibly about yesterday. Still, if something had trapped Silver in some sort of time loop, then she should probably be worrying for the safety of the entire establishment.
“Damn,” she said, and turned her back on the apparatus on the workbench and headed off to check the next room, even though it had been empty last time she’d looked.
In the doorway, she almost walked straight into Silver, who beamed at her.
“Liz!”
She glared at him. “Oh, so now you know me?”
“Now -?” Silver looked back at her in incomprehension, before his face cleared and then he gave a sudden laugh. “Oh, I wonder -”
“You’ve been through here four times already this morning, so don’t try to tell me -”
“Once,” said Silver, holding up a finger as if to correct her. “Once, and you weren’t here. It was about twenty past eight this morning, I think. And then I went into that room where I’ve been working on a rather tricky problem -”
“A bell of some kind, you said?”
“Did I? Yes. A bell pull connected to the servants’ quarters.”
“But that can’t still work,” said Liz. “And, anyway, I looked in the next room. You weren’t there.”
Silver waved a hand, as if to indicate that the details were all terribly dull and unimportant, and then muttered something about a cupboard and being underneath a desk, and possibly the floorboards. “Anyway,” he added, “it wasn’t working, as such, no. But it caused a small fracture in time - there were echoes of particular moments spreading outwards -”
“You said that, too,” Liz told him, and then frowned, taking that in. “What I saw was an echo or splinter of you, emanating out from the central point of the fracture?”
“Of that moment, not of me.”
“But I spoke to you. We had a conversation.”
“Hmm,” said Silver. “Well, you shouldn’t have been able to do that, no.”
“But I did. Or you did.”
Silver grinned. “Well, I suppose I might be able to -”
“Even a mere fraction of you?”
Silver held out his hands.
“Stupid question,” said Liz. “Of course.”
Silver edged forward and took hold of her hand. He glanced at her, and then kissed it. “And you are rather determined - and I have always liked you -”
Liz shook her head at him, but she didn’t pull her hand away.
“And, you know, something caused a pause in its malfunctions, just long enough for me to finally get at it and follow the link back to the source. Perhaps I should thank you?”
“As long,” said Liz, “as this has nothing to do with my current project, I don’t think I care.”
Silver glanced over at the workbench and then danced over to it, picking up a few bits and pieces, and giving them mildly amused looks. “Oh, is that what all this is?”
“I work better without alien beings sneering at my progress, thank you,” said Liz, pulling a test tube out of his grasp and slapping his fingers away from her notes. “Leave that alone. Goodness only knows what you might do to it!”
Silver gave her a hurt expression.
“I’m sure,” said Liz, “that you could probably skew my results and it wasn’t especially interesting in the first place, so I don’t want to have to start again.”
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t.”
“No.” Then Liz relented. “I was thinking, though, it was about time for a cup of tea, if you wanted to join me?”
Silver smiled at her again. “How kind. I think I might, this once. It has been a while and I do like a good cup of tea.”
“How long?” said Liz, taking hold of his arm, more in eagerness to ensure he didn’t touch her work again, rather than for any other reason.
“Hmm,” Silver said, as they left through the door, “well, last year, I suppose, but before that - it might have been… 1958, I think. Or was it 1959? 1962?”
Liz laughed, and kissed him on the cheek, because, despite herself, she was oddly fond of certain impossible non-human beings. They did make life interesting, after all.
***
Crossposted from Dreamwidth -- Comments there: