five times; [river/doctor]
Dec. 23rd, 2011 12:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
helishdreamsfive times river asks the doctor his name; pg, 1217
His name was unknown. It had always been a sticking point with them- but somehow without being one. She had just learnt not to ask him. But there were times when she couldn’t help herself, she would throw the question out there and simply hope for best.
(a/n there's not much to say, really. This has been going around my mind for a while now, and I think it's finally fit for public consumption.)
“The last time I saw you, the real you, the future you, I mean - you turned up on my doorstep, with a new haircut and a suit. You took me to Darillium to see the singing towers. Oh, what a night that was! The towers sang, and you cried.” - River Song [Forest of the Dead]
His name was unknown. It had always been a sticking point with them- but somehow without being one. She had just learnt not to ask him. But there were times when she couldn’t help herself, she would throw the question out there and simply hope for best.
The last time she asks him it’s over breakfast.
River’s reading a newspaper from Santian IX, her eyes crinkling in silent laughter as she scans the article. ‘Unknown Doctor and Mystery Companion Save President’ the headline reads. She’s surprised to note they got most of the details right (though they left out the bit with the handcuffs), but feels the slightest touch at her heart at the concluding lines.
‘The Doctor’s current whereabouts are unknown, as is his true identity. If you have any further information, please contact Snr Ross at once.’
She sneaks a glance at him over the paper, smile fading into critical gaze as he sonics his tea back to boiling point.
‘Have you seen this?’ Her voice is soft, but he looks up sharply, as though he’d been waiting for her to speak.
‘What? Oh yes, that. Yes, all seems fine. Pity they left out the bit about the handcuffs. Must be a security protocol.’ He glances back down to the abandoned crossword, and it suddenly strikes River how domestic they’ve both become. She never thought it possible, and yet here she is- breakfast with The Doctor, chatting over tea and crosswords.
‘You done with that?’ His voice breaks though her reverie, and she hands him the paper in silence.
‘Doctor?’
‘Hmmm?’
‘Why don’t I know your name?’
He barely misses a beat. ‘Why should you?’
‘Because…’ She falters, but he still doesn’t look at her.
‘Because I’m sitting here, sharing tea and bloody crumpets with you and we’ve just saved the universe again, and sure, the whole world doesn’t have to know your name but don’t you think it’d be nice for me to know?’ She can hear her voice rising, knowing that she’s being melodramatic, but can’t help herself.
She’s not even sure whether he knows his name, and she’s this close from taking it back when looks up at her, all this sadness and pain and fear suddenly filling his eyes. ‘Oh River, I’m so, so sorry.’ He reaches across the table, and holds her hand in his. ‘Spoilers,’ he breathes softly.
She shakes his hand off violently, then gets up and leaves. She’s probably over-reacting, but that doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t follow her.
But all this domesticity has to end for the minute regardless. She’s leaving for The Library in a few days; it’ll be good to get some space.
The fourth time she asks him it’s almost a joke; a passing remark before near death. But his eyes give away the ending, and she knows he knows they aren’t going to die. Not today. So they laughs, hands intertwining as they run from the building together. It explodes the minute after they leave and they cling to each other, yelling and laughing in a rush of short-lived immortality.
The third time is in a letter; an ancient pastime, but one she’s always held dear.
The question, vague enough to be considered an afterthought, is asked in post-script, but the Doctor knows better.
The second time she’s lying in bed next to him.
He’s placing kisses slowly up her spine, one hand tangled through her hair, the other holding her hand softly. His body is warm next to hers, and suddenly she rolls over, claiming his mouth in an all-consuming kiss. She pulls away, smiling that smile. ‘Hello sweetie.’
He makes a noise, laugh mixed with groan, and she pulls him closer. Her voice is low, seducing, but she holds her distance. ‘So do you have a name- or do you just want me to call you Doctor, Doctor?’
She might’ve been a little drunk, but he’s never quite been able to tell with her. So he answers with a smile, and pulls her as close as he possibly can, dropping kisses onto her bare shoulder.
‘Sweetie is fine for now.’
The first time she's only sixteen, all legs and hair, and the Doctor's trying to convince her to follow him.
'I wouldn't be asking this if it wasn't absolutely necessary, but I swear to you that if you do not follow me, terrible things will happen.' A pause where she looks at him, one eyebrow raised in doubt, but then he shoots her a smile. 'I've always wanted to say that. But seriously, we have to get out of here. River, now.'
A rumble from deep within the house, and orange goo starts leaking down the walls. She looks up at him, intrigued but wary, and breaks into a run. Somehow their hands find each other, and each pulling one another forward, she yells at him, 'Okay then. If you know my name, it's only fair. What's yours? And none of this 'The Doctor' rubbish either.'
But he ignores her and keeps running, until suddenly she stops mere feet from the entrance to the house. Her hand yanks his, and he finds himself inches from her, her eyes blazing ferociously.
'Why should I trust you if you can't even tell me your name?'
He opens his mouth, about to speak, about tell her the truth- the terrible truth that she was never meant to know... not until the very end of her existence-
A loud 'pop!' sends them flying apart, the goo seeping from the walls suddenly flying everywhere, coating them both entirely. After an almost comical pause, as they stare at each other from across the hallway, The Doctor stifling a laugh at the terror on River's face, she finally speaks.
'Is that it then?'
' 'fraid so.'
Two swift steps forward, and her hand connected loudly with his cheek. 'I thought we were going to die!'
'Not die, no- 'terrible things', I said. And you see, I've always rather liked this jacket.'
She hits him once more for good measure, but laughs and pulls him from the building. She eyes the tweed momentarily and mutters, ‘Maybe it’s not quite so terrible.’
Later when they say goodbye, The Doctor gives her a tight hug which, surprisingly, she returns.
'I'll tell you my name one day... just not today. And not for a very, very long time.'
He lets go, and walks into the TARDIS, shutting the door tightly behind him. There's a silence, an emptiness in his heart as he leans over the console, avoiding catching his eye in the reflection.
Two days after breakfast, 32 years after goo, he gets a haircut.
His name was unknown. It had always been a sticking point with them- but somehow without being one. She had just learnt not to ask him. But there were times when she couldn’t help herself, she would throw the question out there and simply hope for best.
(a/n there's not much to say, really. This has been going around my mind for a while now, and I think it's finally fit for public consumption.)
“The last time I saw you, the real you, the future you, I mean - you turned up on my doorstep, with a new haircut and a suit. You took me to Darillium to see the singing towers. Oh, what a night that was! The towers sang, and you cried.” - River Song [Forest of the Dead]
His name was unknown. It had always been a sticking point with them- but somehow without being one. She had just learnt not to ask him. But there were times when she couldn’t help herself, she would throw the question out there and simply hope for best.
The last time she asks him it’s over breakfast.
River’s reading a newspaper from Santian IX, her eyes crinkling in silent laughter as she scans the article. ‘Unknown Doctor and Mystery Companion Save President’ the headline reads. She’s surprised to note they got most of the details right (though they left out the bit with the handcuffs), but feels the slightest touch at her heart at the concluding lines.
‘The Doctor’s current whereabouts are unknown, as is his true identity. If you have any further information, please contact Snr Ross at once.’
She sneaks a glance at him over the paper, smile fading into critical gaze as he sonics his tea back to boiling point.
‘Have you seen this?’ Her voice is soft, but he looks up sharply, as though he’d been waiting for her to speak.
‘What? Oh yes, that. Yes, all seems fine. Pity they left out the bit about the handcuffs. Must be a security protocol.’ He glances back down to the abandoned crossword, and it suddenly strikes River how domestic they’ve both become. She never thought it possible, and yet here she is- breakfast with The Doctor, chatting over tea and crosswords.
‘You done with that?’ His voice breaks though her reverie, and she hands him the paper in silence.
‘Doctor?’
‘Hmmm?’
‘Why don’t I know your name?’
He barely misses a beat. ‘Why should you?’
‘Because…’ She falters, but he still doesn’t look at her.
‘Because I’m sitting here, sharing tea and bloody crumpets with you and we’ve just saved the universe again, and sure, the whole world doesn’t have to know your name but don’t you think it’d be nice for me to know?’ She can hear her voice rising, knowing that she’s being melodramatic, but can’t help herself.
She’s not even sure whether he knows his name, and she’s this close from taking it back when looks up at her, all this sadness and pain and fear suddenly filling his eyes. ‘Oh River, I’m so, so sorry.’ He reaches across the table, and holds her hand in his. ‘Spoilers,’ he breathes softly.
She shakes his hand off violently, then gets up and leaves. She’s probably over-reacting, but that doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t follow her.
But all this domesticity has to end for the minute regardless. She’s leaving for The Library in a few days; it’ll be good to get some space.
The fourth time she asks him it’s almost a joke; a passing remark before near death. But his eyes give away the ending, and she knows he knows they aren’t going to die. Not today. So they laughs, hands intertwining as they run from the building together. It explodes the minute after they leave and they cling to each other, yelling and laughing in a rush of short-lived immortality.
The third time is in a letter; an ancient pastime, but one she’s always held dear.
The question, vague enough to be considered an afterthought, is asked in post-script, but the Doctor knows better.
The second time she’s lying in bed next to him.
He’s placing kisses slowly up her spine, one hand tangled through her hair, the other holding her hand softly. His body is warm next to hers, and suddenly she rolls over, claiming his mouth in an all-consuming kiss. She pulls away, smiling that smile. ‘Hello sweetie.’
He makes a noise, laugh mixed with groan, and she pulls him closer. Her voice is low, seducing, but she holds her distance. ‘So do you have a name- or do you just want me to call you Doctor, Doctor?’
She might’ve been a little drunk, but he’s never quite been able to tell with her. So he answers with a smile, and pulls her as close as he possibly can, dropping kisses onto her bare shoulder.
‘Sweetie is fine for now.’
The first time she's only sixteen, all legs and hair, and the Doctor's trying to convince her to follow him.
'I wouldn't be asking this if it wasn't absolutely necessary, but I swear to you that if you do not follow me, terrible things will happen.' A pause where she looks at him, one eyebrow raised in doubt, but then he shoots her a smile. 'I've always wanted to say that. But seriously, we have to get out of here. River, now.'
A rumble from deep within the house, and orange goo starts leaking down the walls. She looks up at him, intrigued but wary, and breaks into a run. Somehow their hands find each other, and each pulling one another forward, she yells at him, 'Okay then. If you know my name, it's only fair. What's yours? And none of this 'The Doctor' rubbish either.'
But he ignores her and keeps running, until suddenly she stops mere feet from the entrance to the house. Her hand yanks his, and he finds himself inches from her, her eyes blazing ferociously.
'Why should I trust you if you can't even tell me your name?'
He opens his mouth, about to speak, about tell her the truth- the terrible truth that she was never meant to know... not until the very end of her existence-
A loud 'pop!' sends them flying apart, the goo seeping from the walls suddenly flying everywhere, coating them both entirely. After an almost comical pause, as they stare at each other from across the hallway, The Doctor stifling a laugh at the terror on River's face, she finally speaks.
'Is that it then?'
' 'fraid so.'
Two swift steps forward, and her hand connected loudly with his cheek. 'I thought we were going to die!'
'Not die, no- 'terrible things', I said. And you see, I've always rather liked this jacket.'
She hits him once more for good measure, but laughs and pulls him from the building. She eyes the tweed momentarily and mutters, ‘Maybe it’s not quite so terrible.’
Later when they say goodbye, The Doctor gives her a tight hug which, surprisingly, she returns.
'I'll tell you my name one day... just not today. And not for a very, very long time.'
He lets go, and walks into the TARDIS, shutting the door tightly behind him. There's a silence, an emptiness in his heart as he leans over the console, avoiding catching his eye in the reflection.
Two days after breakfast, 32 years after goo, he gets a haircut.
