AN: So this is me trying to write Eleven/River. Trying being the operative word because the Doctor is slippery when it comes to love and all the other relationships with his companions feel so platonic. I can see him "Dancing" with people but it's gotta be something special. Seriously. Stupid blocks of his. Rrrrr. But I will attempt it! Go River! I believe in you because I don't really have that much faith in myself but I vow to you, my dear readers, that I will get up to an M rating by fic's end!
This fic is helped along by the wonderful music of Matt Nathanson, Christina Perry, Ingrid Michealson, The XX, Portishead and Florence + The Machines. I'll be putting a song list up in my profile soon.
Because this is a challenge for me there's going to be lots and lots and LOTS of Doctor Introspection. Lots. So much so that it makes even me sick to write it. But I still feel that these bits of introspection are a good look into his head and makes him easier for me to write. It'll be good to get this all out of the way.
Also, a bit of a tribute to all of those "accidentally got married because I went to an alien world where I didn't understand the customs and because I did this I'm now hitched but not really" stories. Because from what I've learned from Star Trek, Stargate and Doctor Who, you never know what may or may not be a marriage proposal. I'm also a firm believer in love that transcends things like sex. You can love someone truly a deeply without it. There are pairings I adore because they love each other and know they love each other and it's so beautifully platonic. Like Donna. I loved their relationship so hard-core because of it.
I'm also going to make a LOT of references to the novels and audio adventures but that's because TARDISfiles has become something like my bible. Speaking off I started ordering the novels off of Amazon through a local game shop so those should be coming in soon. My goal is to own EVERYTHING. Wish my bank account the best of luck because it's gonna need it. Luckily the new novels are dirt cheap.
I'm still writing my other fanfiction and To Cold To Fly is giving me a few problems so to give you guys something to chew on while I work through the next chapter I'm giving you this fic that I've been writing since November. It was good stress relief and I'm all self-conscious about it because it's such an author-self-indulgence piece. But there you have it. And I guess it's not as weird as some of the other fics I'm working on. Like my Silence/Weeping Angel fic that's ninety-three percent romantic fluff.
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I tasted, tasted love so sweet
And all of it was lost on me
Bought and sold like property
Sugar on my tongue
I kept falling over
I kept looking backward
I went broke believing
That the simple should be hard
All We Are-Matt Nathanson
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After returning Dorium to his crypt and flinging the TARDIS into the vortex he took a moment to breathe. It had been awhile since he'd had a moment to breathe. He'd been too busy running and doing things. Lots of things. It was actually a bit weird to think about how much he did in those two hundred years of running. It was blatantly out of character and irresponsible and said something about just how out of his mind he was by himself. It was a bit like the last few decades of his tenth self where he had run across time and space doing meaningless things like create galaxies named Allison and get married to people he really shouldn't be getting married to and stalk former companions he really had no business stalking all to avoid his own fixed points. There had been so many better things he could have been doing with his spare time, but blind panic had always brought out the best and worst in him. The latter being the prevailing factor in his later centuries.
It was kinda nice to have a moment of quiet now.
He was protected in the vortex, time didn't exist in the vortex, barring any sudden phone calls he could stay as long as he wanted in the vortex. He leaned against the console, head bowed to stare sightlessly at the controls. One hand raised up to pat the casing around the blown glass rotor.
"What do you think, Dear?" He whispered. The rotor itself was silent, but the faint singing hum in his head was soothing and welcoming, as it always was. It was love unconditional, always received and gratefully returned.
He could do with some unconditional love right about now.
What to do about River? He hadn't lied on that count. Her days spent in prison and her nights spent playing time and space roulette with the Randomizer. But what did that really mean, exactly?
Married? He'd been married dozens of times in his life, most of them accidental.
With Bess he'd been lonely and afraid and she'd been going through a bit of a rough patch as well and it had been a blind, snapshot decision because he had been trying so hard to feel nothing about anything. She'd been passionate about her beliefs and had reminded him of Donna in a way that ached. It had been an impulsive decision and he really did feel guilty about leaving her out in that meadow. On the other hand it had made her a stronger, more independent woman who had fought viciously for every scrap of power she possessed so at least that had turned out alright in the end... Right?
With Marilyn, that had been a bit of a spur-of-the-moment sort of thing. She'd been tipsy and he'd been lost in the moment and there had been mistletoe involved and probably some comment about improper behavior that lead to the alter that created some sort of snowballed misunderstanding. He liked her. Really he did. In the prime of her life she had been vibrant and brilliant and so very alive. She was a creature in need of a good chase, so he'd given her something to chase. He had plans to bump into her again just for a laugh. She would have been a fabulous companion had she not already been married to her hectic and lascivious lifestyle. The way her life would end still bothered him, and he cherished those little pieces of her that he could catch and hold, like lightning bugs in the dark.
He'd been accidentally engaged to Martha but had laughed it off so fast he wasn't sure she had understood what was going on and liked to keep it that way. He had not wanted that close of a relationship with anyone. Not after Rose. He knew he should have looked harder for someone else. Someone who wouldn't get so attached. Like a very, very straight man or a very, very gay woman or a very, very asexual humanoid. But she had held all of the qualities he looked for in a companion. Her only flaw was her attraction to him and maybe if he hadn't been so damaged he most likely would have handled it better, handled her better. He knew she left with her heart broken despite her brave face but she had at least grown up enough to admit it. No use feeling bad about it, at least she was still fond of him. That was more than he could say for an embarrassing number of former companions. Besides, she had Mr. Mickey to fuss over now and that little piece of knowledge was the best feeling ever. No one had deserved more love and a perfect match than Mickey Smith. More Smiths, that was the key! And if Lukey-boy could hook up with one of Jo's many grand-daughters, why that would be a dream come true for him. More Smiths! More Jones'! An entire planet over-run by brilliance! There had been Time Lords who had spent millenia trying there hands at selective breeding a planet of choice. Picking and choosing bloodlines and carefully balancing them out to get their chosen race to evolve. He had done it by sheer accident and would gladly take any and all credit. Hah. Take that.
He'd been engaged to Jo only once and hadn't told her about it. She might have guessed though, she was always good at spotting patterns of suspicious behavior when it came to him. He almost proposed to her on purpose. He had been exiled and stranded and so damned lonely and she was there. Faithful and true and brilliant. It would have been a good partnership. He still felt guilty over how he had behaved when she left him. But that was his only regret.
He'd been married to Sarah Jane three, maybe four, times over the course of his third and fourth regenerations. They had even gone through the second one from beginning to end because it had made her happy and the party had been a beautiful medieval masque in Barcelona, the country not the planet. She had looked truly stunning and her fondness for him helped him get over Jo leaving him for that hippie of hers. She had always loved him and he knew he would always love her. The comparison between his relationship with her and with Rose was astounding and he'd felt so grateful that the universe would bless him with that kind of kindness and love twice. When he'd seen her again he'd been worried that she was lonely, all by herself waiting for him to come back. It had been the first time he had ever felt guilty about leaving her behind the way he did. He should have come back for her or at least made sure she was alright. He should have come back to at least tell her that he was alright, because her tears over the decades old fear that he had died still haunted him. He had felt a bit bad about how she had waited too long to move on with her life, he knew she had wanted children at some point and had felt as if it were too late. But the next time he saw her not only did she have a son, but that kid was like a humanoid spitting image of what he imagined Sarah had imagined when she'd thought of having children with him. He'd had to check twice just to make sure Luke wasn't somehow his. If Gallifrey were still around he would have taken him to the Academy. He would have been brilliant. The third student of human decent to even qualify. He still had some wibbley-wobbly bookey-wookey plans to grab the kid and maybe enroll him into some other schools off planet. His mind was too big and learned to fast to ever be content with Earth for long.
He'd been almost married to Leela, but when she caught onto what was happening she had caused such a raucous that the whole monarchy revised their policies on feminism and marriage. He'd then been pinned to the outside of the TARDIS, hands forced to his sides and her knee wedged dangerously between his legs, and told, in no uncertain terms, that if she decided to claim a man she would do it her way. He had feared for Andred's life when she'd claimed him, but she had done so with such gentleness that it touched his hearts. His viscous little barbarian, teaching the society of Time Lords what love was.
He and Romana had talked seriously about marriage several times and each and every time something always came up. Politics. His brother being an arse. Time line collapses. Political corruption because his brother was being an arse. The Council being morons. Universal reboots. Alternate universal reboots. Gallifrey blowing up. War. More politics. His brother being a treasonous arse. Demonic possession. Romana going insane. Himself going insane. Amnesia. Losing his heart. Regaining his heart. Rassilon. Rassilon being an arse. Rassilon being an insane arse. His TARDIS going on the fritz and eating things she really shouldn't be eating. Like time lines for example. Or entire planets. Exile to alternate universes. Universal takeover. Alternate universal takeover. More exile. Crossing his own timeline like an eight stranded friendship bracelet. His brother crossing his own timeline in order to get the best deals on black market stolen art that really didn't need stealing. Gallifrey being over run by the undead. Pink Cybermen. More possession. More exile. More corrupt politics. The Time War. The Time Lock. The Moment. Not in the same order but life for his Eighth self had been a little bit like a really fast-paced hallucination where all he could see were time lines and those time lines were doing something a bit like a really drunken Spirograph. And he had really wanted to be with her too, towards the end. They were both a bit crazy and a bit damaged and not at all in their right minds but still. He had really and truly believed that they could overcome anything so long as they had each others names and knowledge of a place to come home to. He hadn't even been given the chance to say good-bye. His arse of a brother wouldn't tell him where she had been taken and by the time he could have found out it was too late.
He'd been married to the Corsair a few times. Those times didn't really bear thinking about. Or mentioning. Ever.
When he'd told Teagan that because she'd drunk out of the same cup as him at that party they were engaged she had snorted wine out her nose and laughed so hard she was almost sick. And that was the end of that. He had the feeling it had been a knee-jerk reaction, though, because, for awhile, she would blush a little whenever they made eye-contact, but that only lasted until the next dangerous adventure she crash-landed him into.
He had been married to Peri for a short time and had kept it because it made her irritable. And Peri irritable made him content. Peri angry was a thing of beauty. Peri enraged was pure wonder and filled his hearts with happiness. Peri finally taking off one of her shoes and beating him with it, not so much. She had been wearing heels the day he finally gave in and ended it. She kept the stupid ring though. He vaguely hoped she still had it.
Jack had proposed to him on and off over the course of their acquaintance and, while it felt nice to know that there was always a place for him in Jack's life, Jack was Jack. He no longer felt uncomfortable by Jack's existence but that was only from overexposure to it and there was only so much flirting and innuendo he could take before it became irritating. One should always have back-up when interacting with Jack Harkness. Or at least a willing victim to throw at him. Or a prostitute.
He'd been married to Rose a few times and the last one he'd conveniently forgot to annul. But that was alright, she was off having a married life with himself in Pete's World (or Pete's Universe depending on how fast they got that little piece of coral to grow) and now that he'd let a few centuries and a regeneration pass it didn't hurt nearly as much as it once had. It was even a bit funny in a sad, twisted sort of way. At least their parting wasn't as traumatic or life-ending as some he could name.
He was more careful about accepting things like gifts, food and drink from people then he had when he was young. Not by much, but there was always the thought that saying yes to anything might lead to trouble. Ever since a bright, beautiful, intelligent Aztec woman had offered to share cocoa and laughed with him in perfect understanding. He still had Cameca's necklace in his pocket. He still thought about her, one of the few he could think about without excruciating pain. She was one of his first and most exquisite mistakes. He'd gone back to her in the latter part of his seventh life, right before he'd been called back to oversee the Master's execution. He went back to Earth, courted Cameca properly, offered to share cocoa with her. Asked her if she'd live out the rest of her life with him. He'd shown her the stars. She had been so pleased to see Susan again and the TARDIS had taken her to as many safe planets as she could find. She studied the plant life of so many different worlds and had connected with so many different life forms that were just like her. She lived well into her nineties, two whole decades longer than she would have lived on Earth. But Cameca had been a bit of a special case and he had been a completely different man. For him, it was like a fifty-year vacation, a well deserved rest with pleasant company. After he had cremated her body he felt he could travel again, be the Doctor again. The wanderlust had felt good and he was able to recapture the wonder of the universe for himself again.
He'd been hand-fasted to Charley and Donna and those two, and only those two, had been completely and totally on purpose from beginning to end. Charley, because it was Charley, and he'd been a bit strange in the head all through that eighth regeneration, and she did say she always wanted a wife. Now that he thought about it she might have been joking but at least she had been willing to humor him. Donna had told him, point blank, that he needed someone to hold and if she was going to be the one to cure touch starvation and guilt-induced insomnia as well as keeping his weird emotionally masochistic tendencies and self-flagellation in check, she was going to make an honest man out of him first. A year and a day. Charley had made it by a month before she was stolen from him. Donna had barely made it through nine before the end. It was both comforting and disturbing to know that she had waited out the rest of that time before even considering dating anyone. Wilf had told him she had kept Shaun waiting, because she felt she couldn't. Her sense of loyalty and fidelity had been so strong it had bypassed the memory lock.
All of those strange brief marriages, all of those accidental weddings, and none of them had felt like this.
If he were honest with himself, and he very rarely tried to be, it had felt good. Unreasonably, unaccountably good, to hold his end of the tie and feel the gentle tug from River's end as she wrapped it around her hand. The words had felt good, even if poor Rory had been a bit confused at first. Getting Amelia's blessing had felt nice. Really, truly nice. It had been too long since any mother had approved of him and a double dose of fuzzies getting instant approval from the face his newly regenerated eleventh life had imprinted on.
"Never doubt a mother's instincts..." Vastra's voice echoed and he had to shake his head in bemusement.
She had known all along hadn't she. Clever little Amelia Pond. So if River wanted and Amelia approved, where did that leave him?
His beginning was her end and even way back then it had hurt to watch her body die. And it hurt now to think of a fall of ginger hair and eyes like starfire who had reassured him so firmly and devoutly that everything would be alright. To think of a gentle hand enfolded in his, warm arms that gave comfort even as it sought for it, who had loved him enough to break the universe and swallow the vortex to save him from himself. Even if the memories were faded by centuries and the fog of regeneration it still hurt to think about them. Any of them. It would always hurt. And he had sealed away too many memories and thrown away the key to let go of this pain now. He was too old and too threadbare. To think there would come a time when he would be so lonely and old and starved in his soul that he would look back on such painful memories with fondness.
He refused to even think about the children. Refused to even acknowledge their existence. Quick flashes of hair and eyes and smiles, that was it. Just to make sure they were there in his head and then behind the locked door again to stay.
Only one child mattered and she had very seriously offered to at least take on a portion of his burdens, at least for a little while. Who had almost imploded the universe to save him and where had he heard that one before...
"Well, sweetheart, how do you feel about your old pilot finding himself in such a pickle?" He asked, smiling up at the comforting golden glow of the overhead lights. An eleventh dimensional being isn't really designed to communicate with a mind as simple as a merely five dimensional being like the Doctor. But the warmth of his connection to her was all the answer or approval he really needed.