"What do you think? It's from the security cameras in the Byzantium vault." River explains. The bulky remote in her hand points at a screen nearly the size of the wall she's facing. A black and white image of a stone angel is displayed, it's hands covering its face as if it were crying. The screen glitches every few seconds and the time signature returns from 00:11:28:04 to 00:11:24:23 every time it does.
The Doctor takes a few tentative steps towards the screen and Amy plants herself next to River who continues, "I ripped it when I was on board. Sorry about the quality. It's four seconds—I've put it on loop."
"Yeah, it's an Angel," the Doctor murmurs. "Hands covering its face."
River tries not to call him Captain Obvious. She isn't thick— she knows what a Weeping Angel is. The fact that he's familiar, however, is a lovely ripe clue to when he is: Early days. "You've encountered the Angels before?" River asks carefully.
"Once, on Earth, a long time ago—but those were scavengers, barely surviving," he replies a bit nonchalantly, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.
"But it's just a statue," Amy's voice chimes in next to River's ear. Oh, she really is young. Even younger than her Doctor. How long have the two of them been traveling together? Mere weeks, River is starting to think.
This might complicate things.
"It's a statue when you see it," River says as steadily as she can.
The Doctor suddenly unfolds his arms and gets a little more close than necessary. River can see the gears turning in his head as he asks, "Where did it come from?"
"Oh, pulled from the ruins of Razbahan, end of last century. It's been in private hands ever since—Dormant all that time."
He turns away from her and looks back at the recording. "There's a difference between dormant and patient."
Amy is starting to get a little annoyed at being the slow one on the uptake. "What's that mean, 'it's a statue when you see it?'"
"The Weeping Angels can only move if they're unseen. So legend has it," River supplies, though she knows very well that it's never been just a legend—
"No, it's not a legend," the Doctor interrupts. River holds her breath and tries not to glare at him for stealing her thoughts. "It's a quantum lock. In the sight of any living creature, the Angels literally cease to exist. They're just stone. The ultimate defense mechanism."
"What, being a stone?" Amy frowns.
"Being a stone until you turn your back," he says quietly, offering Amy a smile.
"Doctor?" It's Octavian's voice that breaks the seconds of silence. River doesn't look at the man, but Amy and the Doctor are attentive. "Have you found anything?"
It's a tad strange how the Doctor goes baby-faced. It doesn't suit this face when he already looks like a prepubescent boy. Someone asks for a plan and off the Timelord goes, rambling about hyperdrives and burn radiation as he marches right out of the dropship with Amy on his tale.
Idiot.
River sighs and sits down on a crate, pinching the bridge of her nose. It should've been fine. It's not like this is the first out-of-sync-Doctor River has encountered—far from it, actually.
It's been nearly a year of trying to get pardoned, going from one mission to the next with nothing but a 'we'll see about it' from the wardens like she's some sort of toddler who's demanding the impossible.
Freedom is not impossible. She dines with freedom every other night, regardless of what her minders have to say about it. What is impossible, apparently, is meeting a Doctor who knows her twice in a row.
It's her own fault for expecting him to be older. All it does is create disappointment and longing for just a few days ago when he held her in bed and told her to never leave.
And Amy… River had just been over for dinner with her parents last month. She tells herself it doesn't hurt to be laughing with her one moment and be meeting her for the first time the next.
It's no use getting upset over and perhaps there's a little use in pretending she's not already doing so. There's a job to be done and 6 million human colonists who live on this planet. It can't be about her right now. It can't even be about him.
River takes a breath and looks around the empty dropship. She can hear the Doctor outside, still going on about how the local population should be evacuated. She glances back at the footage she'd escaped with and—
Now that can't be right.
River tries not to jump to conclusions, walking quickly to the door. "Octavian?"
"What is it, Dr. Song?" He, Amy, and the Doctor are discussing something around a table. She figures she'll get informed if it's anything important.
"Did you find another clip of the Angel?"
"No, just the four seconds you gave us," he answers and her stomach only twists a little.
By her feet, there's an old leather-bound book. She knows it because she put it there herself. She'd meant to show the Doctor, but it looks like they're going to have to split up the jobs. The video needs her attention.
River picks up the book and throws it at the trio. "Catch!"
Amy is the only one quick enough not to let the book fall to the ground. "What this?"
"One of the only definitive works on the Angels. Have a look, I've got to check something out." With that, she turns to go back into the dropship.
The Angel definitely moved.
It faces River fully, its arms by its sides and palms outward like some sort or ritual. River gives it her best glare as she glances just for a moment at the time stamp to make sure it hasn't changed
When she looks back up, the Angel is even closer and its arms a bit more raised. River steps back, barely stifling a gasp.
Behind her, the door slams shut and this time she does jump.
"You're just a recording," River says aloud. She doesn't really believe it now, but she's trying very hard not to let the panic that's rising in her spill out. "You can't move."
Slowly, and with two eyes on the Angel, River takes the remote from a side table. She grabs it firmly and presses the power-down.
The screen flickers to dark but River isn't even able to let her breath out before the image comes back on, even closer this time. She tries again but the monitor switches itself back on again. And again. And again.
She stops after a few tries, realizing this is getting her nowhere. "You can't hurt me," River whispers and if her voice shakes a bit, the Angel doesn't comment.
Cautiously, River steps in close enough to the lead cable to give it a yank. She gives it quite a few good yanks, actually. She looks down just for a second to see if it's caught on anything and when she looks up a stone face looks back at her much too close for comfort. River jumps back, her hearts beating faster than she gives them any right to.
Time for backup then. She backs up to the door maintaining eye contact with the recording. The door proves just as movable as the cable had been. "Ugh! Open, damn you!" River looks to see if anything can be unlocked from the inside and when she looks back, the Angel is snarling.
Blindly, River tries random inputs on the keypad by the door, slamming it with her fist when she gets nowhere. "Doctor!"
There's no answer for a long moment and she's almost sure the idiot has wandered off and forgotten she's in here. She's actually considering shouting for Octavian instead when she finally hears a response.
"River?" The Doctor sounds worried and she rather hopes she doesn't have to waste too much time on explaining the situation.
She can't help the sigh of relief that escapes her, however short-lived it may be. It's just one blink, one mere fraction of a second that she lets her guard down and suddenly the Angel is climbing out of the screen.
"Doctor! It's in the room!
"What's happening?" Amy's voice comes quieter and than the Doctor's and River dreads to think how messy it would be if Amy had to watch her die today. Better try not to die then.
"It's coming out of the television," River supplies. "The Angel."
"Don't take your eyes off it. Keep looking. It can't move if you're looking," the Doctor jitters through the door.
"I'm not an idiot, sweetie. I know how these things work," River snaps back. Under her breath, she adds, "I just didn't think I'd have to worry about a bloody recording trying to kill me."
She hears the sonic humming around the door, then a thump she can only assume is out of frustration. "What's wrong. Can you get the door open?"
"It's deadlocked," the Doctor huffs.
"There is no deadlock!"
Amy's curiosity pipes up again—trust her to ask the questions in a situation like this. "How can it be deadlocked if there's no deadlock?"
"I don't know," the Doctor falters, then tries to theorize (and fails spectacularly). "The Angel did a thing, probably. A clever thing that I can't undo right now."
River can picture it so clearly: the Doctor pacing and flapping his hands about while Amy watches him crossed arms. It's not a bad last thought, as far as last thoughts go, but she's not planning on dying at the moment. "Try cutting the power from the outside."
There's a moment of shuffling outside the door, the sound of the sonic again, and then, "No good, it's deadlocked the whole system."
River sighs, trying her best not to blink. "Can you just cut the door open, or something?"
"There is no way in. It's not physically possible," he fumes. She knows it's only because he hates not having results within five minutes of intervention. She makes a mental note to tell him to get used to that. "Can you turn it off?"
"Tried that. Didn't work." Really, did he think she would've called for him if she hadn't already exhausted all other resources?
"Try again," he orders.
River resists the urge to roll her eyes lest the Angel move again. Carefully, she steps over to where she left the remote and picks it up again. Taking a deep breath, she clicks the power off again. The Angel flicks it back on and comes even closer.
River flinches, not daring to try again. "It just keeps switching back on."
"How is it even in there with her?" It's Amy again, though River finds this is a question she'd like the answer to as well. "It's just a recording."
"No, anything that takes the image of an Angel is an Angel," the Doctor corrects.
This catches River's attention. "What did you say?"
"The image of an Angel is an Angel," Amy repeats.
"Where did you hear that?"
"It's in the book you gave us." She hears Amy pause with a thought. "Doctor, what's it going to do to her?"
The Doctor doesn't answer, his voice coming more solemnly than before. "River, you have to get that screen off."
"Really, what gave you that idea?" River quips. She's missing something, she can feel it. The image of an Angel is an Angel
Oh, that's it.
River spares a glance at the time signature, still proudly repeating it's four seconds. She grips the remote in her hand and starts to count the next cycle. One, two, three…
On the fourth second, she turns the screen off again.
The holographic Angel before her glitches and greys out then fades completely into nothing. A black screen is the only thing staring at her now as the door unlocks and Amy and the Doctor rush in.
He's all work, brushing past her with the sonic in one hand and book in the other. He tucks the book under his arm and grabs the lead cable from the outlet. It actually comes out of its socket this time and he quickly sonics it. "You got it?"
"There was a blip in the tape and I froze it on the blip," River says as schooled as she can manage.
"That was good!" Amy is next to her and looking quite impressed. "Really, that was amazing!"
"Amy, hug River," the Doctor instructs. His nose is already back in that book.
"Why?" Amy asks.
"Because she's not dead and I'm busy."
"I'm pretty good at not being dead," River mutters, missing the way the Doctor flinches at her words.
The hug is a little awkward, but River finds herself appreciating all the more.
"So it was here? That was the Angel?" Amy asks, letting River out of her arms.
"That was a projection of the Angel," the Doctor answers distractedly. "It's reaching out, getting a good look at us. It's no longer dormant." He looks up from the book and right at River. It's probably the first time he's done so all day without looking right through her.
She stares back at him, waiting for him to say whatever it is he's going to say. He keeps staring wordlessly until she starts to glare. "What?"
"Did you look at its eyes?"
"What?" This time the word is softer and caught off guard. "I couldn't exactly look away, could I. Why?"
He goes quiet again and hands her the book, open to an aged, yellowing page. River hesitantly skims the passage, finding what the Doctor seems so put off about easily.
The eyes are not the windows of the soul. They are the doors. Beware what may enter there.
She tries to ignore the immediate feeling of sand in her eyes.
"We're in the middle of an army. And it's waking up."
River can practically smell the adrenaline rush of the soldiers, though she's slightly more distracted at the fact that Amy is now hovering close to her with the instinct that next to River is the safest place to stand.
She'd be right in most circumstances.
Octavian's frantic tone as he reaches for his comms is still almost as level as his normal tone, which River shouldn't find herself annoyed with but she is a bit. "Bob, Angelo, Christian, come in, please. Any of you, come in."
"It's Bob, sir," a young voice responds; The boy who had gotten so scared a few hours ago that he'd gone and shot one of the statues. If only they'd known how right he'd been. "Sorry, sir."
"Bob, are Angelo and Christian with you?" Octavian presses. "All the statues are active. I repeat, all the statues are active."
"I-I know, sir. Angelo and Christian are dead, sir. The statues killed them, sir."
The Doctor snatches the communicator out of Octavian's hands, somehow oblivious to the silence that settles over everyone else.
No one dares to blink.
"Bob, Sacred Bob, it's me, the Doctor," the Doctor talks fast as Octavian shakes out of his shock.
"I'm talking to—" Octavian frowns.
"Where are you now?"
"I'm talking to my—" The bishop tries again and this time gets a hand in his face.
"Yeah, yep, yeah shut up."
River sets her jaw, wondering if the Doctor knows how stupid he sounds. At least Amy doesn't suffer fools and appropriately rolls her eyes.
"I'm on my way up to you, sir," Bob says. "I'm homing in on your signal."
"Ah, well done, Bob. Scared keeps you fast. Told you, didn't I." The Doctor looked as pleased as a boy who's just taught his dog a new trick. "Your friends, Bob, What did the Angel do to them?"
River waits for the other shoe to drop.
"Snapped their necks, sir."
Octavian and a few other soldiers glace at River. She'd told them how the Angels operated before the mission started. All their information had come from her. This is new to all of them.
"That's odd. That's not how the Angels kill you," the Doctor is pacing now. "They displace you in time... Unless they needed the bodies for something."
In the Doctor's moment of distraction, Octavian tries to get the communicator back. "Bob, did you check their data packs for vital signs? We may be able to initiate a rescue plan—"
"Oh, don't be an idiot," the Doctor huffs, taking back the device like an overly selfish toddler. "The Angels don't leave you alive. Bob, keep running. But tell me, how did you escape?"
"I didn't escape, sir. The Angel killed me, too."
There are a number of exchanged glances at that. Octavian and the Doctor share airspace for the first time in an hour as the realization washes over them. River looks at her not-yet-mother with nothing less than dread.
This is where it goes wrong with the Doctor. He showed off when he was younger. And he is younger. Mix that with too much arrogance and one has an overcompensating Timelord dragging a wonder-struck human to gaze into the eyes of death like it's of the galaxy's greatest tourist attractions.
"We've got to go," she hears Octavian say. The soldiers start shuffling past her. She takes Amy's hand and follows.
River doesn't really have the time to be mournful over Bob. She hadn't known him well, but he was kind to her, at least. It's a rare thing to come by: kindness towards one of the most notorious assassins ever to live.
Regardless of being her sponsors, even the clergymen find it hard to be around her—she can see it in their faces any time they look at her. Not Bob, though, which either meant he hadn't done his homework, or he really didn't see her as so much of a monster.
The pathways are narrow, but the lot of them are fast. The Doctor has somehow gotten ahead of the group, pretending (and probably genuinely thinking) he has the same authority as Octavian.
He will if he gets them out of this.
When, River reminds herself. It has to be a when because Amy isn't even married yet and neither is her husband, come to think of it. They both have so much coming, so much they need to do.
But time can be rewritten.
Time travel is odd like that. Everything seems like it ought to be set in stone and then something like this happens. Something like this always happens where death looks over your shoulder like a contemplating cat and suddenly Time is as heavy as a boulder.
River has to stop running for just that reason. Time pushes on her ears, ringing and fluctuating so dizzyingly that he has to steady herself to keep from rocking.
She grabs a stone rail—some architecture left from the Applans. The others flow past her, pressing forward through the tunnels like their lives depend on it. They probably do, but Time wouldn't get so fussy over these humans. River dreads to think of the real reason Time can't stay still.
Octavian is the last in line and pauses next to her with his torch and gun and hand. "Doctor Song, we have to keep moving."
"I-I know. I'm coming," she breathes, pushing down nausea as best she can.
A figure comes hurrying back down the stone corridor opposite the direction the rest of the men went. Octavian cocks his gun at it until his torch reveals that it's only the Doctor. The Timelord has the communicator clutched in his hand, the direct line the Angel.
"There's a small clearing, the Byzantium is right above it about 30 feet up," the Doctor says, out of breath as he hands the comms back to the bishop.
"Any other exists?" Octavian asks.
"No," he huffs. River suspects he meant to sigh but had a bit of muscular confusion around the bronchi.
"Then we get out through the wreckage." Determination sets in the bishop's tone.
The Doctor looks like he's going to go back when he turns to Octavian. "Sorry I called you an idiot before, but there's no way we could have rescued your men." Whether this is a terrible apology or an attempt at getting the last word in is unclear.
Octavian's expression is as hard as the stone cavern. "I know that, sir. And when you've flown away in your little blue box, I'll explain that to their families. "
River may have taken slight amusement to see the Doctor's arrogance knocked down a peg if it weren't also the exact same moment she tries to move her hand. Her attention is very quickly drawn away from the bickering men.
They don't pay her much notice, staring for a moment dripping with testosterone as fiercely as they can at each other—admittedly, the bishop makes a promising opponent in terms of battle-weary glares.
The Doctor nearly hisses as he speaks into the receiver again. "Angel Bob. Which Angel am I talking to? The one from the ship?"
"Yes, sir." Bob's voice answers promptly and even River doesn't miss the way Octavian shuts his eyes. "And the other Angels are still restoring."
"Ah, so the Angel is not in the wreckage," smugness returns to the Doctor's face. "Thank you."
Octavian tries not to get too huffy about it as the Doctor runs off to rejoin the others. He turns to River. "We have to move."
"Don't wait for me. Go ahead," River swallows. "Go, run."
"I can't let you out of my sight, Doctor Song," he reminds her like he hasn't been breathing down her neck for days.
"I can't move," she says almost in a whisper.
"What are you talking about?"
"Look at it. Look at my hand." She's refusing to meet his eyes, instead focusing on the tunnel behind her where the other Angels are bound to catch up with them. "It's stone."
Octavian looks at the hand in question with an ever-deepening frown. "Doctor Song, your hand is not stone."
"It is, look at it," she growls. "Do you honestly think I'd fuck with you at a time like this?"
"I think these are things down here that can play tricks on… minds." She hears, unspoken, minds like yours.
"Things like Angels?" She doesn't bother hiding the agitation in her tone.
"I'm not sure I understand you, Doctor Song," Octavian says levelly, "But you can move your hand and I'm going to need you to do it now." He steadies the gun and torch in the direction of the dark tunnel behind them.
Exasperatedly, River tries to explain the situation, briefing over the information in the book. The eyes are not the windows, they are the doors.
"And you looked? You looked into the eyes of an Angel?"
"Well it's not like I could look away," she snaps, giving her hand another yank. It stays where it is. "It was coming out of the screen!"
"Listen to me," Octavian whispers and she hopes the desperation in his tone isn't to do with the creatures lurking in the dark. "It's messing with your head. Your hand is not made of stone."
"It is. Look at it," she's getting fed up with him telling her otherwise. "Octavian you have to go."
"It's in your mind, I promise you. You can move your hand. You can let go."
"What part of 'it's made of stone' are you not getting?"
"The Angel is going to come and it's going to turn this light off, and then there's nothing I can do to stop it, so do it. Concentrate. Move your hand. "
It's possible, she contemplates, that he could be right. Maybe her hand isn't stone, but that doesn't change the fact that no matter how hard she pulls, it doesn't budge. "I can't."
"Then we're both going to die."
River tries not to slap him with her good hand. "Don't be an idiot. You're not going to die if you stop trying to be all honorable about it. I'm not worth dying for. I'm really not."
"They'll kill the lights." His voice is still annoyingly level.
"Then bloody well leave!"
The lights flicker and River can't turn far enough around to see, but she's sure that humanoid stone as now the subject of Octavian's aim. "Keep your eyes on it," she reminds. "Don't blink. Just back up slowly and get out of here."
"You see, I'm not going. I'm not leaving you here. The Lord guides me not to."
"Then you will die stupid," she growls and under her breath adds, "and with an arrogant god."
"You can move your hand," he breathes like talking too loud will crumble the walls around them.
"It's stone. I'm sure I've mentioned that a few times."
"It's not stone."
River shuts her eyes against a sigh because if there's any way she refuses to die, it's bickering with a cleric about the material her hand his made of. "Your men are up there waiting for you. If you stay here with me, you'll have as good as killed them."
He pauses. "River Song, you are a brave woman. And... I'm sorry."
"Me too," she whispers.
Why does it have to be Octavian who hears her last breath and not the Doctor? The universe could at least have been courteous enough to give her Him. Though now that she thinks about it, it's probably best that her husband doesn't see her die before he even knows her. That would really make the future a bit awkward. "Now go on. Don't die a hero's death over me. Get out of here"
"Oh, I'm not leaving you," he says, almost as matter-of-factly as the Doctor when he has a clever trick up his sleeve. Before she can protest, he adds, "I'm sorry about this." Octavian's gun clatters to the ground to free up a hand.
There are two things River can say about what happens next.
The first is that Octavian must have learned, after being around her for so many years, that if one wants to lay a hand on River Song without promptly dying of a broken neck, one has to be incredibly fast and clever.
The second is that she's glad it's her non-dominant hand.
Any thoughts after this are null as her mind goes white with pain and a scream she didn't know she could make echoes so far down the Applan maze that she's sure even Angel Bob falters in his tracks.
The next thing she knows is that's there's stone hitting her knees and she's sure for a moment the corridor has collapsed until she realizes she has. Her stone hand is cradled reverently against her chest and proving itself very much flesh by nothing less than bleeding profusely around the knife lodged in it and soaking the fabric of her uniform.
"You… bastard..." she stops because if she does anything but focus on breathing at the moment she'll vomit.
Octavian grabs her arm, hauling her to her feet. "I do apologize, Doctor Song. It was either that or a bullet and I think this with leave less of a scar. Don't pull the knife out, you'll only bleed more."
She knows that. She feels like she should know that but all she can think about is the throbbing pain in her hand radiating down her arm with every double pulse of her now racing hearts.
Pressure in her ears surges up again and the world starts to spin. The Doctor's voice rings in her head, Have we done the Byzantium yet?
He'd asked that of her some months ago in the dim light of a lamp on a street corner. His hands had taken hers, fingers gently ghosting over the scar he'd fully expected to interrupt his exploration of her palms.
Except that he hadn't asked that. And he hadn't looked for the scar on her hand. She remembers him asking… and she remembers him not. The walls shift around her and she nearly loses balance.
This is never a good sign.
Octavian's communicator goes off. It's one the men she's pretty sure who's name starts with an M but can't be bothered with right now. He sounds reasonably frightened. "The statues are advancing along all corridors except yours. And, sir, my torch keeps flickering."
"They all do," Octavian responds to the communicator, his own torch dimming again.
"What was that scream?"
The bishop looks at River without answering his cleric. "Can you walk?"
"I have a feeling I'm not allowed to answer 'no'." River tries to straighten up and if her voices quivers as much as her body does, Octavian doesn't comment.
"Don't worry about it. Doctor Song and I are on our way," he mutters into the communicator. The cleric doesn't have the bravery to question why they had taken so long.
The men part like scared fish when she and Octavian arrive at the clearing. Someone takes River's arm and makes her sit on a rock.
She realizes it's the Doctor who has his hands resting gently on her shoulders as she sits. She looks up at him. His eyes are round and young, but still surprisingly filled with that ancient concern.
"Are you okay?" he asks quietly.
Her hand oozes, the light from the gravity globe gleaming off the blood and the knife. "I've had worse."
She tries not to think about how knowingly he nods at that.
He crouches down with the care of a boy tending to an injured bird. River doesn't bother to figure out whether she finds this patronizing or not, too unfocused to think clearly.
"The Angel then?" He's gotten his hands on a medpack and she's trying to figure out when he did until she realizes Amy is right behind him and had probably handed it to him. He ties a short length of rope around River's arm to slow the bleeding.
"It.. made me think my hand was stone." River's words end in a hiss as the Doctor dabs alcohol soaked gauze around the wound.
"So why does that mean you have a knife in your hand?" Amy pipes up. The gravity globe above them dims for a moment and a few clerics announce more incoming statues. Amy adds, "And why does that keep happening to the lights?
"It's the Angels. They're coming and they're draining the power for themselves," the Doctor answers the second question, "Which means we can't stay here."
His tone is all clever as usual, but his gaze meets River's and even this young she somehow hears what he wanted to say. This might hurt, but it's going to be okay, River.
"Octavian had to stop the hallucination," River answers Amy's first question, not taking her eyes off the Doctor.
"By stabbing you?" Amy's voice rises a few octaves with worry.
"Stone doesn't bleed," the Doctor murmurs, keeping River's gaze. He's reached for a bigger wad of gauze.
River knows what's about to happen and the Doctor waits for her nod before he proceeds. She flinches hard when he pulls the knife out, but she clenches her teeth against any sound that might escape her.
The Doctor hands the bloodsoaked blade to a mildly horrified Amy as he keeps pressure on River's wound. "Give that back to Octavian will you?"
All Amy can do is nod and do as she's told.
The Doctor takes his sonic out and points it at River's hand. She feels the muscle layers start to close as the sonic whirrs it's familiar tune. It stings, of course, but all she can think about is the touch of an older Doctor's fingertips searching for the scar. Have we done the Byzantium yet?
When the Doctor lifts the reddened gauze away from her skin nothing more than a bad cut is left. The Doctor moves to properly wrap it. "Sorry, the sonic can only do so much. It'll leave a scar."
Another memory she didn't have a moment ago surfaces in her mind. Two years ago and he had run into her in the middle of a flea market, her pockets full of stolen goods. He'd taken her hand and started running because the salesman she'd just burgled had a sword with him and unfortunately keen eyes. Wind and angry shouts rushed in their ears and when they turned a corner and stopped for breath, his hand didn't leave hers and his thumb traced over where the scar will be. Have we done the Byzantium yet?
She closes her eyes and hears him so close she swears he's right by her ear. "Can you feel it too?"
Her eyes dart open and he's sat back on his heels, just as he'd been before with no evidence that he'd been so close at all. River opens her mouth to say something when Amy trots back over with Octavian.
"The statues are advancing on all sides," the bishop announces. "We don't have the climbing equipment to reach the Byzantium."
"Er, so basically we're sitting ducks?" Amy fretts.
There's always a way out, River thinks.
"There's always a way out," the Doctor announces with gravitas.
"No pressure," River finally finds her voice and it's the loudest she's spoken since she screamed. "But this is usually when you have a really good idea, Doctor."
It's at that moment that the communicator goes off and Bob's voice fills the temporary silence. "Doctor? Can I speak to the Doctor, please?"
The Doctor jumps to his feet and takes the comms from Octavian. "Hello, Angels. What's your problem?" There he goes again trying to be clever, but River swears there's some anger in his tone this time. Was he angry at them for hurting her?
"Your power will not last much longer, and the Angels will be with you shortly. Sorry, sir," the boyish threat ends with an apology.
Even River will admit it's hard to fully take an Angel so seriously when it talks with the voice of a boy. It will take the Doctor a few more years to realize that he has the same effect with his infantile face.
River figures, as the Angel speaks strategically again, that it knows exactly how it sounds. "You told me my fear would keep me alive, but I died afraid, in pain and alone. You made me trust you, and when it mattered, you let me down."
"What are they doing?" Amy whispers to River.
"They're trying to make him angry," she breathes.
Angel Bob continues with a voice that died too young, "I'm sorry, sir. The Angels were very keen for you to know that, sir."
"Well then, the Angels have made their second mistake," the Doctor squares his shoulders at the communicator.
River gets to her feet as she watches the tension rise in his thin frame. He growls something of a threat back at the creature and she knows exactly what the anger of a good man can do, who it can kill, the worlds it can burn.
It's all she can do not to intervene. She would have if he wasn't so young. She doubts he'd listen to her if she tried. No amount of 'I know what you're like when your angry' can possibly be effective when he can counter with 'And just how do you know that?'.
He doesn't trust her yet. She's starting to doubt if she should trust him so young.
"Trust me?" The Doctor's question takes her moment to register as outside her head but luckily Amy replies first with a 'yes'.
"Trust me?" He repeats the question, looking right at River. She wonders if her bio-dampers are working properly to keep him out of her mind.
Maybe it isn't strictly true for everything. She doesn't trust him to pick a proper outfit or to cook anything involving more than a tablespoon of oil. She can't, at this point, trust him to not peak if she leaves her diary somewhere and she's not at all certain he can handle a conversation remotely relating to her personal life.
But this, this isn't domestic or diplomatic or even analytical. It's dogmatic and lethal at the same time, which is exactly the moment in any scenario that the Doctor does what the Doctor always does (on a good day at least). He saves people.
"Always."