A/N: My first multi-chapter Doctor Who story, YEA! This story happened while I listened to Ludo's fabulous rock opera Broken Bride. I suggest that you listen to it while reading to heighten the experience; it's amazing.
Disclamer: Moffat has the characters; Ludo takes a majority of the plot.
Part One: Broken Bride
Year: 2004
Dr. John Smith was silently sitting outside his house under a tree. "Well, it took me fifteen years, but I finally did it. For awhile there I didn't think I was going to make it, but I did. I'm sure you would be proud of me." He looked over to his right at the head stone, weathered with age. "All of the planning, the rough drafts and blue prints. It's all coming together now."
John picked himself off the ground and patted the dust and dirt off of his trousers. "I'm coming, my love, just wait." He leaned down and gripped the top of it, and he took a deep breath before letting go.
He strode away, the wind whipping his jacket as he left. He opened the door to his garage and disappeared. There was a whirring sound and a flash of blue from under the door. The message on the headstone under the tree disappeared.
-o-O-o-
Year:?
John had thrown off his tweed once the machine had begun to malfunction. He dashed about madly as it groaned. Springs and bolts came loose and ricocheted around the console room. John dodged a...thing, he honestly couldn't remember what it was or where it went, that nearly took out his eye. "Come on, old girl, you can make it," John encouraged the machine. The center console began to leak shimmery blue and gold light and John held tighter on to the controls. He pulled a huge lever and the machine creaked and whined as it slowed down. It stopped with a crash and John was jostled one last time. He grabbed his tweed off of the floor, brushed the rubble off and headed for the door. The light was leaking out around his legs and followed him as he opened the door. There was a blinding flash and John was thrust forward out on to the ground. He tasted the iron bitterness of his blood and heard a sickening shriek from above before going unconscious.
-o-O-o-
Year: 1989
The ringing phone broke the silence that had enveloped John as he read the morning paper. He brushed toast crumbs off his fingers and picked up the phone cutting it off mid ring. "Hello."
"Is this Dr. Smith," asked an official sounding voice.
"Yes, and who is this," he asked as he ran a hand through his floppy hair.
"I'm Sheriff Boyle, we have a unit responding to a car accident just a mile east of your home. They ran the tags through the records and you were listed as the owner."
John's breath caught. "Is she alright?"
"I'm sorry, sir, the woman found in the driver seat had already passed away."
He dropped the phone, leaving it hanging off the wall by the cord.
He ran through the house and stormed out the door. He sprinted, barefoot, down the road towards the wreck.
He saw the smoke first.
It came up in thin streams, grey conforming with the hazy grey sky. Farther up the heavier, black smoke was dispersing into the late morning horizon. As he came closer he saw the official tape marking out the scene and orange cones to deter oncoming traffic. The lights on the squad car were still flashing, the sirens already turned off. The staticky radios and beeping brought John back to the scene at hand.
He ducked under the tape and he felt a pair of arms wrap around him. "Sir, this is a restricted area. You can't go through."
John struggled out of his grasp. "That's my wife!"
The officer let him go and he approached the car. As John got closer to the car, he became more nervous. The moment he caught a glimpse of her curly hair he felt like motor oil was searing his throat close. Her body was slumped over the steering wheel's air bag, her arms out to her sides. River's hair sparkled with bits of the windshield glass strewn in it. Two medics came over and John stepped aside as they pulled her out of the car and sat her down in the body bag laid out on the ground.
He turned away, not bearing to watch. It began to drizzle as he walked away, tears down his face, and he let go of his anguished cries.
-o-O-o-
Year: 148 million BC
John woke up on unfamiliar ground in an unfamiliar place. He slowly got to his feet and he placed a hand on his aching head. He heard the screeching pterodactyl above him and he ran to the nearest place for shelter. Inside the cave, he sat down and leaned his head against the cool wall. Water lapped up by his feet from an in cave pool. He picked up a stick and wrote River's name in the soft mud. He put his head between his knees as he listened to the pterodactyl screech outside. As he waited for it to leave, the water came up and slowly washed away her name. John sighed, disappointed with the outcome, and wished he had made it to that morning in May.
A/N: The end of Part I. I'll try and update this story between seasons of one of my other stories, but I'll attempt to update whenever I can. Don't forget to follow, favorite and review; I love knowing what you think!
