Insomnia fic again, read and enjoy.
My mother was always a shadow in my childhood, a lady in white standing in the corners of my memories.
On the morning of the 2nd May 5022 my mother left to join an archaeology expedition. They flew to a planet called The Library. The biggest library in the universe, the journey took for days. On the 6th May 5022 five people died. A young woman whose name was Miss Evangelista, the pilot "Proper" Dave, "Other" Dave, a woman named Anita and Professor River Song, my mother. I was six years old.
I can still remember the morning my mother left with her expedition bag packed. She kissed my cheek goodbye and told me "Look after daddy, I love you sweetie" after she was gone dad held me and cried. He explained that mummy wasn't coming back. That was ten years ago.
My memories of my mother are fuzzy. Her brushing my hair smiling, her fixing the TARDIS playfully arguing my dad and playing with me on the floor. I no longer remember her voice, old gallifreyan songs she would sing are now sung in my own voice in my memories. My father took over the singing duties and sang the same songs to me, songs about birds longing for freedom and meadows made of stars but they never sounded the same, even though I have forgotten their original sound.
As I grew older I asked more questions about my mother, who she was and why she didn't come home. I was told my mother had died saving 4022 and my father. I was very proud of her but I wanted her to come home. Those 4022 didn't matter, not to me. 4022 people weren't worth my mummy, she was more important. To a little girl growing up, a mother is the most important person in her world.
In my early teens after learning more details about her death, I drew the conclusion that my mother's death was not a sacrifice but a suicide. She took her own life no matter how many people said she gave her life to save others. She wired herself up knowing she would die. That disturbed me, what woman with a young child at home would knowingly kill herself, abandoning a child who needs her.
I needed a mother growing up as hard as my father tried, without mother he was gruff and lonely. Bringing up a girl was not what he expected or had an aptitude for. He did his best, allowing me to sleep in his bed when I couldn't sleep, telling me stories and loving me. He took me to the furthest reaches of the universe. He could give me the universe but couldn't give me my mummy.
Most people graduate from mummy to mum; it's a rite of passage. It comes with age, mummy shortens and you grow taller.
Professor River Song, celebrated archaeologist and my mummy died and life hasn't moved on for 10 years.
Please review, please *gets down on knees* please review.