The Manor – Part 1
He had just dropped Amy and Rory and Melody off at an Earth resort. They had all been through a lot. And he wasn't sure what was going to happen, but he knew that they were exhausted, and needed a little R&R. So he took them someplace from the 21st century, from their time – someplace normal enough where they could recuperate and focus on being a family. They didn't need him interfering with that just at that moment. He was part of their family, in more ways than one. But they needed each other. And he had other things to accomplish. River related things.
She had sent him a message on the psychic paper. When he first received it something twinged within him, a sliver of pain, knowing that the last time she messaged him with the psychic paper things had gone drastically wrong. He didn't want to thing about it though. The message on the paper read:
It's over Sweetie. Meet me at the Manor.
A pair of coordinates followed, which he entered into the console immediately and within a few moments the TARDIS materialized exactly where she had said. He rushed to the door and pulled it open. It creaked as he did so. Stepping out, he looked around the terrace which he appeared to have landed on.
It was beautiful, it really was. A large stone manor rose up before him, with a large, stone terrace, which looked out over a massive lawn of grass accompanied by landscaping and trees, and a forest in the distance of dark green pines. It was dusk, and one end of the sky glowed a dark blue, nearly the same color of the TARDIS. He knew that it would be soon. The opposite end of the sky was lit with the brilliant gold of the sunset, with pinks and purples fleshed out across the clouds that blended with the forest.
And there she stood, standing at the edge of the terrace, looking out into the sunset, with her hands resting on the railing. He knew she had to have heard him. The TARDIS made enough noise. But she stood, not turning to look. He walked up to the railing, slowly, anticipating that she would turn at any second to look at him, or flirt, or call him 'sweetie' but she did none. She simply stood. Staring at the sunset.
He walked up to the railing and stood beside her, placing his hands on it next to hers. The little finger of his left hand nearly touched the little finger of hers, but it was slightly too far away. The sleeve of his jacked brushed against her bare arm. She was dressed in the same clothes as she was back at Demon's Run. Must not have been too long for her then.
The Doctor looked out at the sunset. It was enchanting. Rather like River. He didn't want to be enchanted by it, but then he couldn't help himself, and then after he was he found that he really didn't mind so much.
"If you look too long into the sunset it makes your eyes hurt," River spoke, breaking the comfortable silence between them, "but the beauty of the sunset compared to the pain in your eyes overwhelms you, and no matter how much you know it would be better to look away, it's like you can't. Enthralling, isn't it."
The Doctor looked from the sunset to River's face, glowing in the golden light. He moved and covered her hand with his own, his fingers resting on the stone of the low railing in the spaces between hers.
"I know the feeling," he said softly. She still didn't look away, and he stared at the pinks and purples reflected in her eyes.
"So how long has it been, for you?" she asked him.
"I just dropped Amy, Rory, and little you back off at that resort. You all needed a little R&R away from the whole Time and Space thing… it seemed like you were having a good time when I left," he said. A smile grew on River's face.
"Ah yes. I remember it well," she said. "Got boring after a while. I started craving your return."
"Craving?" he questioned, the corner of his mouth upturned in an amused smirk.
"Quite," she replied, finally tearing her gaze away from the sunset which was now fading to his face. He turned slightly to face her. It wasn't just a careless glance she was giving him. She was giving him a steady, meaningful gaze, staring into his eyes like she knew every part of him. And maybe she did. All he knew was that he couldn't look away. He couldn't squirm, though her look made him want to. She didn't look scared, and she didn't look bold. She simply looked like she was captured by him. Or maybe it was the other way around. Like he was captured by her. It wasn't a bad feeling though, being watched by her.
"Have you just left Demon's Run?" he asked her.
"Yes," she said, with a heavy sigh, her eyes falling to someplace in the middle of his chest rather than meeting his eyes.
"Ah," he said, looking away.
There was another long, meaningful silence, and then River spoke. Her voice was watery, filled with a heavy grief and guilt that made him ache as she said it.
"I'm sorry," she choked out.
"I completely forgive you," he said, and they turned to face each other. River looked up at him, two tears streaking down her cheeks.
"You can't. How can you?" she said, "What I did was unpardonable, you know as well as I."
The Doctor watched her face, waiting for more tears to fall, for her to reach out for him, to fall sobbing onto his chest and to comfort her, to stroke her hair and murmur words of quiet forgiveness and hope to her, but it didn't happen. It didn't need to. Something in her eyes told him at that singular moment, she was above all of that.
He wanted to reach out. He wanted to hold her. He wanted her to need him. He wanted to feel needed by somebody else. He needed it. But there was something holding them both back, so he simply reached for her other hand instead. As they turned to face each other completely, he entangled his fingers with hers.
"I can forgive you River Song because you're like a wildlife documentary."
Confusion etched across River's features.
"Excuse me?"
"You're like an animal in a wildlife documentary. Like a hunting animal that kills another smaller animal for food, and the small animal cries out, fear in every whimper, yet the hunter devours it anyway. It carries the rest of the meat back to the pack. The animal it killed had offspring, which perhaps it was trying to feed. But it got caught. There wasn't enough time. It whimpers in fear and feels pain as it dies, but it knows that in the end, it was always its fate. Life will take care of it's young, and whether they live or die is irrelevant. Because the hunter aches. The hunter feels the sharp pangs of hunger stab it's stomach, and feels the yearning to find food for its starving young which have nothing to eat and are dying. It kills because it has to. It kills because it's scared too. It kills because when it brings home that animal that died and feeds it to its young, the instinctual care which the animal feels for them far outweighs the guilt that it felt over killing the animal. Because it protects that which is most valuable to it. It protects the life of that which it loves. Through death, life continues. And so I forgive you. Because I know why you did it. I know why you had to. The only problem is that I'm both the animal that dies, and the animal that lives. It's never-ending circle that doesn't stop."
By the time he had finished speaking River was crying silently. He knew that it was because she just couldn't stop. People who cry silently never can. Her resolve to stay above petty tears had broken, and her strength against his waiting embrace was breaking. He looked at her, no accusation in his eyes. Only questions. Many questions. But he trusted her. In the same way that she trusted him. It hurt, but they always would. Always.
"Am I right?" he asked her, taking his hands from hers instead cupping her cheeks, brushing away the tears with his thumbs. "Is that why you did it? You had to? You couldn't stop?"
River nodded, and taking a step forward, he put his arm lightly around her back and pulled her close until they were pressed lightly up against each other. He was being supportive, seeing as it looked like her legs were about to give out at any moment.
"It's alright," he whispered. "It's alright."
And for that moment, it was. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers. River's eyes fluttered shut and for a few seconds neither of them could breathe. Oddly enough it seemed to give both of them a sense of calm. Rather than pull the other closer though, they let go. The Doctor stepped away from River, opened his eyes, and simply reached for her hand. And that was it. Nothing complicated.
"I'm glad you're here," River said, brushing her thumb against his hand. He gave her a genuine smile that lit up his eyes.
"Me too," he said, and looked toward the Manor. "So this is it? This is the Manor?"
"Yes," River replied, with a smile mirroring his. "And it's ours."
"Ours?" he repeated, "as in – we own it?"
"No," she said, "we don't own it. We never have. Nobody owns it. It just is. You'll see once we get inside, and I show you."
"How can it be ours then?" he asked, furrowing his brow.
"Remember this Doctor, from now until your final meeting with me," she said. At these words, the Doctor paid attention. "This place is the Manor. And no matter when we are, we can always come here. We will be safe. This is like… it's like the resort you left my parents at. It's for R&R. But more than just that. It exists as a meeting place… but it also exists in multiple places at once."
"Ok, so it's a house of safety then. Like an oasis in the desert?" he asked.
"Yes," she smiled, "but better than that. Come and I'll show you."
She led him by the hand to the back door, and into the Manor. The lights were already on.
"How long were you here before I got here, River?" he asked, as they entered.
"I've been here for twelve hours. Slept for eight of those hours. The others I spent cleaning up the place and preparing."
"Preparing for what?" he asked, and looked around. They had stepped into some sort of eating area, with a spacious kitchen adjoining. There were hardwood floors and marble countertops with lovely stained cabinets. And across the way it opened into a giant living space was a massively vaulted ceiling, a long, tall staircase leading to a balcony on the level above. Sofas and comfy chairs and coffee tables sat in the living area, and it all looked rather inviting.
"Preparing for you," River replied. He grinned a smug grin and she gently smacked his arm while he laughed.
"Nice inside," he commented, on the general appearance as they walked toward the stairs.
"Thank you," River replied, "I picked the décor out myself."
"Well you have lovely taste," he said.
"I know," she replied.
They started climbing the stairs, River leading.
"Where are you taking me?" he asked her, feeling very much like a schoolboy being led up the stairs of a museum.
"You'll see my love," she said, and his chest swelled as she called him her love, but he didn't let on.
She took them down a long hallway. If he didn't know better he would think he was on another TARDIS, because the hallways were so long. Finally, when they had reached the end, River pointed to the door at the end of the hall.
"Linen closet," she said, pointing at it, then pointed to the door to the right, "Observatory," she said, and then pointed to the door opposite on the left. "Bedroom," she said. He looked at her, an expectant gleam in his eyes.
She opened the door to the observatory and they went in. It was a beautiful room, the entire ceiling and part of two walls replaced with curving glass. A long telescope sat up in the middle of the room, pointing towards the sky, and chairs were clustered around a table. Further down the long room there was a couch with informal bean bags around it. One large one sat in the center, with a perfect view of the lawn which led to the forest and of the scenery beyond, which slept beneath a deep blue sky lit by millions of tiny, white stars.
The Doctor grinned and, letting go of River's hand, made a beeline for the beanbag, throwing himself down on it. River smiled an affectionate smile and joined him, though instead of throwing herself onto it with a flying leap, she simply walked over and sat down onto it, settling herself at his side. He sighed happily, and smiled, his gaze flickering back and for between River's face and the gorgeous view of the stars.
"This is amazing River," he said, "I love it. Why didn't you tell me about this place before?" he asked.
"You always knew about it before," she said, not sadly, but when she looked up at him he could see the familiar sheen of bittersweet nostalgia creeping into her eyes.
"Ah," he said. "Well. I'm glad I did. It's so… I don't know. I can't put my finger on the word."
"Secluded?" River suggested.
"Well yeah. That. But it's… well I guess it's magical."
"It is," River replied, with conviction. The Doctor looked at her with a soft smile for a moment, and then looked around at everything else. He spotted a label sewn into the giant beanbag.
"River? Why does the beanbag say "Love Sac" on it?"
River laughed,
"That's the brand name, sweetie. Meant to encourage…. Oh I don't know - closeness, or something."
"Closeness? Between people?" he asked.
"I suppose," she replied.
He didn't say anything for a few seconds. Then,
"Well I like closeness," he said, turning to look directly at River. She looked up, directly back at him, and he was at a loss as to what to do. Their faces were awfully close. Impulses. Impulses running wild. River's hand was resting on his ribcage, and his arm was around her, and he was frozen. He didn't know what to do. He looked at her eyes and found himself slowly drowning, and his breath started coming out in short shaky breaths. River seemed to sense his hesitance in the moment and did nothing at all except wait.
The rational part of his brain telling him to think things through was shutting off, and the only thought that kept running through his head was, "We're alone. Completely alone. Oh Rassilon we're alone." He looked from her eyes down to her lips, indecision flickering in his eyes before he leaned down and forward, hovering a mere fraction away. He drew in a shaky breath and let it out as she did the same, and slowly leaned forward, just brushing her lips a tiny bit for a moment with his own, then pulling back a few centimeters. Both were silent. He was deadly nervous. He then leaned forward again, this time, less hesitant, pressing his lips to hers in a soft, gentle kiss. River knew better than to break the moment. And moments like this were far and few between this early on for him. He kissed her, and they both sighed together, sinking into each other's arms and wrapping close around each other, and into each other's kiss. After a few blissful moments, the Doctor pulled back and rested his forehead against hers, his arms now around her, their noses touching.
"I like closeness too," she whispered, and he smiled.
"I'm not… I'm not horrible then?" he said, uncertainly.
"No. No definitely not," River said, a smile in her voice.
"Kiss me again?" he asked, very quietly, and very timidly, but it was exactly what River wanted to hear.
"Gladly," she murmured as she kissed him and he kissed her and they shared a closeness that was a rarity.
They didn't have to talk. They could have. But they didn't. They let their looks and their embraces and their deep kisses and their silent promises speak louder than words. A quiet understanding bloomed between them.
"In the morning," River said, a long while later, when they were covered by a giant comforter and snuggled with one another, "I will show you the rest of the manor, and what makes it so special," she said.
"I know what makes it special," the Doctor said, as he stroked her hair with her head resting over one of his hearts.
"Me too," River said.
"It's us."
River smiled. There was more to it than that. But more or less… he was right. She kissed her husband again and they held one another long into the night.