Author's Note: So this was my entry for the Doctor/River fluff ficathon on tumblr, written for queenriversong. My prompt was 'sine qua non- something absolutely indispensable or essential [literally: without which not]. post-TATM.' My hope is that it might bring a smile to your face in light of the sad news regarding Matt Smith's departure from Doctor Who in the 2013 Christmas Special(I've been crying so much about this). All I have to say is, I love Matt and his Doctor; he's what turned me onto this show in the first place, and I've enjoyed writing for 11 and will probably continue to do so even after he regenerates. 11 is always and forever my Doctor. 3
After stepping out of the blue box, the man in the bowtie tip-toed into the furnished living area.
His right hand shook slightly as it grasped a tiny package draped in a scarlet ribbon, while his left fingers tapped rhythmic patterns into the side of his leg in an effort to calm himself.
A shy smile formed across his face, reaching all the way up to his eyes, which lit up with a youthful exuberance.
And yet, his hearts pounded loudly, their steady crescendo being the only sound that filled his ears.
Biting his lip, the Doctor mentally cursed himself for acting so ridiculous, the copper tang of blood fresh on his tongue even as he did so.
Stop being a bloody idiot! She'll be fine. I'm sure she'll be happy to see you. And if she isn't well…you'll change her mind. You seem to be quite adept to that…that is, if being adept involves getting slapped and yelled at for God knows what…ugh…forget the being adept thing…just…just…don't worry about it and make everything up as you go along…it tends to work with plans…so why not with the wife?
His jumbled thoughts came to a halt when he turned the corner to the room that he knew to be River's office. For a second, he remained fixed in place, paranoia setting in again.
Still clinging to the tiny gift in one hand, the Doctor used the other to rummage through his bigger-on-the-inside pockets, hoping desperately to find the object he was looking for.
"No…no…definitely no…What? Where'd that come from…I don't remember ever seeing that before…but that's beside the point…ugh…I can't find it anywhere…really…you'd think I'd have a handy mirror in here somewhere…" sighing resignedly, the man in the bowtie shrugged his shoulders, deciding he'd have to cope without the mirror.
With a little puff of air, he warmed his palm and quickly slicked his hair back, before straightening his black bow tie as suavely as ever.
Well, here goes nothing…
The Doctor reckoned, entering his wife's office and immediately beginning to speak his thoughts aloud.
"Hi, Honey, I'm home." He declared smugly, and then continued, "Just wait 'til you see where I'm taking you for our anniver—"
Stopping abruptly, the man in the bowtie suddenly registered the fact that his wife remained unmoving and unresponsive.
A momentary fear swept his body, and the small present fell from his hand as he went straight to River.
"R-River…are you alright?" his voice sounded a bit weak as he began to mentally assess her condition.
Hearing her quiet breathing sent a wave of calm through his hearts, and in a mere moment he felt completely at ease, having realized that his wife was only sleeping. Her delicate curls cascaded downwards and her eyelids fluttered ever so slightly, as she remained entrenched in a deep sleep. Despite seeing the dark circles of fatigue under her eyes, her husband thought she looked absolutely beautiful.
Stroking her cheek fondly, the Doctor bent down, pressing a light kiss to her forehead.
He took a moment to step back, registering his wife's tensed position and obvious exhaustion.
Piles and piles of papers lay scattered in front of her, the majority of them hardly touched, going by her note to herself, 'Left to grade.'
An old typewriter sat nearby too, its top flooded with pages of a manuscript the Doctor recognized almost immediately.
He stiffened, sucking in a breath, his recent wounds still raw and bleeding.
The words, 'Melody Malone,' caught his attention, and he briefly stared at the stack of typed papers, his mind dawning with the realization that River had nearly completed the book since he'd last seen her.
Averting his gaze from the pain-invoking mental image, the Doctor turned his attention back to the sleeping woman. River Song. His wife.
It was then that he felt the absence of the package in his hand and realized it must have slipped out of his grasp on the way in.
"Ah, well, I suppose we can wait on that…Looks like River could use some sleep…" He glanced down at his wife, mentally dispensing his previous agenda and catering towards her needs.
Placing his arms around River's body, her husband lifted her up, cradling her close to his hearts, savoring the sensation of her curls tickling his chest.
As he'd suspected, River was surprisingly lightweight, her delicate form feeling almost ethereal.
He carried his wife a short distance before elbowing the TARDIS doors open. The Old Girl hummed in response, and the Doctor simply nodded, trying to ignore the pain that crept inside as he entered the whimsically-colored control room, which now seemed so empty—so incredibly empty that he could hardly bear it anymore, if not for River he would most certainly have changed it already.
Not wanting to dwell on those depressing thoughts any further, the man in the bow tie re-directed his focus to his destination, being careful to turn the correct corridor and not lose himself in the TARDIS' elaborate labyrinth of rooms.
Within minutes, the outline of the familiar blue door came into vision, and the Doctor entered slowly, his wife still firmly in his grasp.
He pondered whether or not to dress her in a nightgown, but decided against it, reasoning that that would run the risk of waking her up.
Best not disturb her. Her husband knew better than anyone else that a grouchy River was never particularly fun to deal with.
Placing River on the ordinate bed, her husband carefully slid the crimson red heels off her feet, allowing them to fall the floor below.
His hand slipped around her waist as he moved her into a more comfortable position. The Doctor let her head rest on the soft pillow, covering her lower-body with a warm blanket.
Smoothing a dangling curl from her face, the man in the bow tie bent down to kiss the corner of his wife's mouth, admiring her pretty features before speaking just above a whisper,
"Goodnight, my love."
Groaning, the curly-haired woman shifted uncomfortably, her green-tinged eyes creeping open.
She squinted, trying to regain her surroundings as her vision blurred, the amorphous globs of color eventually becoming recognizable shapes.
Out of instinct, River quickly turned her head, searching for the digital clock that normally rested on the bedside table. Her body jerked when she saw a vase of flowers instead.
Pressing her hand to her forehead, the Doctor's wife battled the confusion that brewed in her mind.
God, I must be really out of it…I…I don't even know…where I am…
Her gaze shifted around the room and suddenly the dark, mahogany walls came alive and she could pinpoint exactly where she was.
Their bedroom.
On the TARDIS.
Glancing back at the adjacent bouquet of carnations, River now caught a glimpse of the tiny white note hidden among the light blue petals.
'For my beautiful wife, on our anniversary,' she read, heart throbbing at the sight of her husband's unmistakable handwriting.
It had been weeks she'd last seen him; and she feared that she hadn't left on the best terms either. Her internal scars from Manhattan were still blazing, and the Doctor had been in worse condition. After a while, he'd bottled it up inside, just as afraid as she was to acknowledge the extent of the pain that ravaged them both.
She could practically see the tears brimming in his eyes when she'd finally decided to leave him for a bit, to return to the life she couldn't keep fleeing from, promising to check up on him soon.
Blocking her husband's mournful face from her mind, River zipped her eyes shut.
The sight of all those papers from the night before came crashing into her thoughts like a maelstrom, and she jerked out of bed immediately, remembering that she had so much work left to do.
In moments she found herself in the TARDIS console room, the bright oranges and yellows floating around her and feeling almost surreal.
"Sweetie?" she called, briefly wondering where her husband might be.
Ah, well…in this place…I suppose he could be anywhere… River mused to herself, slowly moving toward the TARDIS doors.
Sucking in a breath, she exited the blue box; hand pressed against her forehead wearily as she prepared herself for the stressful work she had yet to complete; there was so much grading to be done, loads and loads, and now was certainly not the time to be sorting out her relationship with her husb—
One glance around her flat sent her heart racing, halting any previous thoughts that had swirled through her mind.
Her jaw dropped and her hand rose to her mouth in shock as she examined the pristinely cleaned room.
The often scattered books had been carefully placed on the shelf, the papers previously piled upon the edges of the furniture seemingly gone.
For a moment, her limbs remained frozen, locked tight; she didn't move, didn't speak.
He didn't. No…he couldn't have. All that work, it would have taken me hours…I…I…can't…believe he'd actually…
Head spinning, River tried to regain focus and fumbled over to her office, eyes drawn straight to the man lounging in her desk chair.
It took him a second to realize that he no longer by his lonesome.
"Oh, Good Morning, Dear! Sorry about the surprise visit…I was hoping to get you some breakfast in bed …I suppose I got a bit carried away." Her husband peered at her from beneath her mother's reading glasses, his facial expression joy-filled with a hint of underlying nervousness.
But River didn't respond, absolutely transfixed on the sight before her.
"R-River?" Her husband muttered, sounding concerned.
Inhaling and exhaling slowly, the curly haired woman calmed herself.
And yet her gaze rested on the neatly arranged piles of now-graded papers, a sight that she hadn't expected to see for at least a day or so.
"Oh, I see. You must be wondering about the papers. I know you would've gotten to grading them eventually, but I decided to save you the trouble. And don't worry; I even used your notes as a guide…although to be fair some of the information was outlandishly inaccurate. Well, I suppose that's archaeology for you. I mean, come on, River, you saw firsthand what really happened at the Androvax Conflict…River?" he paused, shoulders slouching as he watched his wife's resolve crumble.
She let out a shaky breath and her body trembled as a single tear streamed out of one eye.
Without a second thought, the Doctor went to her, cupping her face his hands.
"River…wh-what is it? If this is about the archaeology insult or me grading your papers and coming into your flat uninvited—I…I'm sorry…it's just that it's our anniversary and I really wanted to do something special, but you were asleep, so I decided that it might be nice for me to help you out because you seemed stressed and tired and I know it isn't much, but considering how we left it after Manhattan, I wanted to make it up to you—"
But the Doctor was cut off, distracted and momentarily surprised as his wife grabbed his face and pulled him into a deep and passionate kiss, lips dancing over his in one tender and swift motion, salty droplets cascading from her eyes.
When River drew back, her husband scratched his cheek, clearly confused.
"What—but you were crying; why kiss me—not that I'm complaining."
"Oh, you oblivious idiot…haven't you ever heard of happy tears?" her thumbs stroked his cheekbones like butterflies fluttering atop his skin.
"Oh. OH." His eyes lit up in realization, and out of habit, he reached down to straighten his bowtie, puffing out his chest a bit. "Well, then. Happy anniversary, Honey. Hmmm…that reminds me, I was planning on taking you somewhere rather spectacular and I brought a gift for you…I think I must have dropped it back—"
His wife's slender finger pressed against his lips, shushing him almost immediately. The Doctor's eyes widened.
"It can wait, Sweetie. I think I have exactly what I want right here." Before he could ask what she meant by that, River began kissing him again, her mouth shifting atop his in a way that made his toes curl and insides melt.
And she clung to him, savoring this intimate moment, treasuring the Doctor's simple expression of love, enjoying the feel of his soft lips as he deepened the embrace, relishing the chance to just hold fast to the last bit of family she had left, the Doctor, her husband, the man who kept running, but always, always returned to her, the man she'd given her heart to long ago, and who, she knew, even now, would forever hold it in the palm of his hands for the rest of her life, whatever that might bring.
Note: I hope you enjoyed it. Let's all stick together during this sad time, and remember that Matt still has two episodes left-his tenure isn't quite over yet!
If you feel up to it, please take this time to leave a review.