So! This took me a sufficiently long time to write for absolutely no good reason at all-I've been writing it on the side and I'm extremely proud of myself for finishing it. I wanted to try writing something from River's point of view; I don't try doing that enough.
It was past her bedtime, the stars were twinkling, and three-year-old Melody Pond was sitting on her bed and writing to the man who lived in the attic. Not that there was an attic, but he said that he lived up high and so she guessed it was an attic. That's about the highest you could get. He was very nice, and sweet, and he told her stories about how she was going to grow up and be amazing and she'd never be under Madame Kovarian's control again. She didn't believe any of it—Madame was scary, and the eye of hers that wasn't obscured by a metallic eye patch seemed to always be fixed on Melody.
Dear Man-In-The-Attic, she wrote in her Secret Language, the one that made Madame's lip curl, the one with all of the circles that no one else seemed to understand. The Man-In-The-Attic said that it was called Gali-fraiy-en, or something like that, but she couldn't quite remember how to say it right so she called it her Secret Language instead.
She paused, pondering, because her life was boring and simple. Wake up, practice and condition, learn about the lives that the Doctor's malicious meddling wrecked, blah blah blah. There wasn't usually much to write in a letter.
I read a very nice book. That seemed to be all there was to say about her day. What was your day like? she added hastily, so as not to be inconsiderate. It didn't seem nice not to ask about him, even if he was imaginary. Then, to conclude, she scrawled a Love, Melody and placed her letter on her dresser, behind the photo of her lovely Mummy that the Man-In-The-Attic had given her. Then she cuddled into her bed and fell asleep.
When she woke up, she'd gotten a response, the circles drawn in sparkly purple ink. She liked to imagine the pen that might produce such a sparkly ink.
Hello Melody.
I'm glad that you like to read. It's a very useful skill, reading. If you didn't know how to read, then we wouldn't be able to write each other such lovely letters.
Today I went places with my girlfriend. Really, I'm more hers than she is mine, (Melody made a small gagging noise) but I bet you think romance is boring so I won't go on about it too much. We went on a date and held hands and stuff, and I made her laugh and got her ice cream. She's very special. Do you have anyone special?
The rest of the letter didn't really register with Melody after that. The question seemed to stick with her, ringing in her ears for the next week and tugging at her mind, a little weight on her chest that didn't seem to go away.
She wrote to him, still, but then there was the Spaceman when she was six, and her life—her simple, boring, scary life—fell apart after that.
Do you have anyone special?
I don't know.
In an alleyway, Melody stared at her suddenly unfamiliar and remarkably smaller hands. They were paler now, sallower, and she reached up for a strand of her short-ish brown hair to find that it was long and blonde now.
"Hello," she whispered, and she was scared. It wasn't her American-accented voice with a bit of a rough edge to it. No, this regeneration's voice was British, soft, almost cultured.
"Melody?" came a soft voice. She jerked to attention, struggling to her feet. Her clothes didn't seem to fit as well now.
"Who is it?" she called in reply, her voice shaking, her knees trembling. She felt silly. Melody Pond the Amazing Assassin Who Most Likely Would Someday Kill The Doctor, scared of a man in an alleyway? She rolled her eyes at her stupidity.
"It's Anthony, Melody," said the voice, and a man in his mid-twenties came out of the shadows. "I promise I won't hurt you. I've come to take you to your parents."
Melody's mind flickered back to her red-haired Mummy, who had shot her when she was being eaten by the Spaceman. "No," she said, her voice soft and childish. "No, you're wrong. I don't have parents."
"Come on," said Anthony softly, walking forward and lifting her into his arms. "Come on, Melody."
She didn't fight him. He was warm and she was tired and it was nice not having to worry about herself. She'd spent three months on the run, and it was nice to just snuggle into somebody's shoulder and fall fast asleep.
She woke up in a bedroom with dark blue wallpaper. Everything in the bedroom was a different shade of blue. She liked it. Madame had always given her disgustingly pink things. Someone was sitting next to her bed. She turned onto her side to look at the someone.
"Hello, Melody," said a woman softly, her red hair streaked with silver, wearing a sundress and white loafers. "I-"
Melody recognized her. She was older, yes, surprisingly so, but it was still her lovely Mummy, and this time there was love and happiness in her eyes. She flung herself into her mother's arms and cried for a little bit.
Her Mummy cried too. "It's okay," she whispered to Melody through her sobs. "You're okay, it's okay, this is all okay, and you're going to be all right."
At some point a man came in (my daddy, Melody realized with a thrill) and held them both and cried with them. Melody didn't know why, didn't know that they were getting a second chance that they'd never dreamed of having. And when she asked them how they'd got so old so fast, she didn't really get much of an answer, but that was okay. She was getting a childhood, the conditioning and training was fading away (or so she thought) and she was happy. But something always seemed just a little bit off.
Do you have anyone special?
I don't know.
She grew up, into a tall and pretty young woman, and she loved being normal and real and happy. She got engaged to a wonderful man, but she didn't really feel much for him and so she broke it off. She was a bit surprised by how unsurprised her parents were.
Her Daddy—Dad now—got sick, very sick, in 1989. And when he had a feeling he was going to die, he called her up when she was at work (she was a teacher in New York City; she'd never felt the desire to go abroad) and she ran to his bedside.
Actually, she drove, but she ran the two blocks to the hospital.
"Melody," he said softly. "My girl. This is the end, for me, but it's only the beginning for you."
"What d'you mean, Dad?" Melody asked softly, taking his hand in hers. She'd long since forgotten the impossibilities of her childhood, her training and conditioning forgotten as well. She was Melody Williams, she was adopted, she had a mum and a dad and a brother, and she had a nice and normal life.
"I mean that you're going to see me again," her dad whispered. "But not like this."
"What do you mean?" Melody asked again, now a little bit confused. "Dad, what are you talking about?"
"You are going to have a fantastic life, Mels," said Rory weakly. Melody was startled at the nickname; he'd never used it before. "An utterly amazing life."
"Dad," said Melody tenderly, "I already have a fantastic life."
"Oh, Melody," her dad whispered, as if he knew something she didn't. "It only gets better. Find us in Leadworth, when it happens, okay?"
"What?" said Melody.
"Find us in Leadworth, when it happens again," Rory replied weakly. "Remember that. Leadworth." And his eyes closed, and Melody started to cry.
She told her mum about her dad's last words, after the funeral was over and they were sitting at the kitchen table. Anthony had driven back to his home and his wife and kids. Melody still lived at home; she was going to college at NYU and couldn't yet afford a flat, so she commuted.
"Oh," said Amy softly, sadly. "Oh. Listen, Melody, I...I have to tell you something, before it's too late."
"What is it, Mum?" Melody asked with a weak smile, a poor imitation of the glamorous, gorgeous grin she'd sported before her father had passed away. "Don't you dare tell me that you can't afford my tuition anymore, I don't know how I'll stand being away from all of those scrumptious college boys," she joked halfheartedly.
"No—it's—Melody, you're my daughter."
"Really?" Melody gasped, genuine mirth in her eyes. "I hadn't—hadn't guessed—Mum, what's wrong?"
Amy reached across the table and took Melody's hand. "You are my blood daughter," she said softly. "I was born in Leadworth in 1989. This year, actually."
"Mum, what—"
"Listen," said Amy fiercely. "It's true, Melody, it's all true, and I'm getting closer and closer to the day when I'm going to have to let you go. I'm so sorry. I was selfish, I put this off too long."
"But Mum," said Melody gently, "it's impossible. How can you be a baby and—and you at the same time?"
Amy swallowed, and then she said, "The Doctor."
A whirlwind of voices overwhelmed Melody, and memories of her old life came rushing back. Her room, the Man-In-The-Attic, Madame—
Nothing is ever forgotten, Melody Pond, Madame whispered in her ear. Only overlooked. Swept under the rug, if you like. Your training was always there, and it always will be.
Melody raised her hand to her head. "I feel—I feel a bit dizzy—Mum, I-"
Amy squeezed Melody's hand, and then she began to explain. Not so much about the Doctor (in fact, she seemed to mention him as little as possible) but instead about time travel, and things called Weeping Angels, and what would soon be coming for her.
"I'm going to die?" Melody whispered numbly. "Oh my god, Mum—I'm going to die? You have to be wrong, you have to be wrong, I'm me! I'm normal!"
Amy swallowed, and then she whispered, "Melody mine, tell me that what I just said doesn't make sense. Please tell me, because god do I wish I was wrong."
"How, though?" Melody asked softly. "How did you know that I was going to be in that alleyway?"
In answer, Amy pushed a worn-out piece of paper across the table. A short note explaining the situation, signed as Raggedy Man.
Written in sparkly purple ink.
Melody almost gasped, but she suppressed it.
Do you have anyone special?
I don't know.
Her mother died about a year later. Heart attack, according to the doctor who treated her. Melody cried softly.
Then she packed her bags and booked a plane ticket to Leadworth. She was going to have to trust fate and trust her mother. Nothing tied her to her life anymore. Anthony had his own life now, and his silly kid sister had no right to bother him. What had she got to lose?
She arrived in Leadworth in January of 1991. She didn't want to kill herself. She was desperately afraid of dying.
She spent most of her time in the Leadworth library, reading children's books and crying, wishing that the illusion of having a normal life could have lasted just a bit longer. It had been so perfect when it had been relaxation and imperfection.
Do you have anyone special?
No.
In April 1992, she was walking through her alleyway shortcut (which technically she shouldn't have been doing, as it was a small road, but no one really used it anyway) when a car hit her. Then the car drove away—a hit-and-run driver was the end of Melody Williams. She lay there, staring up at the sky, waiting to regenerate, wishing that someone would find her and save her, but she was in horrible agony for thirty minutes.
She cried, softly, but she wasn't too sad, because maybe she'd get to be with her mum and dad. She'd like that.
And then she felt the tingly prickle, and she let the regeneration energy consume her. It was like burning, but she was too tired to care.
A married couple found her—the Zuckers—and adopted her. She was a toddler, again, and it greatly annoyed her. She remembered being smart like a grown-up but she didn't remember most of the things she'd learned.
She had to be careful about doctors' examinations, though; two hearts made her stand out a bit. Thankfully, she didn't get sick that much.
When she was about three she met Amelia Pond. It was a bit odd, meeting one's mother, but Amelia was really nice and funny, and they became close friends extremely quickly. They sometimes played with Rory Williams, but Melody (the Zuckers had seen the name tag sewn into her adult-sized jacket and decided that the name fit her) didn't push it too much. She didn't want Amelia to avoid Rory entirely, and any talk of romance might do just that.
Do you have anyone special?
I did, once, but I didn't realize it then.
When they were seven, Amelia met the Doctor.
"He crash-landed in my back garden, Mels!" she told Mels excitedly. Mels felt a sick bubbly feeling in her stomach. The Doctor was going to be the reason that her mum got stuck in the thirties, and she wasn't supposed to know any of that. Was there a word for that, the things that you aren't supposed to know and really shouldn't find out in advance? She needed a word like that. She opened a box full of things that she'd made.
"Is he hot?" Mels asked, not particularly caring.
"No," Amy replied with an eye roll. "He's funny."
"But how can he travel in time?" Mels asked. This bit she'd never gotten an answer from Future-Amelia about.
"Because he's got a time machine, stupid," said Amy with the my-logic-is-completely-infallible voice that seemed to only be used by seven-year-olds.
"I thought we were playing hide-and-seek," came Rory's voice. Mels didn't look at him; she had to make sure that he didn't notice her rolling her eyes. Honestly. Apparently, her mother was extremely unobservant when she was a child; Rory obviously fancied her. "I've been hiding for ages."
Amy sighed. "Well, we just haven't found you yet."
"O-kay," mumbled Rory. "Hi, Mels."
"Hi, Rory," Mels replied.
She broke the head off of one of Amy's Ken dolls that looked like the Doctor and hid the broken doll in her bedroom. Amy never noticed.
When they were eighteen, Amy and Rory got together. Oh, and Mels started stealing things, but that sort of thing was less important. Her parents were together—now that was a relief. She'd started to worry that she'd never exist at all.
But they seemed to harangue her about her misdemeanors even more now that they were together. Parental instincts, Mels supposed, although she was easily the most mature in the group. By rights she should be in her mid-forties by now, if her life had in any way been normal.
Do you have anyone special?
She didn't even know if she could answer the question anymore. The answer just kept changing.
And then Amy saved Leadworth and the world from aliens. Mels had missed her alarm and completely slept through the entire thing, which she found extremely annoying, but not as annoying as Amy filling her in on every single bloody detail about the Doctor and his blue box and Prisoner Zero (who apparently also existed).
Mels was afraid, then. She was certain that her life would be flipped upside down by this Doctor man, who she had been trained to kill a lifetime ago, no, two lifetimes ago.
A year later, though, when her fear had diminished somewhat (although not completely), she found a tube of lipstick on her dresser, along with a note.
This lipstick is infused with the poison of the Judas Tree. One kiss is lethal to anyone. Use it well.
The note was written in the black, spidery handwriting of Madame Kovarian.
Another year passed. According to Amy, the Doctor had shown up on the night before her wedding, taken her on a lot of adventures, killed Rory, brought him back as plastic, but of course none of it was really his fault Mels, he's really amazing Mels, he came to my wedding too, you should have been there!
She didn't do weddings, especially not her own parents'. That was just too weird for her.
And then Amy came to her house one summer and just sort of cried into her shoulder, wetly, miserably, refusing to tell her why.
"It's the Doctor, isn't it?" whispered Mels, trying ever so hard to control her anger. "What did he do?"
"I—I can't—you wouldn't understand," Amy sobbed.
Try me, Amy, thought Mels wryly. Really, just try me.
She stole a car, on an impulse. She had stopped stealing, she really had, once her criminal record had gotten too high, but she woke up that morning with a sureness that her life was going to fall apart again, and she thought Well, best go out with a bang before stealing a shiny red car and following Rory and Amy into an abandoned cornfield.
And there it was. Anger flamed in the pit of her stomach as she saw three people, a newspaper, and a large blue box. The blue box that had screwed up her life. The blue box that had killed her chances of a normal childhood.
Play it cool, Melody, she thought. Wait to strike.
She applied her poisonous lipstick (she'd stuck it in her pocket when she'd gotten dressed that morning), taking her hands off the wheel and causing the car to veer, hitting the man who could only be the Doctor. But she didn't want to run him over just like that, so instead she slammed on the brakes and got out of the car.
And holy everything sharp and shiny she was stunned. He was wearing a bow tie and his hair was all floppy and he looked normal. Not dark, not evil, no malicious grin, just normal. Ooh, and cute normal too.
"You said he was funny," she commented with a smile, feeling a bit better now. Although she'd never killed anyone before, her old instincts were coming back out again. This was going to be surprisingly easy. "You never said he was hot."
"Mels!" said Rory loudly.
"What are you doing here?" Amy demanded.
"Following you," Mels replied calmly. "What did you think?"
"Er, where did you get the car?" Rory asked.
Dear old Dad, Mels thought. Still slow on the uptake. "It's mine," she replied. Sirens sounded, and she added, "Ish."
"Oh, Mels, not again," groaned Amy.
"You can't keep doing this," Rory reprimanded. "You're going to end up in prison."
"Sorry," came the voice of the Doctor, and Mels felt her stomach do a little flip-flop that had nothing to do with murderous instinct, because oh my gosh his voice was adorable. "Hello. Doctor not following this. Doctor very lost. You never said I was hot?"
"Is that the phone box?" Mels commented, ignoring him. "The bigger on the inside phone box? Oh, time travel. That's just brilliant. Yeah, I've heard a lot about you. I'm their best mate," she added.
"Then why don't I know you?" the Doctor asked. "I danced with everyone at the wedding. The women were all brilliant. The men were a bit shy."
It took all of Mels' effort to bite back a smile at this comment. She hated him. She despised him, she loathed him. "I don't do weddings," she replied, and as the sirens got closer she added, "And that's me, out of time."
She pulled out a gun. It had bullets, but that wasn't the way he was going to die. Amy and Rory shouted something, but she didn't quite hear it. Exhilaration and joy rushed through her. So close, so close.
"I need out of here, now," Mels said simply.
"Anywhere in particular?" the Doctor asked.
"Well, let's see," Mels replied playfully. "You've got a time machine, I've got a gun. What the hell—let's kill Hitler."
The idea had been to kill Hitler, not for Hitler to kill her. Mels found that she wasn't scared this time around, but her not being scared had to do with the fact she was going to get revenge on him as soon as he regenerated. Revenge for her childhood, for the Spaceman, for thirty minutes bleeding to death in an alleyway, for the normal life that she would never have.
"How bad is it?" Amy demanded desperately. "What can we do?"
"Just—keep her conscious," Rory answered, fear in his voice. "Stay with us, Mels."
"Hey, look at me," the Doctor said softly, and Mels was taken off guard by the compassion in his eyes, compassion for her, for someone he'd never met. "Just hold on."
"I used to dream about you," Mels replied weakly. "All those stories Amy used to tell me."
"What stories?" the Doctor whispered, his hands gripping hers tightly. "Tell me what stories. Vampires in Venice, that's a belter."
"When I was little, I was going to marry you," Mels mumbled. Was she? She couldn't remember.
"Good idea, let's get married," the Doctor replied, panic lacing his every word. "You stay alive and I'll marry you, deal? Deal?"
"Shouldn't you ask my parents' permission?" Mels asked, If she was dying, she wanted Rory and Amy to know who she was.
"As soon as you're well, I'll get on the phone," the Doctor responded promptly.
"Might as well do it now," Mels told him faintly, "since they're both right here." There was a sudden silence as Amy and Rory both stared at her incredulously. "Penny in the air," she whispered. Her hands began to glow. "And the penny drops."
"What the hell's going on?" Rory demanded.
"Back! Back! Back!" the Doctor shouted, pulling Amy and Rory to their feet and forcing them back towards Hitler's desk. "Get back!"
"Last time I did this, I ended up a toddler in the middle of New York," Mels said softly as she stood up, remembering, not counting the thirty minutes spent bleeding out. Really, who'd want to remember that?
"Okay, Doctor, explain what is happening, please," Amy demanded weakly, sounding fearful and astonished at the same time.
"Mels," said the Doctor, looking straight at her. "Short for-"
"Melody," Mels—no, Melody, it had been too long since she'd used her given name-replied.
"Yeah, I know," said Amy. "I named my daughter after her."
"You named your daughter after your daughter," said the Doctor.
"It took me years to find you two," said Melody, and that wasn't exactly a lie. "I'm so glad I did. And you see? It all worked out in the end, didn't it? You got to raise me after all."
"You're Melody?" said Amy, her expression unreadable, and Melody felt a flame of anger, because if the Doctor hadn't meddled, she would have had a normal life, and her mother would never have had to ask that question.
"But if she's Melody, that means that she's also-" began Rory.
"Oh, shut up, Dad," said Melody. "I'm focusing on a dress size."
And then she was burning, and it was agony, agony-
She jerked forward, a sudden weight to her head that hadn't been there before. She uttered something between a gasp and a sigh, did it about two more times, and shook out her hair with a last little gasp.
"Right, let's see, then," she said, hoping that she wasn't too unattractive, and was it just her or was the Doctor looking at her differently now? "Ooo, it's all going on down there, isn't it?" she said with delight, before moving her hands to her hair. "The hair! Oh, the hair. It just doesn't stop, does it? Look at that." She moved to a mirror. "Everything changes. Oh, but I love it. I love it! I'm all sort of mature."
She looked up at the Doctor (ooh, was everything different when one regenerated? It seemed like he was the first face that these eyes had ever seen. How strange) and struck a pose. She always did love The Graduate, even back when she was Melody Williams. "Hello, Benjamin," she purred, remembering to take the gun from where it had been left on the chair cushion.
The Doctor slapped his hand to his face before taking it down and mouthing "Who's Benjamin?" to Amy.
"The teeth," said Melody suddenly, feeling a weirdness in her mouth. "The teeth, the teeth! Oh, look at them." She could feel the weight of the gun in her hand; no bullets. Useless. She'd have to go for the one the Doctor had stuck in the fruit basket. She ran forward so that the Doctor was straddling her, pushing him up against the desk and discreetly grabbing the gun. "Watch out, that bow tie," she purred. The Doctor looked flabbergasted-and did she detect attraction in those green eyes of his?
"Excuse me, you lot, I need to weigh myself," she added, hurrying into a side room and taking a moment to collect herself.
"That's Melody," she heard Amy say.
"That's River Song," said Rory. What?
"Who's River Song?" Melody demanded, sticking her head out of the side room.
Dead silence, then the Doctor replied awkwardly, "Spoilers."
"Spoilers?" Melody was secretly delighted with the word—now that was the word she'd been looking for!—but of course she wouldn't tell him that. "What spoilers? Hang on, just something I have to check-"and she ducked back in the room, checked something briefly, and was extremely satisfied. "Oh, that's magnificent!" she said happily, striding out into Hitler's office. "I'm going to wear lots of jodhpurs." She smiled. "Well, now, enough of all that. Down to business."
She pulled out the empty gun.
"Oh, hello," said the Doctor, and Melody thankfully didn't let her surprise at his non-surprise show. "I thought we were getting married."
"I told you, I'm not a wedding person," Melody chided him.
"Doctor, what's she doing?" Rory asked.
"What she's programmed to do," the Doctor replied.
There was a lot of banter after that—if Melody hadn't been trying to kill him, she might have called it flirting. And then he said something like "My bespoke psychopath", something that she couldn't quite understand, because when he said it he had a sort of adoration and guilty joy in his eyes.
Stop looking at me like that! Melody wanted to shout at him. I'm here to kill you, don't you see?
Instead, she whispered "I'm all yours, sweetie," and kissed him lightly and chastely on the mouth.
She'd expected him to stare at her, flabbergasted, but his little smile never faltered. "Only River Song gets to call me that," he told her, his voice low, as if they were sharing a secret.
"And who's River Song?" she demanded.
"An old friend of mine," he replied, and this time there was no mistaking the love in his eyes. But she'd been wrong, she'd read him wrong, the love wasn't for her, and somehow that made killing him easier.
"Stupid name," she said dismissively. He looked vaguely disappointed. She felt vaguely smug.
She poisoned him.
Then she went shopping, mostly so that she could forget the horror and betrayal in his eyes. They didn't know each other anyway, so why would it matter to him who he was killed by?
Oh, and then a time-traveling robot showed up and tried to-well-she wasn't really clear on what it was trying to do, but it hurt a lot.
"No!" she shouted desperately. Oh, nice work, Melody, said her subconscious sarcastically. Screaming at the thing really does prompt it to go away. That sort of thing always works with monsters and aliens, and especially with the Spaceman. "No! Get off me!"
"Sorry, did you just say she killed the Doctor?" came a voice, and Melody gasped softly as the beam removed itself. "The Doctor?" There was a dramatic pause from the Doctor, dressed in a top hat and tails (oh my god did he stop to change when he was dying? Melody felt an involuntary little heart-flutter which she immediately mentally berated herself for). "Doctor who?" Oh, and there went the attraction, thrown right out the window. Melody rolled her eyes.
"You're dying and you stopped to change?" said Melody incredulously. Don't act so surprised, she thought to herself, you would do that too.
"Oh, you should always waste time when you don't have any," the Doctor responded cheerfully. His eyes were sparkling again. "Time is not the boss of you. Rule four hundred and eight." He turned to the Teselecta. "Amelia Pond, judgment death machine. Why am I not surprised?" Then he adjusted his cane-"Sonic cane."
"Are you serious?" said Melody, who had thought that she couldn't be more surprised.
"Never knowingly," the Doctor replied to her with a silly little smile. "Never knowingly be serious. Rule twenty-seven. You might want to write these down. Oh-"-and this to the Teselecta-"it's a robot. With four hundred and twenty three life signs inside. A robot worked by tiny people. Love it. But how do you all get in there, though? Bigger on the inside? No, basic miniaturization sustained by a compression field. Ooo! Watch what you eat, it'll get you every time. Amy and Rory, if you are okay, signal me."
Melody stifled an involuntary little hopeful gasp. Come on, Mum, Dad, you've still got to raise me, come on!
"Thanking you," said the Doctor happily.
Oh thank God.
"Argh!" shouted the Doctor suddenly, and swayed slightly. Melody might have hid a smirk if she wasn't so confused; he was still looking at her, his eyes fixed on hers as if in companionship, as if to offer support. Did this idiotic Time Lord not understand that he was dying? "I'm so sorry. Leg went to sleep. Just had a quick left leg power nap. I forgot I had one scheduled. Actually, better sit down. I think I heard the right one yawning." He sort of sat down. It was more of a fall, actually.
My cue to exit, Melody thought, and she'd gotten three steps when she was caught in an energy beam.
After that, everything was a bit hazy. She could barely hear anyone, as if there was a curtain between her and the rest of the world. But one thing she did hear, one thing that was yelled so loud that she couldn't miss it, was the Doctor's shout of "Don't you touch her! Do not harm her in any way!"
Five more minutes, and then everything was a lot hazy, because Melody was in more pain than she'd been in that Leadworth alleyway. Every cell in her body was screaming in agony, and she was so scared, and she wanted to be Melody Williams again, due to the fact that Melody Williams had never been to 1930s Berlin, Melody Williams hadn't even been born yet-
She gasped and nearly fell forward onto the floor, managing to steady herself just in time. The Doctor was nearly dead now, she could tell, but she was much more focused on not being in so much pain anymore. Just a few more steps and she could-
"Please," the Doctor gasped, and she stared at him, this man who cared about his murderer. He wasn't supposed to look at her with those puppy-dog eyes. Everything about this was wrong. "Now we have to save your parents. Don't run. Now, I know you're scared, but never run when you're scared. Rule seven. Please."
Melody staggered over to a chair and sat down, regaining a bit more of her self-control. Whatever this Doctor's plan was, she didn't want to be a part of it.
"Doctor, help us! Doctor, please!" the Teselecta cried with Amy's voice, still frozen, still with no emotion on its face. The Doctor was…was he trying to get to his TARDIS? Seriously? Did he care that much about the people whose lives he'd twisted?
"Look at you," Melody whispered in amazement. "You still care." And she felt her heart flutter, felt a tiny seed of doubt sprout in her soul. "It's impressive, I'll give you that."
"Doctor, help! Doctor, help us! Please help us," the Teselecta begged.
"It's impressive, I'll give you that," she added, trying to maintain her cool and composed façade.
"River," the Doctor begged weakly as he struggled. "Please."
"Again!" said Melody indignantly. "Who is this River? She's got to be a woman. Am I right?"
"Help me," the Doctor whispered. "Save Amy and Rory. Help me."
"Tell me about her," Melody ordered.
"Argh—just!" The Doctor seemed to be too frustrated for words—or was it pain? "Help me," he whispered.
"Tell me," Melody persisted. "That's all you've been talking about. River. Who is she?"
She wouldn't forget that moment, not once, not ever. His voice was full of agony and longing and love when he spoke four words. Four words that shattered everything she'd been taught.
"She's my special someone," he whispered, and from his jacket pocket he pulled out a sparkly purple pen and held it so she could see.
In an instant Melody was kneeling next to him, snatching the pen from his hand and drawing a squiggly line on her hand to test the ink. She dropped the pen like it had burned her fingers, it was exactly the right shade—
"Running out of time," the Doctor whispered, catching the pen in his hands. "You're the…child of the TARDIS, you…you can save your parents, please, please, Melody."
What on earth had he done for her? What on earth had she done to him?
"Man-In-The-Attic?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly.
"Melody Pond," he said, relief in his eyes, and his hand closed her fingers around the pen.
She entered the TARDIS and started to cry like she was Melody Pond again, in an alleyway, scared and alone and afraid. Because now she wasn't Melody Pond, or Melody Williams, or Melody Zucker. She was a screwed-up psychopath who had somehow managed to murder the man of her dreams.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid Melody!" she sobbed, banging her head against the console, and then she felt a sort of tickle in the back of her mind.
Hello, Daughter! It is so lovely to have seen you! Will see you. Are seeing you. Why were you sad?
Melody drew in a ragged breath. I'm okay, she lied easily, and then, Hang on, who are you?
I'm your Mother, Melody, don't you know that? Oh, I suppose that this is when we first meet. How delightful! I will miss you, have missed you. Ooh, it's so nice to talk to you again!
"You're in my head," Melody said aloud.
I can only talk to you in your head. TARDISes are not designed to talk.
"I killed your pilot," said Melody softly. "I'm sorry."
Oh, don't be silly, of course you didn't! the TARDIS laughed gaily. He has many more adventures to come.
"He's dying."
You need to save your parents before we worry about my Thief, Daughter, the TARDIS reprimanded. First off, take off the brakes-those switches there-my silly Thief always leaves the brakes on. Now, can you use the blue stabilizers? My Thief never does. Oh, this will be wonderful! Finally, I'll be flown properly.
Melody followed the TARDIS's instructions. She didn't know how she knew this machine (no, that wasn't right, something as vibrant and beautiful as the TARDIS couldn't possibly be a machine), but there was something comforting in the TARDIS's presence.
Now materialize around the Pretty and the Orange One, Daughter, and you will be able to fly home safe to your Thief.
"I thought he was your thief?" Melody asked softly.
He is your Thief now, not mine, the TARDIS told her with what sounded like a fond smile, and as her presence left Melody's mind, Melody felt the despair return.
"Doctor?" came her mother's voice from the other side of the console, and Melody bit back her tears, taking a tiny shuddering breath. "Doctor, you did it," Amy laughed in delight. "He did it!"
Melody stepped out from behind the console and watched the faces of her parents change.
Damn the Doctor! shrieked a voice inside her. This is his fault! All his fault, all of it, if he hadn't existed, you would have parents who loved you, and—
But Melody remembered the way the Doctor had looked at her. Soft and adoring, sort of like she was something utterly precious, and she knew that if he could he would have given her a wonderful life.
Everyone makes mistakes. Some just happen to be bigger than others. She laughed ruefully to herself.
"I seem to be able to fly her," she said softly. Her parents' faces didn't change; they continued to stare at her with fear. It's me, she wanted to scream. Me, Melody Pond, Melody Williams, Mels Zucker, your best friend, your daughter. "She showed me how. She taught me." Me, Melody. You know me. "The Doctor says I'm the child of the Tardis. What does he mean?"
"Where is he?" Amy asked her.
"I'll—I'll take you to him," said Melody, and she focused only on flying the TARDIS. Amy and Rory were absolutely silent throughout the entire ride.
The Doctor was lying on the steps, but when Melody stepped into the room, she could see his eyes light up and a pained smile twist his face—oh my god he's still in love with me, the idiot. She uttered a choked sob that Amy missed (her mother was too busy flying to the Doctor's side) but Rory didn't.
"Hey," he said softly, and he took her hand in his. "I'm—frankly, I'm a bit confused about all of this, but when push comes to shove you're still my daughter, and…and I want you to know that whatever happens here we'll figure it out. Okay?"
Melody nodded stiffly and held back a sob. Rory could always read her better than anyone; she supposed it was fatherly instincts. "Thanks," she whispered. Rory gave her a funny little half smile, one that was sort of twisted with grief, and she felt a horrible wave of self-hatred as he stepped past her to the Doctor.
She stepped away from the TARDIS and drew in a breath. "It's okay," she whispered to herself. "You're okay, it's okay, this is all okay, and you're going to be all right."
"You can't die," she heard her mother say. Amy's voice was thick with tears. "I know you don't die now."
My fault, my fault, my fault. It had been so easy to blame everything bad on the Doctor. She'd done it simply because she hadn't really thought of him as a person, just someone who had done awful things and deserved to be punished for it. But what she had learned now was this: it was very easy to kiss and kill someone that you didn't know, but it wasn't as easy to watch them die. Maybe she wasn't the perfect psychopath after all.
"Oh, Pond, you've got a schedule for everything," the Doctor whispered weakly.
"But it doesn't make any sense," Amy whispered.
"Doctor, what do we do?" Rory demanded softly, almost desperately. "Come on. How do we help you?"
"No," said the Doctor simply. "Sorry, Rory, you can't. Nobody can. Ponds, listen to me. I need to talk to your daughter."
Her parents stepped away and looked at Melody, who approached warily and bent down next to him. She lightly stroked his shoulder, trying to offer the comfort that River Song might have given him in this sort of situation.
"Find her," the Doctor whispered. "Find River Song and tell her something from me."
"Tell her what?" Melody said softly.
She leaned in close, and he whispered in her ear.
"I think…I think I've fallen in love with her," he mumbled, sounding almost scared of his own realization. "I think I'm going to stop running from her now. I think I'm running to her instead, now. Always and forever, River…you and me. Time and space. You watch us run."
Melody laughed softly. The way he said it told her that he was the sort of person who was blatantly obvious about his romantic feelings to everyone but himself. "Well, I'm sure she knows," she joked lightly, pulling away to smile at him, but his eyes were closed. Oddly enough, he looked at peace, as if his last confession had brought him to a better place.
She would keep her promise. She would find River Song.
Melody turned her eyes to her mother.
"Who's River Song?" she asked simply.
Amy looked at her for a moment, and then she turned to the Teselecta. "Are you still working?" she asked. "Because I'm still a relative. Access files on River Song."
"Records available," said the Teselecta.
"Show me her," said Amy with a quiver in her voice. "Show me River Song."
Although Melody Pond was unfamiliar with her new face, she'd spent enough time experimenting with new outfits during the course of the day to recognize her own face on the Teselecta. Especially that amazing space hair, which she had to admit was her favorite.
The Doctor loved her. His murderer. As he died, his last thought had gone to her, even as she watched him passively. She was the woman he loved.
And he chose now to figure it out.
He was mad and he was silly. He was clever and he was hot. He stopped to change into a tuxedo, and she was now strongly suspecting that it had just been to show off for her. He defied all the rules that Madame had set in stone. When his eyes met hers she felt complete. When they'd kissed, she'd felt him twitch a bit, as if he was trying oh so hard not to reach out and tug her into his arms. He loved her. He loved her. He loved her.
Well then, she thought, steeling herself. As Amy looked back at her, she looked away, turning to the Doctor instead. I know what I need to do, for once.
She could hear Amy's voice, distantly, as though Amy was asking a question from the other end of a long tunnel, but she was too focused on calling up her regeneration energy to really pay much attention to any questions.
I'm doing what I want to do. I'm taking charge of my own life, for once. I'm going to be someone's special someone. Her hands began to glow.
"What's happening?" she heard her mother ask. "River, what are you doing?"
"Just tell me," she said softly, her eyes on the Doctor's face. Please let this work. Please. "The Doctor, is he worth it?"
"Yes!" Amy replied without hesitation. "Yes, he is!"
That was all the assertion Melody needed. She knelt down next to the Doctor, her hands glowing, the amazing fullness of the energy washing over her. She focused on it-soon regeneration energy would only be a memory to her.
At the tentative touch of her hands to his face, she felt his heart restart. He drew in a breath, staring up at her, looking unsurprised and horribly guilty.
"River," he breathed, his voice weak. "No—what are you doing?"
She smiled softly, a strange sort of joy and elation filling her. "Hello, sweetie," she whispered, and she was slowly kissing him, and damned if it didn't feel ever so deliciously right…
And then her vision fuzzed at the edge and she slumped onto his chest.
"No!" she heard the Doctor shout, as he suddenly jerked up from where he'd been lying on the steps. "No, no, no—River!"
She let her eyes close. She was bloody exhausted, but for the first time in a very long time, she was happy at the same time.
"Don't do things like that," he whispered, panic in his voice, standing up unsteadily and picking her up bridal-style with him. She rested her head against his chest, feeling stable and safe for the first time since she'd woken up that morning. "Come on, let's get you to a hospital." She felt the soft press of his mouth to hers, as if in reassurance. She let her eyes drift completely shut.
Later, Amy would tell her that as soon as she was asleep, the Doctor panicked, running around the TARDIS in a frenzy to pilot it and flatly refusing to put down River to do so. Later, Amy would tell her that when they landed, the Doctor pressed a fleeting kiss to River's forehead as if to reassure himself that she would be all right. Later, Amy would tell her that the Doctor didn't wait in line—he cut neatly to the front of a lot of angry people with the psychic paper, his voice cold and sharp and desperate. Later, Amy would tell her that she slept for three days, and the Doctor refused to leave her side even to eat—Amy and Rory stayed in the TARDIS and brought him food whenever they thought he might need it.
But all Melody knew when she first woke up was that the Doctor was holding her hand and kissing the palm lightly.
"My River," he was whispering. "I wish you'd wake up. Your parents are worried as hell; I had to shut them in the TARDIS. You'll be well soon, I know it, and as soon as you are, I'm going to fly you across the cosmos in a balloon. Or something else sufficiently romantic. And you'll roll your eyes like you always do, but you'll smile too, because your Doctor is such a nostalgic idiot. Really, I'm more yours than you are mine—um, how long have you been awake?"
"Long enough," said Melody in weak amusement. "Hello, sweetie."
"Hello, dear," the Doctor said with a sappy little smile. She decided that she was going to keep him.
Do you have anyone special?
Maybe.
Reviews?
-The Eclectic Bookworm