Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Who-verse. That honour belongs to Steven Moffat (I am not worthy) and the mighty and glorious BBC.
Raw and unbeta'd so any mistakes I can claim for myself alone.
I'm going away for a few days holiday and thought I should post a little something for the Jubilee holiday, set somewhere after the end of series 7 with a smidge of what will probably turn out to be AU (because Steven Moffat, as lovely as he is, will never be that kind).
Feedback, as always, is loved.
Give Me Your Answer Do...
A white petal, picked out in the light of the triple moons overhead, spiralled from her fingertips onto the soft folds of moss green raw silk pooled in her lap.
"He loves me..." Her words were softly spoken, barely more than a murmur.
Another petal fluttered down to join the first, reminding her of the white cabbage butterflies she had chased around the garden with her mother as children. "He loves me not..." She smiled as she heard a footfall behind her on the grass. "Hello, Sweetie." She paused as she plucked another petal from the bloom in her hand and released it, a sudden breath of wind blowing it beyond the circle of her skirt so that it finally came to rest amongst the pale green blades of grass on which she sat. "He loves me."
There was a self conscious cough as he stepped around and in front of her, his long limbs folding awkwardly beneath him until he was sat cross legged like a little boy before her, his head tilted to one side, eyes curious.
"Ummm, River?"
"Yes, sweetie?" She didn't lift her eyes from the flower in her hand, one half a perfect array of delicate white petals, parchment thin, which seemed almost luminous in the twilight, the other half bald and somehow desolate. Her long fingers desecrated the remaining perfect semicircle. "He loves me not."
"What are you doing?" He sounded genuinely bewildered.
Her eyes raised to his then and she smiled to see his face frowning in childlike confusion. "Finding out if you love me?" she said matter of factly, discarding another petal. "He loves me."
"You do realise that's a Cardian daisy you're massacring," he pointed out in a scandalised tone of voice. "One of the rarest flowers in the known universe? Picking them is a class five offence."
"Shush, I'm concentrating. He loves me not." As she released the next petal to the breeze, she gestured about them absently.
His eyes followed her hand and with some embarrassment he noticed an abundance of the delicate white blooms dotted throughout the grass. "You're not the reason they're rare, are you?" he said finally, his eyes returning to meet her amused gaze.
She laughed, and he realised that, in all their encounters he'd never heard her sound quite this carefree. It was difficult to tell exactly where they were in her timeline. "Where are my parents?" she chuckled casting a glance over her shoulder in the direction he'd approached from. There was no sign of the Tardis. "He loves me."
After Demon's Run then, he concluded and then noticed a platinum band encircling one finger of her left hand. That was new. He started as he realised she was watching him expectantly, as usual her soft curving smile speaking volumes while saying nothing. He grinned and rubbed round the back of his neck with one hand as he always did when reminded that his current companions were technically his in-laws. "Asleep, at least they disappeared in the direction of their room in great haste about an hour ago... I decided to take a walk." His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How did you know I would be here?"
There was a distinct roll of the eyes as she patted the battered blue diary by her feet. "He loves me not."
He gave a disgusted harrumph. "Spoilers?" he grumbled. Sometimes it would be nice to know exactly where he stood.
"Naturally...but only little ones," she replied placatingly. Another petal landed on her skirt. "He loves me."
Her attention returned to what was left of the Cardian daisy and his face adopted the wounded expression of a small child whose mother has just ignored their proudly presented finger-painted work of art in favour of an advert for the new Debenham's sale. "He loves me not."
"Aren't you even a little bit pleased to see me?"
She chuckled again, but there was no mockery in her laughter. "Doctor, I'm always pleased to see you. You don't ever need to ask that." Her eyes were sparkling and filled with love as she looked up coyly through lowered lashes.
"And you don't need to ask a flower if I love you!" he retorted, suddenly irritated by the small white flower he didn't understand. He rocked forward on his knees one hand preparing to brush the stupid daisy from her hand but she pulled it back out of reach.
"I know that, sweetie," she reassured him, "but it's nice to know the universe in general knows it too." She held up the by now bedraggled stem which was sporting just one remaining petal. "See, he loves me."
She picked up the diary from her feet and opened it, slipping the remains of the daisy inside. On the page beside it he could see the pale mauve petals of a second flower, flattened and desiccated.
"A Cardian moon rose," she said in explanation as she closed the book firmly. She climbed to her feet, brushing the petals from her skirt in a snowy cascade and looked down at him. He scrambled to his feet clasping her outstretched hand as she did so.
"Time to go, my love," she said wistfully flicking open the vortex manipulator on her wrist and setting the coordinates. "Places to go, people to see." She was gratified to see a flare of jealousy darken his eyes and added softly, "And by people I mean you." She leaned in to drop a chaste kiss on his lips, but he caught her shoulder pulling her to him so that he could deepen the kiss just for a moment.
"You are a terrible tease, River Song," he said finally, raising his head.
"I know, shocking isn't it," she retorted gaily letting one palm rest against his cheek for a heartbeat before she stepped out of the circle of his arms.
"River, why did you come here?" he asked suddenly serious.
"Because I knew you were going to be here," she said simply.
"No other reason?" He hated the scepticism in his tone, but let's face it, rarely were their encounters devoid of an ulterior motive.
"I don't need another reason."
His lack of faith had hurt her; there was censure in her reply and the light behind her eyes had dimmed just a fraction. He swallowed, looking down at the remains of the daisy littering the grass at his feet.
"I love you." Three bald little words. Words they'd... no he'd, danced around, unwilling to take that final tumble into the abyss. "I should have said that a long time ago, River."
Her smile was radiant, lighting up the twilight. "I love you too." She blew him a kiss, the ring on her hand catching the moonlight and throwing it back at him. He lifted his hand in an answering farewell as she vanished.
The harsh familiar grating sound rose in a crescendo, setting her pulse racing. She swung her legs down from the bunk, setting the textbook down without a thought, and stood, face pressed to the bars, waiting.
The blue box screeched into existence, sending plumes of grey concrete dust up into the air at its base. There was a seconds delay and then the doors opened and he stepped through.
She faltered, the smile and words of welcome freezing on her lips. He was wearing a suit. And not just any suit, a morning suit, in dark grey with a deep turquoise tie. And so was her dad, stepping into the grey featureless corridor behind him. And her mother... oh, dear god, Amy was wearing a hat. With flowers! And a feather?
She could do little more than gape as he crossed the corridor to her, his face determined, the only outward sign of his nervousness the white knuckles on the hands clenched round his sonic screwdriver and a rather rustic bouquet of unfamiliar mauve flowers .
He stopped just out of reach and pointed the screwdriver at the cell bars, the high-pitched whine and reassuring clunk signalling that the door could be pulled open. But he didn't, and neither did she. He just stared at her. She stared back.
"Oh, for pity's sake!"
Amy, hot on the Doctor's heels, was not so reticent, she yanked the door of the cell open and practically hauled the Doctor through the opening by his lapels until he was stood in front of River.
"Well?" she prompted with a positive glower at the Doctor's frozen features. She looked ready to say more but Rory's hand fell on her arm and he drew her out of the cell with a warning shake of the head. Despite Amy's protests he pulled her back to the door of the Tardis, out of earshot if not out of sight.
The Doctor cleared his throat, his arms starting their usual frenetic nervous wind-milling, even with the added hindrance of the flowers.
"River," he began, his eyes searching her white face. "I love you. I want to marry you." He frowned. "I mean I want to marry you again... properly. In this reality... and not when the universe's about to end. At least I don't think it's about to end. It's a Tuesday. The universe would never end on a Tuesday..."
"Sweetie." She raised a hand to his mouth to stop the flow of words tumbling from it. "You're babbling."
"Babbling, yes... yes, well, babbling's good. You can never have too much babbling I say." He faltered and scratched his head. "So will you?"
She shook her head and saw his face fall.
"Oh, no. Properly you said. I'm not standing for anything less than properly!"
He grinned sheepishly. "I did say properly..." He slipped the sonic screwdriver into his trouser pocket which, judging by the resulting lack of bulge processed similar dimensional properties to the Tardis, and laid the slightly bedraggled flowers on the bunk.
Taking River's hand, he dropped theatrically to one knee. He looked up to meet her eyes all levity vanishing.
"River, last time we got married, the world was ending and it was rushed and decidedly unromantic." He gave her a crooked smile. "I wondered if you thought I only married you to get you to agree to put time back the way it should be." He waited for some kind of acknowledgement but she merely held his gaze steadily.
"I didn't. I wanted to marry you but not like that." He took a breath, the pause stretching out for almost a minute.
"River, I love you. Will you me the honour of becoming my wife?" The seriousness was engulfed by a sudden impish smile. "Again?" With his free hand he fished in his trouser pocket and pulled out a small plain leather box and pushed it into River's hand. "I got a ring this time, and a proper dress, Amy suggested ivory," He leaned over and picked up the flowers. "And a bouquet, Cardian moon roses. The Traxiian Temple of Caalos is booked. And I even have your dad to give you away..." The last word faded into silence as he belatedly realised River had not moved, or spoken, but was just staring at him with wide incredulous eyes.
"River?" he asked, his question tinged with concern.
She released a long sighing breath and stepped around him, the leather box now clasped in hands with knuckles as white as his had been minutes before.
He watched silently, his hearts beating a wild tattoo of uncertainty, a knot of fear that she was about to reject him rising like a gorge in his throat.
She stopped by the desk and let the box fall so that she could pick up a pen to scribble on a pad of paper. Then she picked up the box, turned to him, a Cheshire cat grin lighting her face, and flicked open the lid. The grin grew still wider at the sight of the platinum band etched with old High Galifreyan.
She picked up the diary and looked expectantly at him. "This is a yes, by the way, sweetie," she chuckled throwing a look back at the pad of paper. He followed her gaze.
On my honeymoon, back sometime. Don't wait up.
R xx
The Doctor's grin matched hers as he plucked a mauve bloom from the bouquet. Lifting the diary from her hands, he ignored her stammer of protest as he opened the book at random and without looking, placed the flower between the leaves and snapped it shut. He handed it back to her.
"A memento of today," he said simply. "Just to remind you I love you... whatever the daisies might say."