Title: Rainy Day
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Spoilers for A Good Man Goes to War
Characters/Pairing: River/Doctor (Eleven)
Summary: River likes the rain. People aren't supposed to walk on eggshells, in the rain. And when the Doctor forgets that, River has a very interesting way of reminding him.
Notes: This takes place when River is sometime in her mid-twenties. Concrit, PLEASE. Thank you to everyone who has read my other stories, particularly those who reviewed and favorited. As for the stories I was planning: I'm still planning 'Little Bird' and the stories to fill my liquids table (this one fills 'rain' on my weather prompt table), however I've been a bit discouraged on the first one because I stupidly forgot to save and my netbook overheated just as I was finishing the first chapter. Anyway, here. Have a fic.

River liked the rain. She was used to it. There was lots of rain when she was in New York, and hardly ever any shelter. It had rained when she lived in Leadworth, too. Sometimes she would run out and dance in empty streets. Her mother would laugh and skip and balance on the low stone wall in the town square. Sometimes her mother would look over, catch her eye, and smile. Her mother had a lovely smile, though River hardly ever got to see it. They didn't speak, when they danced in the rain. River and her mother didn't speak much at all. Amy never let River out of her sight, but she didn't have much to do with her when they were together. River didn't suppose she knew what to say. She had gathered from her father that her mother had been close to her older self, even before she was born. She didn't know what 'close' meant, but she supposed it must be rather like dancing in the rain.

River liked that she could choose the rain, with her parents. She had scattered memories of being in the children's home, rain raging outside, hitting the roof, the windows, the siding, hard and fast. She was never allowed outside, rain or no, and so the first time she felt rain, real rain, not the occasional simulation meant to train her for battle, was when she went to New York. Then there was no roof for the rain to hit.

In Leadworth she had a home. No one kept her there if she didn't want to stay, not really. Even her father let her run away sometimes, when she needed to, and made sure she knew she could, and he'd always follow. She could stay inside and listen to the rain hit the roof, or dance in the square with her mother, rain straightening her curls.

Everywhere they went there was rain. Some places it rained almost constantly, some hardly ever. One settlement they lived in had a fair every time it rained, to celebrate the survival of the crops. She and her mother weren't the only ones who danced in the rain, there.

She remembered how her mother would swing her around, the most intimate touch she ever gave. It wasn't that her mother didn't touch her, didn't hug her—she did. But it wasn't like it was when her father held her. When her father held her it was warm and safe, like flying in the oxygen bubble the Doctor would make outside the TARDIS. That bubble never failed her. When her mother hugged her, though, it felt like being guarded, held, locked up like a precious possession her mother was afraid to lose. Not like handcuffs, she knew, now that she was older and wiser and far more versed in the ways of the world, not like ropes wound carefully about your arms till they made diamonds on your skin—no. It felt like prison. Not Stormcage, a sentence she'd inflicted for her safety as well as others, but like the cells her captors kept her in sometimes, when it pleased them to do so. But not when they danced.

When River and her mother danced, it felt like flying.

River smiled softly, her memories melting like the spring frost in the warm evening rain. She spun again, away from the Doctor, then close again, his arms wrapping around her chest. She threw back her head and opened her mouth, the rain hitting the back of her throat, cool and pure and almost sweet. She laughed.

"I love the rain!" she half-shouted over the sound of the storm.

"I can tell," the Doctor shouted back as River spun away again. As she spun back this time he stopped her, looking into her eyes and pushing a soaking strand of hair behind her ear. "It's very beautiful," he said, and she smiled wickedly.

"Thank you," she said, her hand wandering up his chest.

"Who says I was talking about you? I was talking about the storm. Clouds and things. They're very beautiful. Have you ever looked at one of the TARDIS's meteorological analyses of a storm? Fascinating stuff, I'll have to show you sometime. And this planet is particularly interesting, the atmosphere is just-"

"You're babbling," River almost sang, turning and leaning her back against his chest. He settled his arms around her once more, and she stretched her body out so she was looking at him. "I'm not having a threesome with a meteorological survey or analysis or anything of the sort, I hope you know. I'd be happy to do the TARDIS again though, that was very nice. Or we could pick up a meteorologist. I knew a lovely one at University. Incredibly long tongue. He could tie it in knots, though I gather it was rather painful, so he didn't much."

"River, I don't particularly want to sleep with a meteorologist I've just met."

"I didn't mention sleeping." She grinned at him again, and then bolted off up the hill. "I'll race you to the Wall!"

"River!" he shouted after her, before taking off at full speed.

"Yes," she shouted over her shoulder, "That one!"

…

The river was high, very high. The rain had raised the water level well past normal, or so River gathered from the surrounding land.

The Wall was higher.

The Wall on the Water was old even now, and would still be old in a thousand years, when people would once again walk this land and worship there. Seeing the Wall on the Water now, long after its builders were dead and long before man came to disturb it, was an archeologist's dream. River's dream.

She smiled up at the wall, sticking out her tongue to catch the raindrops. The water from the rushing river hit her shoes, and she pulled off her boots and socks to let the water wash her toes.

The Doctor came to a stop behind her. "River," he said, breathing slightly harder than usual, "Just so we're clear, you are not climbing this wall."

"Oh, I think I am."

"Historical landmark, River!"

"Doctor. It's raining. The water levels are just about as high as they get, which means, hold on," she stepped carefully into the river, until she sank about a foot beneath the surface, then bobbing up again, "Now is the safest time to jump." She walked back out of the river, shaking the water off. "Plus it's so much more fun to climb things in the rain. And technically it isn't a historical landmark yet. Besides, it's not like I wrote on the oldest rock face in the universe."

He paused, spluttered, then, "That…doesn't make it better. River, we can go save the universe or something, whatever, but you are not climbing the Wall on the Water in the rain."

She glared at him, her eyes flashing. "Look. Maybe you've forgotten how this works. I do not do what you say. You are not my father. You are not my commander. You're not my owner, and I am not your property. I am not your weapon or your soldier or your child. And even if I was," she said, straightening up to reach her full height (still quite a bit shorter than him), "I still wouldn't do what you told me."

"You know, River, there's a line between independence and stupidity. Not doing something just because someone tells you that you should do it is not reasonable. It is stupid. River, I love danger, I love running, I love jumping off of walls. I'm not so fond of stupidity."

"You have no right to speak to me that way."

"I have every right to speak to you that way!" The Doctor's tone bit like freezing wind, and River wrapped her arms around herself. Raindrops hit her arms, and she rubbed the water over her skin. "River. I may not be your father. I may not be your commander; I am no one's owner. But I am so far past old enough to be your father, and I commanded troops to save your world, River, even if you've never set foot there. And while you travel on my TARDIS, I'm your captain."

"I'm pretty sure the captain would be your ship, Sweetie," River said, rolling back her head. The water made tracks down her cheeks mimicking tears. She made no move to wipe it away.

"River!" the Doctor snapped again. "This isn't a game. This isn't a simulation. You fall and snap your neck, you will die. And I still don't know enough about your physiology to know just how many regenerations you have."

"Are you honestly telling me to be careful? We save towns and worlds and galaxies and do you know how many prices I have on my head? Because I don't! But I do know it isn't as many as you." She shook her head at him, setting her jaw. "You are such a hypocrite."

He didn't say anything for a minute. Looked at the ground. He took a step back, took a deep breath, and looked up at her. "This isn't what we do. This is pointless and reckless. And, more importantly, it's not me doing it. It's you. It is my job to keep you safe. It is my responsibility. Not because I'm your captain or because I was a commander, but because I care about you. I am older than you. I'm a Time Lord. You're a passenger on my TARDIS, I promised your father I would do my best to protect you and you wouldn't be in most of the danger you are in if it were not for me."

"I'd never have been born if it weren't for you."

"River. Let me finish. I promised your father, I promised myself, and you wouldn't be in most of the danger you're in if it weren't for me. And, River, I love you." The Doctor looked down again. "River, I am not a good man. And I am very selfish. But because I am so selfish, I look after the things and the people that I love. I do not like it when the people who I love are hurt. And I have learned, over the course of my very long life—much longer than yours, remember—that when someone hurts the people who I love, I get very, very angry. This particular regeneration does not do well with anger."

"You had a regeneration that did well with anger?" asked River, shifting uncomfortably. She felt, all of a sudden, every minute of the difference in their ages.

"River. I do not like it when the people who I love get hurt. You are someone who I love. I do not want you to get hurt."

River stared at the ground as the rain turned dirt to mud, watching it intently. She felt tears stinging at her eyes, and she swallowed, trying to force them back. She blinked into the rain. "You don't love yourself?" she asked, not looking him in the eye.

"You're the expert," he said, stepping towards her again. She felt his gaze boring through her. "What do you think?"

She looked up at him. When she did, she saw that he wore a look she'd seen far too many times before. Not on him, though. She'd never seen that look on him. She set her jaw again. "Don't you look at me like that. Not now. Not here."

"I'm not looking at you like anything, River."

"You look at me like that here, now, and I will go back to my parents."

"Yeah, well maybe you'd be safer if I took you!"

River turned, and stepped forward until she was knee-deep in the water. The wind and rain beat down on her, washed the tears from her eyes. "You're so afraid I'll break, Doctor. So afraid it'll be your fault when I do. Everyone's afraid I'll break. Not Dad. I mean, he's scared out of his mind, but he doesn't try to—You, and Mom, you're afraid of losing me. You look at me like…Doctor, you ever look at me like that again, ever, I will break your fingers. And if you ever look at me like that again in the rain, you will lose me." She looked over her shoulder. "Take off your shirt, Doctor," she shouted, wind whipping against her face.

"What?"

"Your shirt and jacket. Take them off."

"Why?" asked the Doctor, though he was already shedding his jacket and undoing his bowtie.

River squared her shoulders, rolling them back. "You think I'm fragile. You're afraid I'll break. I'm going to show you that I can protect myself. Now take off your nice shirt, before it gets ruined."

"It'll get ruined anyway, I've not got anywhere to put it except on the ground, and that's all muddy." Nonetheless, he began unbuttoning his shirt. He was certainly not averse to the idea of removing his clothes in front of River, after all. "Look, River, you don't have to show me anything. I've seen you fight."

"No, Sweetie, you haven't. Not me. Her. That's the problem you're having, isn't it?" River turned around to face him. "I'm not the River you knew, not yet. I won't be until I reach that point in my timeline. You've never seen me fight, not really. So now you are." She left the water and stood in front of the Doctor, close enough to reach out and touch.

The Doctor finished unbuttoning his shirt, and let it fall to the ground.

It landed in a mud puddle.

"Told you it would get ruined," said River, looking down at the shirt.

"Darling, have you seen my wardrobe?"

River threw back her head and laughed. The Doctor smiled, watching her. Then he doubled over in pain. It took him a second to realize what had just happened—while she was laughing, River had brought her knee up sharply into his crotch. Unfortunately, this second's pause gave River time to catch the side of his head with the front of her arm, and his ankle with her foot. Before he could be quite sure what was happening he was on the ground, the wind knocked out of him. The mud slapped wetly against his back when he landed, and he winced.

"Satisfied yet?" River asked, her foot on the Doctor's throat.

"This isn't exactly my forum," the Doctor choked out. "I'm very old."

"I'm not playing football with you, old man."

"You're just afraid you'll lose," said the Doctor, grinning and hoarse.

"You wish," said River, her eyes flashing playfully. "Alright, I'll play you. But that won't accomplish my goal. I still need to show you I can protect myself, don't I?" She straddled him, and ran her finger down his chest, catching a raindrop that had fallen there. "Need to show you how grown up I am."

The Doctor looked a little pale. "River, come on, let's just go back to the TARDIS. Get out of the rain."

River smiled and hopped up, landing gracefully on her feet, bending her knees almost imperceptibly to absorb the impact. "Alright," she said cheerfully. "We can finish this there." She helped the Doctor to his feet, grinning wickedly, and leaned forward. "I left my handcuffs, anyhow," she whispered.