Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Who-verse. That honour belongs to RTD (the TW arm at least – Miracle Day, what were you thinking?), Steven Moffat (I am not worthy) and the mighty and glorious BBC. I merely play here occasionally.
A/N: A little something that came to me whilst I was driving home in the dark and the rain...Posted here raw and un-beta'd so forgive me any errors.
Feedback is, as always, adored
Addicted to a certain kind of sadness
I often wonder why I put myself through this. It's not as though I can do anything to change it; well I could, but not without blowing a hole the size of France in space and time. You'll notice I've got more ambitious since Belgium. Sometimes I almost convince myself it would be worth it, but I made a promise a long time ago, to a woman I didn't know but trusted with my life, that I wouldn't rewrite a single moment. Even this. It's one promise I won't risk breaking.
Though I'm powerless to act something draws me, on these nights when I can't be with her, to stand here outside her cell, looking in as River cries herself to sleep. And it hurts. The regret that I can't take her in my arms and soothe away the pain with a few whispered words or with the touch of my hand brushing the hair from her brow is a physical pain that bands my chest. I never thought it would kill me to see her so alone. But it does; I die a little more with every tear that soaks into her pillow.
One day she will escape her imprisonment. I know that; I've seen her run, glorious and free straight into my waiting arms with a knowing smile, warnings of spoilers and all manner of deliciously teasing flirtations. Then we will kiss and laugh and run, and fight the fight, bickering and squabbling as only lovers can, for a hundred days and nights, pretending her past is behind us. The past I find myself watching now, hidden, unable to interfere. A fixed point. Fixed by nothing more than a promise and fear. Fear that if I make the wrong choice I will lose everything that I have.
A light illuminates her cell and suddenly she's no longer alone. A woman, that woman, enters, the omnipresent saccharine but menacing rictus smile curving her thin scarlet lips. In the doorway looms a tall shadow. I can't bring an image of its owner to mind but I know what it is, I've seen the marks on my arm I don't remember making.
"Now then, Melody, time for your lessons." Kovarian's voice is clipped and hateful to my ears.
And my hearts break all over again as I watch the little girl, Melody Pond, dry her eyes and follow her gaoler from the room ready for her conditioning. Ready to become my own bespoke psychopath. River Song. My wife.
Why do I do this? Watch helplessly from the shadows as she suffers at the hands of the Silence night after night? Because I made a promise I wouldn't rewrite a moment of our story, but I also made a promise to Amy that I would find her daughter and keep her safe. Making sure that Melody is never really alone, even now, is the only way I can do that. And besides, quite frankly I can't bear to be anywhere else.