Disclaimer: If I owned Doctor Who, I would have enough money to build my own frickin' TARDIS and fast-forward to November 23rd. But alas, it is still August 27th.
This fic was inspired by that one shot of Tennant looking all glum while still handcuffed after River had sacrificed herself. I mean, doesn't it make ya wanna just reach into the TV and give him a hug? Granted, it IS David Tennat, so most of you probably want to do that all the time...
Okay, enough drooling. Enjoy!
He's always moving, rarely staying in the same place for more than a day, mind incessantly whirling about at the speed of light and hands building and fixing things nearly as fast as his mouth explaining what amazing thing he is doing this time, and always, always, there is running, so much so that he can hardly take the time to catch his breath.
But now the legendary Doctor has wound up unable to move at all, chained to a metal post. And even if he could, he knew he wouldn't have the strength. So instead, he takes a rare moment of silence to sit still and grieve for someone he doesn't know how to truly grieve for in the first place. Grieving implies that you love the person enough to know just how lacking the universe will be without her, and the Doctor has yet to reach this point when it comes to Professor River Song.
He could do nothing but simply stare ahead at the empty mockery of a throne, the cables resting on the seat but lacking the woman who wired them together. There was nothing left of the body, not a thing left to River Song's name but a screwdriver, a diary, and a memory.
Never before had the Doctor met someone more like him than River. She was always able to keep up with him, both in mind and body. River had seemed to make conclusions almost quicker than he, anticipating his every need and telling him off when he was being foolish. And when they ran from the shadows hand in hand, her pace was in beautiful rhythm with his own, her glove fitting into him as though it had been meant to be there all along.
Yet even though she could go just as fast as he, she also knew when to slow down for the sake of another. As they all stood around the remains of Miss Evangelista, as what was left of her little by little slipped away, out of respect River gently spoke with her, easing her away from this life and into whatever lay beyond.
And she was gone now. Finished. End of story. And yet it wasn't, not really. In her last moments she had reassured him that he it wasn't over for him, promised him all of time and space, commanded him to watch them run. But he knew all that even before that point.
Life with a time traveler; never knew it could be such hard work.
Since the moment she had said 'hello sweetie', River Song had terrified him to no end. From the mysterious TARDIS blue book of spoilers to the way she had stroked his face, it was blatantly clear that he meant everything to her.
The more he tried to piece together who she was, the more lost he became. She knew him well, too well, probably better than any other companion. Then how could she possibly claim that she trusted him with all she had, be willing to sacrifice so much for him?
Look at the pair of you. We're all going to die right here and you're just squabbling like an old married couple!
After Lux's outburst, the Doctor and River both automatically turned to one another, shock written on his face and alarm on hers. Could it be... no. It wasn't possible.
But when she stood on tip-toe to whisper something into his ear, he realized that that was exactly what it could be. Suddenly all the puzzle pieces seemed to just fly together naturally, and he wondered why he hadn't been able to see it before.
She had told him so he would trust her, but truth be told a part of him had been there from the beginning. Even though Lux was leading the expedition, though Proper Dave being the pilot was most likely quite skilled in technology and the other archaeologists were just as capable as she was, River was almost always the one he would go to for questions and information. He knew barely more of her than her name, and yet it felt as though she had been a part of his life from the very start.
And she had sacrificed herself, just so that he wouldn't have to. How many more were going to die in his name?
Yeah, very you. Always a death at the end.
He had argued then that you need a good death now and again, but now he decided that was all rubbish.
No one needed to die, not ever. That's when the Doctor resolved that he hated endings, for he had experienced far too many in his in his long, seemingly endless lifetime.
"Oy, Spaceman."
It took him a second to recognize that soft spoken, solemn voice as belonging to Donna Noble. Another second and she came into view, a far cry from the firecracker he knew so well.
"I lost her," he said quietly.
Donna didn't need to ask to whom he was referring. "I'm so sorry, Doctor."
There was a sadness in her eyes, and not only for River, he could tell. The Doctor didn't know what had gone on while she was trapped in the Library Computer, but if anyone knew that look it was him. She had lost someone, too.
Without another word, Donna leaned over to retrieve the very screwdriver that had driven him mad to see in River's possession. She soniced the lock on his handcuffs, and once he was free he took both tool and diary in one hand and Donna's in the other, and the two began to make their way back upstairs.
One day, River Song would come back. One day she would drop back into his life, and they would laugh and adventure across the universe and back again. One day he would love this woman, his wife, with both his hearts.
But today she was dead. So today he would mourn for the woman who was, and the woman who will be.