summary: His song is ending.
characters: River/Ten
warnings: au. spoilers all series. first part is pre-The End of Time, second part takes place during.
disclaimer: fic•tion [fíksh'n]: literary works of imagination
author's notes: Doctor Who au-verse. the whole universe is titled You Watch Us Run. most of the stories will feature a younger River getting to know the Doctor (mostly Eleven) better. it's possible that i post these stories out of order, but there's a time line for reference on my profile page. special thank you to my lovely betas persiflage_1 and themirrorofsin.
YOU WATCH US RUN
you end when you're beginning;;
He's running away from an imprudent marriage, but then, when did he ever resist a redhead? He aims the TARDIS for some date in the future – anywhere but Elizabethan England to be honest, but when he stumbles out of the doors, he has no idea where he is. It's a dark starry night on top of a hill, and there's someone waiting for him.
"River," he huffs, lips pursed to say something more, or just, you know, run, but then she turns.
"Hello, sweetie," she smiles, same red curly hair as when he last saw her, a few years younger maybe.
"What—" He shakes his head and looks around. This is not what he was aiming for. "How—"
"Let's be on our way, shall we?" River bounds straight past him towards the doors of the TARDIS. She's courteous enough to wait for him before going inside.
"I—" he hesitates, because he's been summoned by the Ood, and it's about time he got going. But then he doesn't want this to end, him to end. He doesn't want to go. So he just shrugs, and opens the doors for the woman that knows him better than he knows himself.
Once inside, River halts abruptly in her tracks. "What's wrong?" he asks.
"I've never seen her like this," River answers. It must be true then, his song is coming to an end. River walks over to the console, stroking the controls like only he has previously done. She does seem to know the TARDIS intimately enough to call her a she.
"River—" he starts, but he can hardly tell her that he has no idea who she is. Sometime in the future he'll trust her enough to tell her his name, but now, with his song ending, that could change. It breaks his hearts, because he'd made her the unspoken promise not to rewrite any lines.
"Don't worry," River says, turning towards him again. "You told me to go easy on you." She soothes his unuttered worries. So no spoilers then, no glimpses into an impossible future for him. He can almost see why they're his rules.
And now, nearing his own end, he knows just where to take her.
"River, what's your middle name?" he asks, legs dangling precariously over the edges of his time machine, just like River's. They're staring out over the making of an entirely new galaxy, redshifting and nucleosynthesizing right in front of their eyes.
River glances at him sideways, her eyes red and blue and green, and he wonders if she'll tell him at all. "Allison," she answers after long moments have passed. He wonders if she's telling him the truth.
But so it was, at the very end of the universe and another starting anew, that he writes her name in the stars. If not a future, then perhaps he can give her this one token.
He hates repeats. It's bad enough that he has to relive past hurts he refuses to forget whenever one of his companions asks him about his history, his race, his home. Long gone destroyed.
He probably hates goodbyes even more though, because he's absolutely rubbish at them. There's never enough time, there are never enough words in the whole of space-time to convey the proper sentiments. In all his travels, he's never once found the perfect goodbye.
He says goodbye to most of them from a distance. He's protecting Donna from her mind burning up, and anyway, she's married now, Temple-Noble, she doesn't need him anymore. He introduces Jack to Alonso, because his Captain is hurting too, and he knows just how to help that. Martha and Mickey-the-idiot have other things to worry about, and even so, what could he possibly say to Martha?
It's his way of saying goodbye; he wonders if the next man that goes sauntering away will be the same.
One more to go, he thinks, but the TARDIS is inclined to disagree. Instead of 2005, the Powell Estate, she takes him to the young 52nd century. He thinks it's a bad idea, even when his trainers hit the grass outside. She's his future and he's her past, two parts of time and space meeting out of order.
It's not a hill he lands on this time, but next to a little cottage on the meadows of Meandor 3. He recognises it because once upon a time he'd brought—yeah, it makes sense for her to live here.
"River." He speaks the name to himself alone.
"You're not staying?" River appears from the house, carrying a tray with tea and biscuits. He wonders if she knows that the tannin molecules in the tea will help ease his pain. She probably does. "I brought your favourite."
"I don't have a favourite," he says, putting his hands in his pockets. He shouldn't stay. He shouldn't want to stay. But he does.
"Not yet," River smiles, and sits down on the grass, the light from the veranda illuminating an otherwise dark night. Meandor 3 doesn't have any moons.
"I've come to say goodbye."
"I know." River pours him tea without looking at him.
He sits down next to her. "I'm beginning to wonder if there's anything you don't know."
River chuckles. "At this very moment there are few things I don't know about you." But he knows for himself there will always be secrets. If not his own, then hers. "Time will come though, not too long for you, where it'll be the other way around."
He doesn't say he's looking forward to that time, simply because he won't be the same man. "Where—" he starts, and looks back towards the house. He's tempted to take a peek inside, but he won't.
"Asleep," River answers.
"Who— who will I become?" he asks, staring down at his hands, his fingers trembling around his teacup. He can feel it crawling right underneath his skin, life anew and death at the same time.
"The exact same man you've always been," she lies. He suspects he'll be someone close to her Doctor. The thought of that comforts him. "The best man I've ever known." Not a lie.
He manages a smile. "Spoilers," he says.
"Sneak preview," River corrects. He gets the distinct feeling it won't be the last time he will hear her say that. River leans in closer, and plants one firm kiss to his lips. It's as close to a perfect goodbye as he's ever got.
She doesn't say goodbye.
Neither does he.
He hates goodbyes.
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