A message to my faithful readers: Hello, my dear readers! I'm alive! I have not updated in AGES for ANYTHING and I apologize for that! Don't give up on me quite yet! I just wanted to slide this A/N in here to let you know that I have NOT stopped writing nor have I given up on The Worst Game to Play, The Boy With the Bread, or Our Story. They've just been temporarily put on hold. Er…for an extended period of time. So don't give up on me yet! I'm still writing (I've got some fabulous ideas for some Doctor Who stories). And I'm not dead, so you can expect to hear more from me!
PS-If you are loyal enough to cross fandoms from my posted Harry Potter/Hunger Games stuff to Doctor Who just to read more from me, than you are awesome and I love you, faithful reader!
~gfg
I don't own Doctor Who. OBVIOUSLY.
The Spotter's Guide
The Doctor's Other Tenth Face
There was only once I met him. Only once. I will never, ever forget that meeting. It was the only time I've seen the Doctor so completely shattered. Broken. Heartbroken.
I was old, and he was old. So old. Not just the 900 year old Time Lord old, but old. His face had aged, but I recognized the eyes. Those old, old eyes that were so kind and so fierce. The Oncoming Storm. When I met him, he was every inch the Oncoming Storm.
He'd lost her. I could see it in his eyes he'd lost her. He'd lost Rose Tyler. Again. Forever, this time. My heart broke when I saw his heart break.
I'd managed to cross the void and enter his world. It was difficult, tricky. I'd managed to do so without tearing a hole in the universe, but only just. And I'd arrived just when he needed me the most.
I'd landed on a grassy knoll. It was raining. Luckily, I'd worn my black trench coat and my favorite black fedora, my wild hair tucked neatly underneath it. I'd just left 1940's Manhattan. I'd just lost my parents. I'd just spent my time as Melody Malone and said my final goodbyes to my mother. Amelia Pond, the girl who waited.
And I'd just left the Doctor.
I'd just left it all behind. Programmed my vortex manipulator to take me somewhere, anywhere, just away from there. And then I'd had an idea, a brilliant, wonderful, mad idea. I'd used the energy the Angels had used to close off the 1940's and slipped through the worlds. I'd ended up in Manhattan, but a Manhattan with zeppelins in the air and a world that I'd never been to before. I used the vortex manipulator to pop home. England. And I'd landed right where I'd needed to be.
Like I'd said before, I landed on a grassy knoll somewhere in the English countryside. It was beautiful. Perfect, really. Aside from the rain. Not a terrible, stormy day. Not a light sprinkle. But a sad, heavy, cold rain. A rain that seeped into your bones and made you cold, so cold and sad and alone. Like him.
That grassy knoll I'd landed on…it was covered in headstones. Crumbling, gray headstones. A graveyard. Of all places I could land, I'd landed in a graveyard. And that's when I saw him.
There was a funeral going on, a burial. The crowd wasn't big. But what it lacked in size made up for in grief. I watched, from the shadows of an old willow tree. I watched as the priest spoke to the weeping crowd. I watched as they huddled underneath the blue tent, where roses poured out from under it on all sides. I watched as the priest left. I watched as the small crowd shrouded in black dispersed, one by one. Some of them in fancy, expensive cars. Others in military style jeeps. But all with identical looks of grief.
I watched until there was just one man left. One tall, broken man left. His normally all-over the place brown hair had fallen flat and had also turned gray from the last time I saw him at Asgard. His clothing was different, his normally pinstripe brown or blue suit replaced with one so black that it would have made deep space look gray. His usual long, brown coat with the blue lining replaced by a similar one in black.
But his face was so much darker than his clothing. His expression, so dark. His face was so pale, had lost all of its color. Had lost all hope. He looked all of 900 years old. So old. So sad. So alone.
He did not look up as I came up behind him, though I knew he heard me. My heels sank into the ground as I took a moment to look at the arrangement. A deep blue casket, heavy, sturdy, decorated in beautiful designs. Covered in roses, pink and yellow. To the right of it, a portrait. A photograph of her smiling face. Below it, a name. Rose Marion Tyler. Born, 1986. Died, 2056. Seventy years old. On this day and age, and for someone who had absorbed the Time Vortex and aged so slowly, it was too young. Much, much too young.
"It was an accident," his voice, so quiet, carried over the rain. "It was my fault."
I didn't know what to say to this. I didn't know what had happened. And, knowing the Doctor, I knew his blame was not entirely unjustifiable. I knew he had a TARDIS. It was highly probably something terrible had happened. The worst possible thing.
"I took her there, Syracorn-5. She'd wanted to go for ages. But I mucked up the dates. Old age, and this…this...this ordinary human life…catching up with me. We arrived right in the middle of a war and they…they…" he choked on his words. I heard the terrible, terrible grief in his voice. He gave a great sniff before composing himself. "Anyway, gone now."
I didn't know why he was telling me this, he hadn't even looked around to see who I was. He couldn't possibly know that his wife from another universe had just arrived to his other wife's funeral. But maybe, on some level, he sensed it. Sensed that the mysterious River Song had finally returned. He'd met me only once before, I knew. When my end had come. When I'd made that final trip to the Library. At least, that was what this version of him remembered. This version of him had lived without me. He'd never had all those adventures I promised him. He'd never met me again. It hurt to imagine he could live without me, but in this universe he had Rose. And for him, that was everything.
"I'm so sorry for your loss," I said, my voice reflecting all the sympathy I had for him. Which was everything I had. I hated seeing the Doctor in pain. It hurt. I'd just left one grieving Doctor for another grieving Doctor. I loved the man, I loved every part and every one of him. I wished, as I had wished multiple times throughout all our complicated relationship, that I could take his pain away.
He'd cocked his head at my voice, turned slightly. So he remembered, then.
My heels having sunk all the way into the soft earth now, I'd needed an excuse to move. I unstuck them and took slow steps towards the casket. I stooped as soon as I'd reached it, picked out the most beautiful pink rose I could find from the damp bouquets. I gently shook it out and placed it tenderly on the coffin. I ran one hand over the smooth, cold blue surface, sighing sadly, then turned. I finally made eye contact with the Doctor.
He definitely remembered me, I could see it on his face. He'd met me before, though I had yet to meet this particular him. This human him. His eyes, once you got past the overwhelming sorrow and grief and pain, were sparked with that curious wonder I loved so well. One of the small comforts of his early days, before he really knows who I am. This Doctor would never know.
"River? River Song?"
I smiled at him.
"Hello, Sweetie," I replied, slightly subdued. I have a spark of class, you know. I may be the Doctor's wife, but Rose Tyler was also his wife, and his love, so I knew just how unclassy it would be for me to behave too forward toward the grieving widower.
I also knew it would hurt him. And that was something I was not willing to do.
"How…What…Why…?" he stammered, still in shock at my presence. I held up my vortex manipulator in answer.
"Took me where I needed to be. Even if where I needed to be was another world."
"So you came from the other world. Where we came from. Me and Rose. Originally."
"Yes."
"But…then that means the wall of the worlds are breaking down again! You could rip a hole in reality, River!"
"No. It's just me. There's no way through but for me."
His eyebrows drew together in confusion. My poor Doctor. How little he knew. He stared at me like I was a whole new thing, a whole new puzzle to solve. I smiled. That was the Doctor I wanted to see.
"Who are you, River Song?" he asked wonderingly.
"Spoilers," I answered automatically.
"Not really, River," he muttered. "Not for me."
He was right, of course. This Doctor could never return to that other universe. This Doctor had only one heart. This Doctor had never had nor would have any adventures with me. This Doctor was human. This Doctor, I could tell everything.
The implications of that caught my breath, and I drifted off into a selfish fantasy of being able to talk to him about it all, about everything, telling him everything, and him knowing everything. Everything about me that I have to keep secret from my Doctor.
But then, reality check. Rose's dead body was in front of us. It was about him and her, and not about me. I could never be so selfish. I couldn't. He loved her with all his one heart, and, (if I was being completely honest with myself) all of his other two hearts. And this Doctor, well, he'd never, ever really know me.
"It doesn't matter," I replied in a whisper. "I can't tell you who I am. You wouldn't really understand, anyway. Such things are better lived than told. And…and as tempted as I am to make this trip about me, it isn't. It's about you. You and Rose."
And then that small spark went out, his face falling again into lines of misery, the age falling back into his eyes, the pain. His eyes flickered back to the casket. He walked toward me, toward the casket, placed a shaking hand on it. Closed his eyes in pain. Oh, how I wanted to reach out and comfort him. Hug him. Hold him. Even just touch his arm and let him know he was not so alone as he thought. Not for the moment, anyway. Not while I was with him.
"Just answer me this," he said after a long moment. "Why here, why now?"
I took my time answering. I really didn't know why here, why now, only that this was where I was. With the Doctor. Right where I should be.
"I said before. This is where I needed to be."
"Yes but…" he glanced over at my face, knowing I was not giving anything away. "Oh, fine then. Be all enigmatic."
I smirked. I loved this Doctor's lip. His face fell back to the casket. After several long moments in which neither of us spoke, his cracked voice reached my ears.
"I can't believe she's gone."
I looked over at him in concern and alarm to see he was now in tears. He was shaking, both hands on the casket, knuckles white. Unwilling to let Rose go. And could I blame him? He was a man who'd had happiness ripped out from under him so many times that it made me believe that the universe never, ever made deals. That no matter how many times he'd save the universe, the universe would always deal him the worst hand possible. He'd made sure I never believed in Karma, good or bad. Because how could someone so good and wonderful be so unlucky and so alone? No, I couldn't blame him.
Seeing him so hurt brought tears to my eyes. Gosh, I was getting soft in my old age. But I suppose, where the Doctor was concerned, I always had a bit of a soft spot.
That hand I wanted to place on him so badly finally won out, and I reached toward him. He didn't shake me off. Didn't even respond except his tears increased in quantity. I gave his arm a tight squeeze.
"I'm sorry, Doctor. I'm so sorry."
It was then that his legs no longer seemed able to support him, and he fell to the ground. His hands still gripped Rose's coffin, and I caught him as he fell, kneeling with him. Comforting him was worth a bit of water on my pants. He turned to me, leaned into me, and I placed comforting arms around his tall, thin form. He sobbed, eyes glued to Rose's coffin.
"It's all my fault, River. All my fault. I lost her, I lost her. I can't believe she's gone. It's all my fault."
He said this, over and over again, his voice filled with such anguish. Another loss. Another day. Another Doctor. Had it only been a few hours ago I'd left the other Doctor, so quietly mourning and filled with grief for Amy and Rory? It was just so different, this Doctor's grief and the other's, that it struck me. It was different. My parents were different. Oh, he loved them just as much. But not like Rose. Rose's death was crippling. Especially for this Doctor, when she was the only thing he'd had in this world.
It hurt. I won't lie, it hurt. I hurt when he hurt. And he'd never hurt this much. Not ever.
I stayed with him…how could I not?...I stayed with him until he seemed to have run out of tears. After what was ages, he finally stood. He placed one loving hand over the coffin, right where Rose's head would be, and leaned down to give it a gentle kiss. Then, with his eyes closed tightly, he turned, and walked away. I followed him, looping my arm in his and he allowed me this, letting me comfort him. We walked to the very edge of the graveyard where a familiar blue box stood. I smiled at the familiar sight. Even in a parallel world, it was good to know some things never changed.
"You'll be impressed to know I can do this now, River." And sure enough, with a snap of his fingers, the Doctor opened the TARDIS doors. I couldn't help but smile. He sauntered off into his TARDIS, though lacking the spring in his step. Almost exactly like my Doctor.
I looked around as I stepped inside. He'd changed the desktop format. Or, he will have changed it. But he mistook my admiring the TARDIS's interior for shock. After all, from his perspective, I'd never seen it before.
"Welcome to the TARDIS, River Song. Stands for—"
"Time And Relative Dimension In Space. Yes, I know, Doctor. And no, I'm not going to make some completely unnecessary remark about her being bigger on the inside."
The Doctor looked flabbergasted. I couldn't help but smirk.
"Right," he said, trying to recover some sense of his usual control of the situation. "Well, just don't touch anything."
I rolled my eyes. I knew how to fly the old girl better than he did. Part of me wondered how this Doctor would react if I told him the truth, about me being the child of the TARDIS, that I knew how to fly her, and I got a bit of amusement out of that, but I said nothing.
Instead, I joined him at the console. He flipped some switches and then looked across the console at me.
"Will you travel with me, River?" he asked, in a voice I'm sure he meant to be arrogant, but came out as small and sad. It reminded me so much of only a few days ago, when he posed me that very same question with a different face. A face that went along with a bow tie instead of a face that went with pinstripes. I looked down at the TARDIS console, debating. On one hand, I probably shouldn't spend anymore time in a parallel world than I had to. But on the other hand, my Doctor needed me. My Doctor was in pain. My Doctor just lost his Rose all over again.
"Whenever and wherever you want, Sweetie," I answered quietly.
He didn't look happy. I doubted this Doctor would ever again be happy. But he did look somewhat satisfied. Somewhat less lonely. I think part of him just wanted to stave off the barrage of loneliness he was surely going to feel when Rose's passing really hit him. But for now, this Doctor wanted to run. Run, and run and run. And I'd run with him, if he wanted me to. If he needed me to.
"But I can't stay forever. Only a little while."
"I know," he said quietly. "I know. But—" He fell quiet, and I looked up at him. His chocolate-brown eyes met mine across the console. The faint lines around his eyes crinkled in the smallest ghost of a smile.
"Thank you," he said.
I had one adventure with him. And then I was gone. But I'd never, ever forget him. How sad and lonely he was. How happy he could have been.
That was how I met the Meta-Crisis Doctor.
A/N: So, this is just a one-shot for now. I thought, you know, I loved River and the tenth Doctor together in Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead. They were adorable. And if you go back, after you know River's story, have seen everything, and watch it again, it just makes you cry.
So, I had a bit of a curiosity for a while about what River/10.5 would be like together. They wouldn't be a…well…10.5 belongs with Rose. Not River. But she'd still be a bit of a puzzle to him and obviously he remembers her from The Library. This one-shot is a bit AU from my own personal head canon cuz I think Rose and the Meta-Crisis lived to a ripe old age, happily ever after. But this scene popped into my head and I just sorta went with it.
I have a few other drabbles about River Song meeting different Doctors at different points in time. She said she'd had 'The Spotter's Guide,' after all. So I thought that would be fun to write about. This is just a one-shot for now, and if inspiration strikes me for another of the Doctor's faces (probably the fourth…I'm in the middle of making my way through Classic Who and I'm on Tom Baker and Romana I right now. Love it. He's brilliant. HOW does he keep himself from CONSTANTLY tripping over that scarf? And yes I do want a Jelly Baby :P) then I might post it.
I've got about half of her meeting Ten written… I assume that the only times River met him was at their 'Picnic at Asgard' which she'd mentioned in Silence of the Library, and of course the Library. And I've got a few scenes with Eleven, written from when she was a baby (written as if she could remember them). I probably won't post them yet because they're not exactly finished.
So, anyway, that's it. Hope you enjoyed it and please leave a review!
~gfg
