DISCLAIMER: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC, much as I may wish otherwise. Long live the Moff!
Author's Note: Yes, I'm (temporarily) back, and yes, I watch Doctor Who now. Set some time during the sixth series, when the Doctor and River already know each other quite well. Largely inspired by Silence in the Library; potential spoilers for Journey's End plus a very minor reference to The Angels Take Manhattan, nothing really major though.
Fic ahoy; onwards!
He skips several paces ahead, twirling around so that they face each other, his grin blinding as he walks backwards, gaze darting to their surroundings every now and then to check for any innocent bystander who hasn't gained enough good sense yet to steer clear of their path.
No, despite what the interstellar rumour mill might be saying by now, the Doctor does notactually have eyes on the back of his head, though River must also concede that it does seem to be the case at times.
In fact, maybe - just maybe - she might have been the one to proclaim as much to a pub three thousand years ago and as many worlds away, but that was a different story altogether.
She stifles a chuckle as the aforementioned Time Lord lights up with the all the exuberance of a child for whom the universe still held wonders even after centuries of travelling.
"I know, I know! Let me bring you to this hilltop, you can see the most amazing stars from there - "
She nearly walks right into him as he stops, words halting as abruptly as his steps, the giddy excitement on his face draining away to be replaced by ashen pale.
Before she can quite decide how to react, the Doctor stumbles forward, jerking her back the way they'd came, his stare transfixed on the street corner just a few feet away.
Wordlessly, River complies, tugging on his hand gently but insistently until they reach a small, nondescript alley which they can duck into without attracting undue notice. He follows her automatically, harsh breaths loud in her ear as he almost collapses against the wall opposite her.
She waits, wanting to speak yet knowing well enough not to, watching in a tense, worried silence as he leans his head back against the rough brick, closing his eyes in an effort to calm himself. River hasn't seen him so rattled since Manhattan, when her parents -
Enough, she tells herself firmly, stopping that train of thought right in its tracks. Carefully, she leans forward, brushing a hand lightly over the back of his.
He opens his eyes slowly, gaze focusing on her. "River," he says softly, expression clouded with grief and disbelief and a thousand other emotions that she cannot name but identifies with all too well.
"Doctor, what happened?" she asks, just loud enough to be heard over the general hubbub that accompanies the lunch hour rush of office workers. "Are you all right?"
"I - yes, I am, of course I'm all right, I'm always all right." He laughs humourlessly at something that she can only guess at, although she is relieved to see some of the dark sadness leave his eyes with the words. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but we have to leave now."
River is already tapping the screen of her Vortex Manipulator with quick, practised movements before he is done speaking. "Will tonight be enough?"
She'd prefer to go further, really, but she doesn't want to risk being too far from the TARDIS, time or space-wise.
He nods. "She shouldn't be here by then."
"Alright. Hold on," she says unnecessarily, because they are such old hands at this, he hardly needs the warning to reach for her hand before they're both whisked away in the familiar blur of time warping and twisting around them both.
The alley is much darker than how they left it, the bustling streets silent now that most of the offices were vacant for the day.
"Right, then." She strides out of the alley, heading back the way they came just hours earlier. "Are you going to talk about it, or am I going to have to force it out of you?"
"Talk? About what?" The careless, light-hearted words are only betrayed by the briskness of his own steps beside her, speaking volumes of his urgency to get away from this place.
"The person that you saw," she answers matter-of-factly, unwilling to play this game with him right now. The Doctor might believe that running away was the best solution to all his problems, but she didn't quite agree on that point, and definitely not when there didn't seem to be any immediately life-threatening danger to run from. "Who was she?"
"Getting jealous, River?" His voice is yet again unaffectedly flirtatious, and she could well have been convinced if she was dealing with someone who didn't already have more than a millennium's worth of practice at this. "I'm not seeing another woman, if that's what you're wondering."
His cheerful grin withers under her patient and very pointed stare. "You pushed me back because you didn't want to let her see us. Why not?"
"Spoilers," he answers at long last, voice rough as broken glass, as if all the years of his life have been realised in just that one word.
River frowns minutely - both of them are always careful to near-paranoid extents about keeping their timelines as they are, so it strikes her as distinctly unlikely that the Doctor would knowingly bring her to somewhere significant, somewhere they'd been to before, unless…
"Not for me," she breathes aloud, eyes widening as last piece of the puzzle clicks into place. "For her."
He doesn't actually confirm nor deny her guess, but the wistful sigh is answer enough for her. "I couldn't let her see you, River. She won't know my face, not thisface, but if she sees yours… I can't let her, River, not for as long as she lives, as long as I want her to live. It was stupid of me to come anywhere near here at all, but I didn't think -"
River digests this information as she walks beside him. She's familiar with the secrets made necessary by time travel - they both are, this relationship is proof enough of that - but this sounds far more severe than than the usual precautions against foreknowledge, or even paradox.
"Who isshe, Doctor?"
He's silent for a while longer, and she begins to wonder if he will even answer the question at all. It doesn't seem to concern their collective jumble of timelines, so there isn't any actual reason for him to keep it from her, but…
She wants to know.
Part of it is curiosity, River will admit as much, because there is hardly anything more intricately fascinating than the life of this man that she knows much better than anyone yet still understands so little of. But most of it is the deep, nagging feeling that this is something that ought to be brought out into the open and talked about, not kept tucked away in yet another of the unending corners of his mind.
The Doctor is very alike to his TARDIS in that way, bigger on the inside and full of hidden things that pop out right when you're least expecting them.
And River also knows that there have been times, far too many times, when the Doctor is the only one left, a silent witness to deaths and wars that will always be known to no one but him, because he never tells anyone else.
So his answer, when it does come, is unexpected.
"Her name is Donna Noble." He tilts his head up to the skies, light of a thousand stars reflecting in old, tired eyes. "And she was my best friend."
END
2nd Author's Note: This is my first longer work for Doctor Who - do tell me what you think!
3rd (and last!) Author's Note: No, I haven't abandoned the DC/MK fandom, I'm just having some issues with writing right now, and I've been bitten by all the Doctor Who plunnies recently, so I figured that some writing was better than no writing at all. Hope you enjoyed it, and see you next time!