A/N: little jess: Thank you for reviewing! Positive reviews never fail to make me smile. ^_^
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Chapter 2: The Talk, Interrupted
He dashes through the corridors in the TARDIS, and she is at his heels when they barge down the metal steps of the control room. Amy is swinging slightly in the jump chair as Rory sits next to her on the ground. They look up through the glass floor under the main controls as two sets of feet clang against metal.
The doctor works at the controls, twisting knobs and pushing buttons Amy and Rory, almost a year later, can't quite identify all of their purposes and yanks the lever up. "Where are we going?" Amy asks, poking her head out.
"Nowhere," River says. She crosses her arms at the Doctor.
In reply, he tilts the screen down so Amy and Rory can clearly see. Amy jumps up and Rory trails behind her, up to the main floor. It reads well into the 51rst century. "Stormcage?" Rory asks.
"I'm not going anywhere," River says to the Doctor. Her eyes soften. "I'm not leaving you like this." In the history of their asynchronous relationship, she learned not to leave the Doctor after an altercation. She never knew which version of her Doctor to expect—worse, the ramifications of stumbling, seething with anger, upon a Doctor she hadn't had the fight with yet.
"Back to Stormcage, River." He's not looking at River, her face darkening, or Amy and Rory, both watch the argument with confusion blatantly splayed on their faces, but down at the controls of the TARDIS. His fingers tremble as he forces them into fists.
"Mum, Dad, I think you should leave." River rests a hand on the Doctor's shoulders. They're shaking beneath the layers of clothes. Rory nods immediately and beckons Amy to follow him.
"What's going on?" Amy steps further into the argument. When the Doctor fails to meet her gaze, she prods, "Doctor? Raggedy Man?" She averts her narrowed eyes to River. "Melody?"
River faces Amy at the use of her former name. She smiles, hoping the gesture will lighten her tone.
"Amy, please." It's the use of her given name rather than the nicety of a maternal title that halts Amy's attempt. She stumbles—her vision clears, and she sees the Doctor barely repressing emotion—as Rory catches her arm. She lets her gaze linger on River, an attempt to encapsulate every iota of parental concern in one look, as Rory guides her up the same stairs the Doctor and River clanged down.
When dual footsteps walk down the hallway, and disappear into silence around a corner, River clenches her fingers into the Doctor's shoulders nails biting into tweed. "I'm not going anywhere, Doctor. Talk to me. What's wrong?"
He's bent over, clutching the edge of the control panel as if it is the only thing keeping him upright. His face is pale, and River can see beads of sweat forming on his forehead as she leans into him—an embrace of reassurance.
"Aurgh!" His hands slap noisily on random buttons. "Leave it be, River!"
"I can't." She wraps her arms around him, whispers into his ear. "Let me in."
He spins around, glares. "My future; your past. Don't you already know?" He smirks.
Her next words, like ice, freeze the smugness off his face. "Yes, sweetie."
Despite the sweat dribbling down his cheek, the Doctor shivers at the frost in her words. He never thought the euphemism could be spoken with so much antipathy. He scrunches his nose: an expression of curiosity despite the fear swirling molten hot in his belly. "You…do…?"
He braces himself for the inevitable slap, the angry words, the remonstration of his self, and he falters when nothing comes. He realizes the hands wrapped around him are trembling, and wetness soaks his undershirt. River's head is buried in his chest, and she is silently crying. The fear churns with guilt, worry, apprehension—a whole array of unpleasant emotions he usually distracts himself from with the next greatest valiant quest wherein he or one of his companions almost die. He's only ever seen River cry once before.
"I'm not dying," he says at last, as images of an older (but deceptively younger in appearance) Professor River Song saying goodbye with a solitary tear shed just before her sacrifice.
A crack, then sharp pinpricks flooding outwards from the point of impact, pain and heat well up on his cheek. There's the expected slap. River glowers up at him, her face wet with tears and eyes blazing ire. Her breath comes in ragged gasps. "You idiot." But her melancholy tone cannot convey anger, and he wants to squirm out of her grasp and run far away from this.
He almost sags in relief when he hears the familiar sound of the TARDIS landing (for an instant he is disappointed by River's lack of commentary on his 'driving abilities'). River's face, the drooping expression, the baleful parting of her lips in an unvoiced query, as she stares into his eyes nearly coerces him to roll up his sleeves and have this talk with her. Nearly.
He drags River by a hand to the front of the TARDIS amidst her protests and wide eyed accusation of betrayal. "When did you—"
"I'm sorry." He opens the door, gently pushing River towards the exit.
She flips their dynamic around, forcing him to step into the prison cell with her. "Don't do this, Doctor! You can't—"
His lips thin. He gives her one last sorrowful glance, then turns around and returns, shutting the navy blue door on her.