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Short little chapter (the next one is longer, I promise); but hope everyone enjoys...


Chapter 2: In Which the Doctor and River Come Up With a Plan

There were papers fluttering all over the control room, lists and coordinates scribbled on pages upon pages of multicoloured paper. The Doctor skipped and skidded from one to the next, reading out ideas with each new sheet he came to, occasionally adding commentary.

"Gardening? We can grow vegetables."

River wrinkled her nose. She had a sudden image of seeds everywhere; and her Doctor in dirt-smudged tweed with bowtie slightly askew, hair poking out from beneath a floppy straw hat as he gleefully doused the entire TARDIS the contents of a watering can. She shuddered slightly.

"I think we'll pass. Skydiving?"

He snorted. "Skydiving! I can fly anywhere through time and space that I choose."

"Not everyone can, sweetie."

"Says the archaeologist with the vortex manipulator."

"Speaking of which…"

"Absolutely not, no archaeology."

"It might be fun! You never give it a chance. We can go on a dig together."

It was the Doctor's turn to shudder, now. He glanced at another paper, quickly scanning for an appropriately distracting activity.

"Rabbit breeding?"

"I think they usually manage that without our help." They looked up at each other, and River was positive they were both having the same mental image: the TARDIS filled with fluffy rabbits on each surface and poking out of every room; twitching pink noses and white cottontails as far as the eye could see.

"And what would we do with them, anyway?" she asked. "Sell them to magicians when we get overrun?"

"Only the ones who own their own top hats."

The Doctor grinned and River began laughing too, turning pages and scanning her quickly jotted down notes. They had been at this for hours now, debating ideas back and forth. Her ideas were large, grandiose thoughts, that -admittedly- had something of an element of danger. (He'd already firmly vetoed car racing, deep sea scuba diving, and glacier surfing; and ignored her groans of protest.)

In exchange, his suggestions elicited one of two responses from her: yawns of boredom, or shocked incredibility. Rabbit breeding? She shook her head, mentally wondering -and not for the first time- about her husband's grasp on sanity.

"Tell me again," she asked, fixing him with a curious look. "Why exactly you've had this grand plan?"

He shrugged, rather nonchalantly and not facing her. "Thought it'd be fun, River. Something special for both of us."

"Rabbit breeding?"

"It's special, isn't it? Very different."

"Sweetie… there's different, and then there's animal husbandry."

He giggled at her statement but didn't answer… and that threw up all sorts of warning bells and whistles.

One hundred and forty-two nights she'd had with her Doctor so far… one hundred and forty-two nights of adventures and running, his clever word-patter to alleviate the trouble they inevitably found themselves in and her waving a gun when it didn't work. She knewhim by now. Knew him and cared about him and -though this had taken longer than anything else- trusted him. There was always a method to his madness, a reason for why he did the things he did…

And so she knew him well enough to know there was something he wasn't telling her, some impetus for his suggestion in the first place. There was a slight depression hidden beneath his humour, a frown beneath the giggles and light-heartedness of his suggestions. She knew it was there, but not what was prompting it… and until she did, well, it wouldn't hurt her to go along with it. At least for a little while.

Her finger traced down the page, and stopped at the bottom.

"What about skiing?" she asked then.

The Doctor spun around, mid-hop over a pile of papers and nearly crashed. When he regained his footing, he laughed, bright and exuberant. "I like it. Skiing! I know the perfect place; the Leysin resort in Switzerland." He was already at the controls, fingers flying as he hastily typed in coordinates and set them in flight.

"1988, perfect time. It had been warm all winter, and then all of a sudden in February - whoosh!" He turned to her, fingers splayed and eyes alight. "Huge snowstorm! River Song, you will love this."

She breathed out a sigh of relief, as he turned back to the controls. Relief at the thought of no more lists or the irritation that came when searching for a mutually acceptable normal activity; and relief at the thought that perhaps, she could ignore just a little longer why he'd come up with such a crazy idea in the first place.

Skiing. She could handle skiing.