I: Come in, Stranger
Stormcage had two seasons - cold rain and hot rain, and this was the cold season. The damp crept into everything without respite - the metal of the cot frame as River huddled under thin blankets, the chill in her fountain pen as her numb fingers tried to write an entry in her diary. There was but one small heating vent in her cell, which she reserved for warming her socks.
In the cold season, the daily shower was an absurd ritual, both relished and feared. Stripping off ones clothes and standing naked in a too-large, drafty tiled room seemed contrary to logic. River couldn't help but shiver as her feet went numb on the cold, wet floor. When the water first started, it was barely lukewarm and not inviting at all. But if she could endure the first minute or so, she was rewarded with a slice of heaven. She took as long as the guards would allow, standing under a scalding cascade that first warmed her and then eased her tight, aching muscles. It only took a minute or two for River's scowl to turn into a grin as she worshipped at the steaming fountain.
Today, though, she hadn't yet rinsed her hair when she heard a thud and a creak, seemingly emanating from the plumbing. Not long enough! River cursed and waited for the inevitable rush of cold as the hot water ran out.
She stuck her head under the spray, rinsing quickly before reaching for the faucet, opting to switch it off before the shock of ice-cold water rained down on her.
Except, the pipes yelped.
River spun around, crouched in a defensive position. When she saw the intruder, she blinked in shock and straightened. Before her stood her husband, dressed in sodden (but fetching) top hat and tails. He wiped his dark, wet fringe from his eyes and focused on her, "Oh, River, it's you. Good. Hi honey, I'm home."
River choked back a laugh. "You certainly know how to make an entrance." She turned off the tap, and stood watching him, a hand on her hip.
His eyes darted downwards, and, as if just now noticing her nakedness, dilated comically. He gave a start, but she noticed his gaze lingering over her curves.
She raised an eyebrow, "Enjoying the show?"
"Yes," he said in a high-pitched squeal, bringing his gaze to meet hers. It drifted down again. "I mean no. But yes... um, are you the only one in here?"
"Aside from the guards outside? Yes," she eyed him expectantly. Belatedly, he removed his jacket and offered it to her. She shook her head and smiled softly, reaching for a thin, rough towel instead. She plucked the sodden hat from his head and shook it. Rivulets of water hit the floor, and she took a moment to mourn her (only) favourite hat of his. "To what do I owe this surprise visit?"
"Oh, right," he cleared his throat. "Let me take you away. For a night out. A... date," he said conspiratorially.
She blinked, surprised. When are they? She'd need to find out, but right now he was much too fun to wind up. She leaned toward him, voice low, "That sounds like a fabulous idea. But don't you think you should let me get dressed first?"
"Oh, right. Yes. I mean, pity, but," he slapped his hand against his brow in frustration at his own ineptitude. "Sorry, this isn't going as planned." He snapped his fingers and the TARDIS doors opened, and he made a grand gesture towards the time ship. "Your chariot - and her wardrobe - await."
"Well, hello Sweetie," River waltzed into the TARDIS as if she were wearing an evening gown instead of a towel.
The Doctor followed River as she swept into the TARDIS. He closed the doors behind him, and leant against them. The weight of the new screwdriver in his pocket dragged his hearts to the floor, anchoring him in place. He watched River, so vibrant and so alive, walk up the ramp. The prison-issue soap overwhelmed her natural scent, and he found himself anxious for it to wear off. Her feet left a trail of little wet footprints on the glass.
She glanced over her shoulder, eyebrow arched. "Are you coming? Or are you just going to stand there and stare?"
"Hm?" The Doctor stirred and focused again on River, or at least, River in the here and now.
She winked at him, and his hearts skipped a beat. She trailed her hand along the console as she read the scanner readouts. "You pre-entered our destination - that's uncharacteristically organised of you. Darillium. There are towers that sing? How intriguing." Her eyes lit with curiosity, and in her distraction the towel slipped a few inches down her torso.
He walked slowly up the ramp, mind racing. Not now. She couldn't die; he couldn't send her to her death. Instead, he found himself yearning to reach out to touch her, feel her warmth under his hands.
He shook his head, clearing it. Rule 408: Time is Not the Boss of Me. Striding forward, he grabbed the scanner and pulled it aside, just as she released it to hike up her towel.
"Singing towers? BORING!" he announced, "Where would you like to go, River Song?"
"The towers sound thrilling... " She eyed him speculatively. "But if you're in the mood for something different, how about this?" She recaptured the scanner from him and moved to the navigation panel, typing in keystrokes on the ancient typewriter built-in to the console. The TARDIS hummed into motion. "Not exactly the sort of evening you had planned, but..."
Relieved, he bounded up to stand beside her at the controls. His mind was made up - he would go anywhere, anywhen. Just not Darillium. Not today. "I'm sure it's loads better than what I had planned. Ooh, look, archaeology?"
"Well, I am an archaeologist. I suppose I should start acting like one."
"Quite right, too. You know what this means?"
She leaned against him and lowered her voice. "No, tell me, what does this mean?"
He tapped her nose with his index finger, "I'm off to find my tweed!"
She rolled her eyes and headed for the TARDIS wardrobe.
River eagerly surveyed the wardrobe, which was less a closet and more a series of dressing rooms. Racks of clothing from every time period (and practically every culture) lined each wall. She shook her head, "All of this, and he only wears one outfit." Well, two, if you counted the dinner jacket. He'd looked quite fetching tonight, despite the drenching.
River flicked through the clothing, looking for something suitable for the rough terrain and wild weather of the Moon of Orr. "Hmmm... fleece... cloak? No, too cumbersome." She settled on a blue fleece sweater and matching wool jacket. Heavy, durable fabric that would withstand the elements.
She chuckled again at the image of the Doctor, fine eveningwear soaked, a rueful expression on his face. He'd seemed like an overgrown puppy in his excitement.
She picked out a pair of knee high black boots.
He'd obviously had a more refined destination in mind. She wondered if he'd enjoy scrabbling about the rocks and digging in the dirt with her.
River grinned at the thought. Despite his rough-and-tumble lifestyle, the Doctor seldom allowed himself to be ruffled, as if it would take something truly momentous to set his bowtie askew. Her grin widened. "I can do that." Her smile faded as she remembered the intense looks he'd been giving her ever since arriving at Stormcage.
Normally, she'd be flattered by his regard, but this was different. Almost as if he were seeing her for the first time, or not seeing her at all. She let out a frustrated grunt. He'd been extremely Doctorish tonight: cute, charming, a whirling dervish. And yet, he'd said nothing of substance, hadn't even thought to compare notes on their respective timelines.
And she had the vague and nagging sense that he was running. From what, or to what, she had no idea. It set her teeth on edge, like the cloister bell in the TARDIS sounding a warning: Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Still, perhaps this trip was just the thing to shake him out of his malaise.
She found a utility belt stuffed in a corner and unrolled it. Brown leather, worn with use. She clipped it around her waist and began filling it with odds and ends: geographic micro scanner, a torch, hammer and chisel.
Satisfied, she left the wardrobe, a spring in her step and her mind full of the possibilities of Orr. It was time to show him who River Song really was.
Her course set, River was striding purposefully to the control room when she felt it, a ripple of free-floating irritation mixed with anxiety. She touched the corridor wall, felt the minute changes in the hum of the TARDIS. "Good Lord, what is he doing up there?" The ripple of irritation increased. "I know, I know...I'm hurrying." She picked up her pace and skidded the last few yards into the control room as the TARDIS lurched under her feet. "What's happening?" she demanded.
The Doctor was doing his familiar manic dance around the console, flipping switches and levers. The TARDIS lurched again, and he nearly face-planted into the jumpseat. The Doctor's shoes skidded on the glass floor, but he jumped right back to the console. "The HADS activated, can't think why - ooh!" He slid again as the ship lurched in the other direction. He clung to the console to remain upright.
River ran to join him. She placed a hand on the console and felt the TARDIS hum under her fingers, like music. River frowned. There was a discordant note - just there. She tapped out commands on the ancient typewriter and read the results on the bouncing screen. "There's some sort of interference. I'm not sure - have you checked for gravity compensation?" She reached out and grabbed hold of the first thing her hand touched, a cross between an old-earth gearshift and a pocket watch. It dinged. River rolled her eyes.
"Yes I've checked for gravity compensation," The Doctor said testily. He then scrambled to the navigation panel and flipped a switch. "See, no gravity compensation, it's something... can you run a diagnostic? I'm switching to manual." He stepped and skidded to reach a point where he could access the navigation and helm controls.
River punched a few buttons and a long stream of paper spat out from underneath the console. She grabbed it and squinted at the readouts. "There's a plasma field out there. It's huge." The TARDIS shivered and River fought for balance. "No, it's two fields - three." She shook her head, "We can't land here, she won't let us." River set a series of switches, intending to reverse course, but the TARDIS squealed. "What the-?"
"We're caught in the field - no turning back! Lovely little planetoid you've found," the Doctor grinned maniacally at her. He stepped to his right, wordlessly relinquishing the navigation and diagnostic controls. She picked up where he left off, her hands moving with practised ease. She spared a moment to lay a comforting hand on the console, then braced for what she knew would come next.
"Geronimo!" The Doctor shouted just before flipping several levers, effectively disabling all the automated functions - including the safety.
The bottom dropped out of her stomach, and the TARDIS whined in protest. River hung on grimly, rapidly making the minute adjustments required to maintain orientation. To her right, the TARDIS scanner went into overdrive, spitting out information in a Gallifreyan dialect River didn't recognise. The lights flickered, and then died.
They were still flying. Her hands skimmed over the controls blindly as she tried to guide the ship by touch.
Beside her, the Doctor, brow furrowed in concentration and face buried in the viewfinder, was busy with the controls, his hands moving quickly. When the lights went out, his face was momentarily lit with the eerie glow of the viewfinder, and even that blacked out a nanosecond later.
The ship rattled and lurched, then went silent.
For a long moment, she stood still, breathing hard. And then River spoke, "iThat/i was interesting."
The Doctor laughed, "Threading the needle on manual is a lot easier when you've got a co-pilot."
"Was that a compliment?" River slid under the console. There was a sizzle and pop, and the controls lit with a warm ambient glow. A few moments later, the room itself followed suit, section by section, as she restored the emergency power.
He grinned, "Why yes, yes it was." He ran a hand through his still-damp hair and exhaled loudly. "So," he said as he swung the viewscreen to her, "is this where you wanted to be?"
She blinked at the display of unending blackness, then checked another readout. "The timezone is correct, give or take. But we're about one hundred kilometres southwest of the epicentre. She wouldn't let us materialise directly," River absently patted the console. "It's a bit darker than I imagined." Leaning closer to the screen, she thought she could make out a set of inky boulders. She shook her head. "Maybe the scanners were damaged in the landing."
"I don't think that's it - we're inside the mineshaft. That is, if my piloting was correct. And it's always correct."
River snorted, and brought the external sensors online. "Let's check environmentals first - make sure the air is breathable."
He used a panel on the console as a mirror and knotted his bowtie. "So why are were here, Dr Song? What have you got for me this time?"
"Oh, you know. Dusty ruins, mysterious circumstances ... an age-old curse." She grinned, "Seeing the past the old fashioned way, through hard work and dirt and pages of yellowed paper that take three days to translate." River batted his hands away from his bowties. "Will you stop fussing? You'll make it worse."
He allowed her to fix his bowtie, a dreamy smirk set on his face, "So we're going on a dig, that's new." He rubbed his hands together, "Does that mean I'm your team? Never been a team on a dig before, though there was that one time ..."
"Which time was that?" The console pinged, and River glanced toward the viewscreen. The outside view had been replaced by a graph. "Atmosphere thin, but breathable, more or less."
"What about gravity?"
"It's lighter than Earth standard. Radiation levels - well. It'll have to do."
"Well that's good news then. Shall we, Dr Song?" He offered her his hand.
She slid her fingers into his. "I can't wait. But aren't you forgetting something?"
"I love new planets!" he declared as he tugged out the TARDIS doors.