50 followers! Wow. Thanks to every single one of you, you're all truly wonderful. It's my pleasure to write for you.
This chapter takes place on the same night as the previous two, save the flashback at the beginning which is evidently rather early in the Doctor's timeline. Enjoy! x
She's stayed a few times now. He doesn't have much say in the matter; she struts about like she owns the place- him included.
Sleeps in his bed, too. The nerve!
He's tried telling her that the Tardis could easily make her a room of her own. She just laughs at that. Says she doesn't need one. Apparently she's far happier invading his very personal space in every way she can possibly think of- without asking, thank you very much. Now he's reduced to grumbling about assaulted privacy while she just smiles that smile she has that makes him terrified and sort of thrilled in equal measure.
Something more than a little disturbing takes place one night. As per usual she has declared his bed in her name, and of course he's slightly afraid of finding out what happens if he doesn't allow her to do what she wants. She definitely seems to be a woman who gets her own way; he knows that if little else.
But that night he's roused from busying himself around the console, fixing things that don't need fixing and pressing buttons he doesn't know the purpose of- a risky business- by shrill screams that are enough to make his blood run cold.
When he hurtles upstairs with all the coordination of a puppy on ice, he is rather surprised to burst into the bedroom from which the screams are originating and find no aliens, no monsters- in fact, no apparent threat at all. Only River, writhing and twisting the covers around her as if in pain, with her eyes screwed shut and terrible screams bursting forth from her lungs.
He comes to the conclusion that she must be having a bad dream, and the realisation brings about a sharp pang in his chest. She doesn't seem the type to have bad dreams; not ones as severe as he assumes they are, judging by the expression on her face that is contorted in terror even in sleep.
The Doctor tiptoes forwards and perches on the very edge of the bed, prodding her awkwardly until her cries subside and her eyes fly open.
"Are you alright?" He realises it's a bit of a thick question the moment it leaves his lips. "Well- I mean, you're obviously not alright, because- because you were screaming, and alright people don't… scream…"
She's touching him. Quite firmly. Why is she quite firmly touching him?! His hands curl around the edge of the bed to prevent his body from floating up to the ceiling, as she takes it upon herself to rest her hands on his chest.
She's whispering something under her breath in a chant. She sounds possessed.
He is more than a little nervous. "River?" he prompts eventually, swallowing a lump in his throat.
She doesn't respond, just keeps on whispering the same thing over and over again.
"One two three four, one two three four, one… four, one… two… one…"
She seems to lose control, the chant slipping away into nothing as her breathing becomes shallow and sobs rise in her throat. He doesn't know what to do.
"River…"
Her hands drop from him, and her body curls up as if in defence. She mumbles something that is just about translatable as an instruction to get out.
He does as she asks, assuming she must want to be alone. Why would she tell him to get out otherwise?
But he feels a pull on his hearts when he glances back; guilt pools in his stomach, even though he doesn't entirely know why.
Her eyes are full of sadness, and he hates the way she looks at him like he doesn't understand.
Clara was still up when he hopped downstairs, full of enquiries about how his wife was faring.
"She's asleep," he clarified, aware that she clearly did not consider him fit to ensure River's wellbeing if this interrogation was anything to go by.
"Ah. Did you still have her old room?"
"No, she didn't have one. She's in my- my room."
He faltered and ruffled his hair awkwardly, abruptly realising his mistake when Clara's eyes ignited. At least she was having a fun evening, even if it was at his expense.
"Firstly. You have a bed?"
"Yes," he said slowly. "Is that a problem?"
"No, nothing," she shrugged. "I just- I thought you only did "standy-up-cat-naps"."
His eyebrows dipped at her Scottish imitation. "Was that meant to be me? That was poor."
She smirked. "Why do you need a bedroom?"
"It's not a bedroom. It's just my… room."
"It's a room… with a bed in it. Ergo it is a bedroom."
"No it's- look, there happens to be a console in this room, doesn't mean we call it the… well, stupid example. That room! That room you have, with all the squishy chairs in it, do you call that the squishy chair room?"
"You mean the living room?"
"The living room? Why on earth would you call it that- that implies that you live only in that room! What happens when you go into the kitchen, do you stop living?"
"It's just the room in which people happen to do most of their living."
"Maybe for people who never go outside," he muttered.
"So not only do you have a bedroom which frankly is shocking enough but, more importantly, you have bed in that bedroom that you share with another actual living person?"
"I'm don't share- who says I share it? I'm here, not- cuddled up under the duvet with her!"
"Right," Clara whispered, condescension lining her voice. "So I suppose you just… take turns? Have shifts?"
"Uh… yes."
"No. She'd never in a million years let you get away with that."
"Do you really think I have enough time to spend hours just- sleeping, next to someone?"
She grinned. "Oh, I never thought you slept."
He didn't like that she was now apparently immune to his menacing glares, but tried one all the same. "You are disgraceful. And it's past your bedtime, so, bye."
Clara eventually conceded, gambling up the stairs but stopping long enough to call back to him. "Doctor? I'm happy for you. I know what she meant to you, I'm… I'm glad you've got her again."
"Thank you. Be careful- it doesn't suit you, being nice like that. Your head might implode if it happens too often."
"Thanks for the advice. Maybe with River... try not to, you know. Be yourself, too much."
"That's better."
When Clara had disappeared he headed back to the room where River was sleeping, because he knew what was coming.
It was less than three hours into what passed for night on board the Tardis when the screaming came.
The Doctor was waiting next door, leafing through the pages of an old book without reading a single word. The moment the silence was pierced he placed it calmly on the shelf and made his way into the room where River lay.
A single wall separated him from her; he'd discovered the room in which he'd resided for the past three hours a very long time ago, and it hadn't taken him to conclude that the Tardis had designed it for the purpose for which he was now using it. In here, he was never far away to hear her child and help her when lost in the throes of a night terror.
The screams intensified the moment he edged the door open, and peering through the darkness he saw River's sleeping corpse rigid in terror, thrashing about the bed as if lost in a rough sea.
It was important not to wake her until she was firmly in his hold; he'd had a few narrow escapes before coming to that realisation. It was one of the most saddening things in the entire Cosmos to him, knowing her lack of security was such that her basic instinct was to shoot. Even in her Professor days, a gun still sat nestled between her pillows.
He managed to deftly curl his hands around her wrists, pulling her to sit upright and holding fast when she twisted violently in his grasp.
River's eyes snapped open when he said her name, rousing her abruptly from the demons of her dreams; he watched the stages of surprise, relief and then horror seep into her eyes in quick succession. Her reaction was characteristically volatile; although still shaking, the sheen of a cold sweat on her skin, she recoiled away from him.
He stared her down calmly through the darkness; she regarded him warily from where she sat, curled up tightly with her hands tucked under her knees. He knew why; she didn't trust herself. But he did, and that would be all she'd need on all nights like this.
"Give me your hands," he instructed, met with nothing more than her solid refusal to relent.
She shivered when he touched her. "Please don't."
"River," he coaxed gently, finding her shaking hands and cupping them tightly. "Trust me." He brought her hands up, and despite her resistance managed to place them over his chest where his hearts sat.
She watched him with a manically distrusting look in her eyes. "What are you doing?"
"Just listen. Concentrate," he soothed, keeping his hands pressed over hers and feeling his staccato double-pulse through their intertwined fingertips. "One-two-three-four, one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four…"
"Doctor, this isn't helping!"
"And not only did you just speak a complete sentence, but shouted it in a characteristically impatient manner." He smiled wryly when she looked up at him from under heavy eyelids. "I beg to differ. Now count with me. One-two-three-four, one-two-three-four…"
She joined in, a broken whisper gradually ascending into a voice more steady. They chanted together until the rosy tint returned to her cheeks and he felt the tremble drain from her fingertips.
On some nights it took hours. He never stopped, or gave up, or let go; he felt he at least owed her this, as it was the only time she ever needed- or at least, admitted to needing- comfort. After all she did for him, he would count to four a million times over if it made River a little better.
"Thank you," she whispered when she found enough breath to speak.
"It's not…" She dipped her head, burying her nose in his chest so her curls tickled his nose and made his words curdle in his head. Her hand was still clutching at his waistcoat fabric tightly, the way small children held onto grown-ups when they were afraid of falling.
He wondered momentarily if she could feel his hearts swell into a mighty drumming orchestra at her touch. It perplexed him to a degree. It would have been ridiculous, in fact, for such a feeling to linger after so long in the absence of it- if the object of his affections was anyone in this Cosmos or the next but River Song.
They'd go for months without running into each other. The moment that their timelines looped once again they'd forget they had ever been out of the other's presence. It had terrified him at first, a relationship strong enough to manage that- because it took the reason he gave for not allowing himself to grow close to someone in such a way and eradicated it. He never had to worry about River; while he had found more love in her heart than he had believed to be possible in any living creature, she had never been so human as to need him there all the time.
A thousand years didn't just fall away, of course. But then again, neither did the love that had cultivated itself over centuries, and their sporadic lives had certainly stood him in good stead for this. Although still slightly in awe that she was next to him again, simultaneously it felt like every other date they'd had; as if she had fallen asleep in this bed of theirs after one of their many days spent running across the stars, and everything was right again.
It was marvellous the amount of things that a mind could process within a moment of silence. "…Ah, a problem," he finished eventually, laying a hesitant hand on her back.
"Um…" She sat up, scrubbing her eyes tiredly. A flush ran along her cheeks; he wished he could tell her embarrassment was so far from necessary, but she'd find that out in time for herself. "Sorry. Nobody's ever… been with me before, when this has happened… apart from Amy."
"Does this happen a lot?"
River nodded. He already knew the answer in part; he'd known she had nightmares, but in the old days she'd rather have died than tell him just how regular they were and risk appearing in any way vulnerable. "I used to sleep at Amy's house when we were little… when she woke me and asked me why I was screaming I'd make up these stories about… bogeymen and horrible creatures that lived under beds. And then neither of us would be able to get back to sleep," she smiled weakly. "Needless to say I was never allowed back for long periods of time."
The Doctor laughed with her, seeing just a little of that sparkle spring back into her eyes. "I'm sorry," she sighed. "It's embarrassing- I just can't control it. It's always the same nightmare and it just never goes away."
He shook his head. "You don't have to apologise. But what you do have to do is follow me."
Springing off the bed still with one of her hands wrapped in his, he pulled her with him out of their bedroom and down the Tardis corridor.
"Where are we going?"
"I can't stop your nightmares, River." Not when you're this young. There had been a few instances in which he'd risked an old Time Lord trick- mental manipulation- to crawl inside her mind and soothe the terrors he found within it, but only in the rare instances when they were fortunate enough to reach the closest thing they ever would to linear.
Not tonight; he wouldn't be the giver of spoilers this early on. "But I can give you a remedy that you may just end up using for the rest of your life."
"What's that?"
"Tea," he declared. He heard her incredulous scoff, and smiled wryly. "You laugh now. Just you wait."