Next chapter, the big plot things I was talking about start. I'll post all the cliff-hanger chapters in quick succession because it's all quite intense – I mean, I was quite worried for the sake of a character's life at one point, but it's all better now cause I know what's gonna happen. I can't tell you though, because…
Spoilers ;)
This chapter is also fairly fluffy. If this was a movie, it'd be that montage scene where time passes as fast as it takes to spin one song because the writers can't be bothered to write the in-betweeny bit. I could be bothered, but it wouldn't be that interesting.
Fluffy montage chapter – here we go.
8. Lost In Translation
Italics = Gallifreyan
It was a hello, but not the normal hello that passed between them in the mornings as they woke up and their eyes met.
This time, his hello after an hour of watching her sleep was in Gallifreyan, rolling off his tongue softly in their room that was brightening slowly as they became more awake.
Wrapped up in bedsheets, caught up in each other, he traced the patterns of the letters onto her palm, repeating the words over and over; telling her things he'd never told anyone before, let alone in his own language.
He taught her a few things, but not too much, because he didn't want to have to think too carefully about what he said when he was whispering it in her ear while his focus was elsewhere.
He taught her a few things – practical things and grammar and such – and then other things that he liked to hear her say – his full name, hers in Gallifreyan.
The Doctor found that teaching her to speak his language was not only beautiful and moving, but also very, very sexy – just a few words drawled into his ear was enough to delay their getting out of bed for a few hours. He wasn't the only one that found his language attractive – though she knew a few things, he could still whisper things she couldn't understand against her skin, and she found that even though she didn't know what it meant, the mere sounds themselves seemed to burn in her mind and echo in her bones.
The only things he taught her the meanings of were the practical things (and a few choice phrases of his preference), so he could ramble on for minutes in a tongue that she didn't understand, but appreciated all the same.
Over the space of a few weeks, she learned many things due to her advanced learning capabilities, and soon enough they could hold entire conversations in Gallifreyan – but he still withheld from her the meanings of the words he growled in her ear at night.
One evening, dinner had been warm and stifling, both of them raring to leave it behind. He wasn't forward enough to ask, so he looked at her with darkened eyes and simply spoke a phrase – one he had taught her.
I love you.
It wasn't out of place at the time, like it would have been had he said it in English – somehow, in this dialect, the words meant something else entirely.
I'm not hungry. Not for this. River tackled the words with ease, having worked out the phrases herself in accordance to a certain grammar lesson that had happened a few afternoons ago.
Me neither. Not for this.
I love you...
Of course, evenings spent like this usually led to mornings spent in bed, and a few more words added to her vocabulary. He'd test her, occasionally, surprising her while she was still waking up with a "Talk to me" in Gallifreyan spoken as they lay face to face.
She, of course, obliged.
"Good morning, sweetie..." she seemed to sing in his arms.
"Good morning to you too..." He took her hand, silently encouraging her to continue to show he progress.
"What's for breakfast?" She had acquired this phrase when they did food – she smiled, recalling the lesson that had somehow turned into a food fight.
"Fish fingers and custard, with a side portion of wibbly wobbly timey wimey." The Doctor was only able to find an approximate translation of these last phrases, never having been needed by the Time Lords of the ancient past that had created the language.
"I think I'll just have a pear, Sweetie..." she smiled cheekily.
He immediately switched to English.
"I didn't teach you that!" his eyes were wide with astonishment, wondering how she could have known to say what he himself hadn't taught her.
"What?" she asked innocently.
"Pear! There is no way that I would ever teach you how to say pear!" He indignantly protested at her apparent mind-reading skills. He would never have taught her how to name that dreaded fruit in his own, precious language – how could she have known how to say it?
"Sweetie, there's this delightful book in the library that has all sorts of wonderful things in it..."
He remembered that book. He drew back in fear – of course, with her part time lord mind, she would've been able to absorb the contents of the book within weeks!
A look of horror spread across his face – if she could understand the things he'd said, then she would have heard quite a few things that he hadn't wanted her to. He had noticed that she quite liked him whispering things in Gallifreyan, so he continued, running out of new, romantic things to say and instead being totally and completely honest (nothing he would've done if he knew she understood what he was saying).
"I never once saw you reading that!" It was true – there wasn't one time he had seen her reading that book – and he spent almost every waking moment with her. Unless...
"I was careful – I only read it while you're in the fez and bowtie room..."
He gasped, and then narrowed his eyes.
"How do you know about the fez and bowtie room?" His most sacred sanctuary, practically his Mecca!
She replied smugly "TARDIS showed me."
Damn! Why did they always have to gang up on him!
He rubbed his head nervously "How long have you known what I've been saying?"
"Long enough to know all sorts of things..." she replied slyly.
"Like what?" he subconsciously scratched his cheek, unaware he was doing it, which always happened when he was nervous.
"Like how you shouldn't like how I shoot things but you kind of do, a bit..."
This was something he'd never admit to, and thoroughly deny if she hadn't witnessed him say it. In his defence, he didn't know that she had understood a word of it.
"...and how much you love my hair and want to know if it comes with the human plus DNA or if I'm just lucky..."
He stroked some of the strands as she said this – it was true, she did have the most magnificent hair.
"..Or how you wouldn't trade me in for all the Jammie Dodgers in the universe..."
He smiled sheepishly at this one. Perhaps having her understand him wasn't that bad after all...
She was facing him now, but leaned over to kiss his cheek, then kissed an arc across his chin, his neck, up round towards his ear, before her lips curled to whisper a few choice requests and suggestions in Gallifreyan that made his cheeks blush and his eyes go wide before he nodded his approval and turned to kiss her.
She had done it again – delayed their getting up.
But The Doctor didn't care, because he had been wrong.
Having her understand him, and be able to say whatever she wanted in a language only they knew was more than "not that bad after all..."
It was much, much, better.
Next chapter = when everything is going to change (spoilers)
Review for bashful Doctor and timewimeywibblywobbly timebaby things happening soonsoonsoon?
