Author's Note:So, yes, I know it's been forever. Long, exciting vacation for three weeks from coast to coast of the US. Then I got to attend the Doctor Who World Tour screening in NYC and see Peter Capaldi, Jenna Coleman, and Steven Moffat, which can prove to be quite a distraction when it comes to writing. But I was finally able to get this chapter out of the way, and hopefully do it justice. It may seem confusing right now, but it will all make sense eventually. You're not meant to understand it all right now.
Melody's brain couldn't seem to keep up with the rest of her body, the solutions rippling through her mind as her heart pounded and she quickly dismissed every one as impossible.
During her break, she stared hopelessly at the clock on the wall, each tick another second wasted.
I can't keep going on like this…in circles…I need…I need to think of something…
Every glance in John's direction only added to the guilt already building inside. Quietly perched at his desk, John respected her need for silence, but his tense expression and constant fidgeting told her he was deeply worried.
She mentally screamed at him for being so selfless, so caring, so concerned about her, when his life hung in the balance.
Panic arose in her mind, clogging her thoughts, sending a sickening fear into her body. Time itself seemed to trap her, its powerful clutches pressing closer and closer as the minutes trickled away.
I need more time…but what can I do? This is impossible…there's no way…
Something flickered in her brain then, an impulse, the beginning of a possibility.
"John," she blurted out before she could think properly, evoking a sharp-head turn from her friend. "I—ah, my mum just texted. Apparently Anthony is ill. She needs me to pick him up as soon as possible. If I'd known, I would've given you notice, I'm sorry."Melody kept her voice level, calm, hoping desperately that her impromptu lie wouldn't sound as ludicrous to John as it did to her.
I'm so sorry, John. I'm sorry…
"Oh. Is—is he okay?" John's brows knitted together in concern.
"Yeah. I think so. The poor thing. Needs to go home and get some rest. I don't want to keep him waiting too long—do you—do you mind if I take off an hour early? Can you manage without me for an hour, or is that too much, if it is I can—"
"No, no, it's okay. I'll be fine. Go help your brother." His hand brushed her shoulder and she felt a sob rise in her throat at the gesture.
"Thank you." She managed barely, voice shaking.
Sensing her agitation, John gave her hand a soft squeeze.
"He'll be fine, Melody." The kindness in that smile nearly shattered her façade, but she held her breath, forcing herself to remain composed.
"Yeah." After putting her belongings into her purse, Melody started toward the door.
"Hey, wait—" John tapped her lightly on the back, sounding hesitant. "About tonight. If you—if you need to be there for Anthony, we don't have to go out. I won't be—"
"No, my parents will watch him. We can still—" she pinched the bridge of her nose, gathering any lingering strength she had. "—you know. I'll pick you up. 7:30. Okay?"
"Okay."
When Melody arrived at her empty house, she scrambled to her room in the basement, her hands trembling as she removed the hidden file from under her bed.
Tears streamed down her cheeks but she simply ignored them, her bleary eyes glued to the folder.
She'd been too distraught to scour the file last night, but now, desperate and determined to find any clues to saving her friend, she poured through the its contents.
'Why is he a code red target? What is so threatening about him? Yes, he may be an arrogant prat, but there has to be more to it. Maybe I should interview him.'
What?
She stopped, eyes going wide as she fingered the next page, titled "John Smith Interview: 25/03/04."
"But I couldn't have—I'd remember—"
Her heart pounded in her ears as she continued reading in disbelief.
'Observations:
Set myself up with a phony ID as a reporter called 'River Song.' Subject agreed to interview for my 'story' on The Modern Genius without much of a fuss. He appeared flustered when we first met, but soon recovered himself with an air of confidence that is rare for a man his age. He answered all questions fairly succinctly, with only slight hesitation upon being asked about how his father's death impacted his academic journey. Evidently, this event still weighs heavy on him. He certainly prides himself on his academic successes—or perhaps he was trying to impress me? Subject is slightly arrogant, but relatively congenial. He has this way about him—I don't know how to describe it, but there is something in his eyes—I just felt like I could trust him. That is a quality that would make him dangerous if he was hiding something—but is he? He seems clever enough to be.
Subject seemed to take to me well, overall. He had this daft grin on his face and looked terribly full of himself, but he was accommodating, charismatic. I think he fancies me. This could prove useful should I need to confront him face to face again before I carry out my mission.
'before I carry out my mission'
The words circled in her head, and she pressed a hand against her temple, struck by the formality in the observations but also the undeniable reality of them—she had met John Smith before.
Closing her eyes, Melody tried to concentrate, to remember this incident, but she found only the dark bleakness of another memory that the Silence had ripped from her.
Her description of John fell short of the man she knew and loved today, but more than matched his recounting of his younger days—the days he regretted, where he was young and arrogant—before his accident.
Melody's fist rubbed against her face as she swiped away a tear, her entire body shaking.
She wanted to throw the file across the floor, to deny the revelations it held, to go back to the way things were—but she couldn't, not with John's concerned eyes shimmering in her conscience, ushering her to keep reading.
That sticky note from earlier came into view, and she bit her lip.
'Save John Smith.'
As she soon discovered, there were several other notes she'd left herself, each one bits of information that she couldn't quite understand.
'I can't do this anymore. It's wrong. John Smith is an innocent man.'
'I have to get out of here. I can't let them know.'
'They're starting to suspect—I need to be more thorough.'
'The First Question is key.'
'I can't give up now.'
'Remember. I have to remember.'
'It's passed down.'
'Dr. John Smith. Doctor John Smith. The Doctor.'
'He doesn't know.'
'Doctor Who? –a question or an anagram? Or both?'
Doctor Who?
Melody paused, furrowing her brow, staring down at the question, unable to shake the sensation that it looked ever so familiar…
Doctor Who? What is it—a warning? I don't understand, how can it be—
The answer gnawed at her, somewhere in the back of her mind, but she couldn't place it—
She didn't wait any longer, just flipped through the rest of the file.
'Silence Will Fall.'
' |||'
'Hide it.'
And there, the last lingering sticky note—nearly identical to the first.
'Save John Smith.'
Sifting her hand through her curls, Melody groaned in frustration, drawing no significant conclusions, her notes simply unintelligible phrases that she didn't have time to decipher.
She jabbed her finger at the words, angry, helpless, the bitter sobs overtaking her as she grabbed the note ready to tear it apart when suddenly she noticed a small bit of newspaper attached to its back. How had she missed that?
'Little Boy Saves Parents Against All Odds.'
And below the headline, a note, a reminder, written in her handwriting, just above a short paragraph.
'He is capable of great feats (Skills/Abilities)'
'John Smith, aged 8, grandson of the late World War II veteran of the same name, is reportedly unconscious after rescuing parents from the wreckage of their totaled vehicle. Though it seems impossible, the boy was apparently able to maneuver out of the car relatively uninjured and dislodge the door of the car with nothing but a rudimentary screwdriver, officials say. In what must have been a rush of adrenaline, the boy moved both his parents out of the car before the paramedics arrived. His father, Dr. John Smith II, and his mother, Mrs. Ellie Smith, are in stable condition in what seems to be a miraculous rescue.'
And in that moment, as she processed the reality of the words, Melody Williams had the first inclination of an idea—a crazy, impossible idea, but an idea, nonetheless.
Because if a brave little boy named John Smith could save both his parents under such remarkable circumstances, then maybe there was hope for her yet.
Unable to shake the feeling that Melody was more distraught than she let on, John dialed her number as soon as class let out.
When she didn't answer, he phoned again, and again with no response. After the third time, he knew something was terribly wrong. So he used the number he'd been given for emergencies.
His foot tapped nervously through each of the three rings before he heard her voice on the other line.
"Amelia Williams' desk."
"Amelia—" he breathed, worry filling his tone.
"John? What is it? Has something happened? Did she have another blackout? Omigosh—"
"No, no, nothing like that. It's just…she, she seemed pretty upset when she left. Is—is Anthony alright?"
"Yeah, as far as I know, what does that have to do with—"
What—
"Wait, but Melody said that you—"
His heart fell as he realized the implications of Amelia's words.
Oh no. I knew something was off.
"She said what?"
"Never mind. It's okay. I just…I don't know. When you see Melody, make sure she's alright. I'm really worried about her."
"I will. And John?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For always lookin' out for my daughter."
"You're awfully quiet." Clara observed as she helped her brother to the car.
Lost in his thoughts, John nodded vaguely, sinking into the passengers' seat.
"Did you even hear what I said?"
"What, sorry?" his brain surged back into reality at his sister's question.
"You're really out of it aren't you?"
"Out of what? What do you mean, Clara?"
"Don't 'Clara' me, John. What's going on?" she turned to look at his face, trying to decipher his peculiar expression.
"I don't know what you mean, Clara." He crossed his arms stubbornly.
"I mean, you haven't even noticed."
"Noticed what?"
"That I'm 15 minutes late!" her hands flew up from the driver's wheel.
"So?"
"So? You always notice when I'm late. What's going on?"
Annoyed, John huffed, leaning back in his chair.
"Nothing! I mean…it's complicated…"
"Funny, you said the same thing this morning." Rolling her eyes, Clara resumed driving, maneuvering out of the car park.
"I…I don't know, Clara. I'm just worried, I suppose." John admitted later.
"About Melody?" her voice filled with compassion, and he nodded, unwilling to hide from her.
"How did you know?" he sighed, hand on his forehead, as Clara parked the vehicle.
A moment of silence drifted between them, and his sister cupped his cheek softly.
"Those big sad eyes." She conceded, shaking her head. "I always know."
"Melody," Amelia called out as soon as she walked in the door. "Melody, are you down there?"
"Mummy!" Anthony cried, lunging for his mother's arms and hitting her full force.
"Owwww. I am not 26 anymore." She muttered to herself as she ruffled her son's hair, fond smile in place.
"Sorry, Mummy."
"S'okay, buddy. Did you have a nice time at school?" her fingers pinched his cheeks and he giggled.
"Yes, Mummy. Did you know my birthday's this week?"
"Yes, I did! And we've got a very special party planned for you, yeah?" Amelia grinned at her son's enthusiasm.
"Is Melody coming, Mummy?"
She heard the uncertainty in his voice and paused, stroking his face tenderly.
"'Course she is, why wouldn't she?"
Rubbing his eyes with his fists, Anthony shrugged.
"Because I think she forgot. About my birthday. And she seems really sad, and maybe scared. Do you know what's wrong with her, Mummy?"
Amelia's knuckles went white as she remembered John's call.
Oh, Melody…
Melody didn't come upstairs until an hour or so later, much to her mother's fretting.
"Melody!" Amelia called from the kitchen where she and Rory were preparing dinner. "You look nice." She exclaimed, hand on her hip as she eyed her daughter's sleek black leather jacket and billowing dress. "I take it you're not eating with us, then?"
"No, I'm going out." She draped her purse over her shoulder, before fingering its pockets for her keys. "With John."
Something in her voice did sound slightly off, Amelia realized as she watched her daughter.
"Speaking of John," she added nonchalantly, peering over at Melody. "He called about you today."
A flash of fear flickered on Melody's face, but only for an instant.
"Why?"
"Told me to make sure you're alright."
Glancing down at her boots, Melody pursed her lips.
"He worries too much."
"Does he?" Amelia raised a brow, more than skeptical.
"Yeah." Her laugh sounded hollower than it should've, but she forced a smile, meandering over to her parents and hugging them for a second longer than normal. "Love you two."
By the time she had withdrawn, Anthony had latched himself to her legs. "Love you, Melody."
"And I love you, Anthony." Crouching down to his level, she bopped him on the nose. "I know you're going to have an exciting birthday." Her lips brushed his cheek, and he blushed, smiling.
"You remembered!"
"Of course." Melody's reassurance elicited another hug from Anthony.
"You look really pretty, Melody. I'm sure Mr. John will think so too."
Her heart sank at her brother's comment, and she bit her lip, holding in the tears destined to fall at any moment.
"Thank you. Have a great night. See you later. Love you." Her tongue lingered on the last two words, and she scurried out the door before her family could see the lone tear that had splashed down to her chin.
I'm doing this for them. I have to remember that.
John's worst fears were confirmed from the moment Melody picked him up. He could sense her unease as if it were a tangible entity.
But they sort of steered clear of the subject on the brief drive to Gianelli's; in fact, they didn't speak to each other much at all.
"You look lovely tonight, John." She managed as they walked hand in hand into the restaurant, but even then John sensed the sorrow in her voice, the regret.
"So do you." He smiled crookedly, knowing Melody probably looked wonderful in anything, even if he couldn't see her himself. "Wearing petrichor again?"
"Yeah. I thought you liked it."
"I do." he winked, trying to alleviate some tension, only to realize Melody's fingers were trembling in his.
While they waited for their food, John sensed Melody's fear increasingly. Her hand had felt cold in his, as if all the life had been drained out of it, and he imagined she must've been very much the same.
"Melody, do you trust me?" John asked, eyes shimmering.
He didn't miss her harsh intake of breath.
"Absolutely."
"Then why did you lie to me?" his voice was calm, cool, masking the deep fear that was bubbling up in his heart.
"I—I don't know what you mean." She stuttered before she could manage a complete sentence.
"Earlier today. When you left. To get Anthony." He emphasized her brother's name.
"Yeah?"
"You lied. I talked to your mum. Anthony was fine. So the question is, why did you leave early?" his face was dangerously close to hers, and she shuddered at the proximity. "Me-lo-dy."
"I wasn't feeling well."
"If that was all it was, you wouldn't have lied to me." His hand reached for hers across the table, and he could feel the pulse racing in her wrist.
"No, you're right." Thump-thump, thump-thump. "Do you trust me, John?"
"Of course." His finger twirled one of her curls before sliding down her cheek.
"Then you know that I must have a good reason." Heat spread in the places where he'd touched her, and she shivered.
"Okay."
"Thank you." Her eyes folded shut, and she kissed the back of his hand, her tears splashing on his skin. "I'm sorry."
"Melody," he whispered, throat closing. "I thought we were done keeping secrets."
"So did I."
"You don't really want to be here, do you?" he asked as Melody twiddled with her spaghetti, not even bothering to eat it.
"It's not you, John." She sighed, weary.
"Of course it's me." His head tilted down sadly.
"No. Not at all." Her fingers touched his face. "I'd love to be anywhere with you."
"But not here."
"Yes." Melody smiled bitterly.
"Then why are we here?"
The question hung between them for a moment longer.
"Excellent question, Dr. Smith. And you know what's also an excellent question? Doctor Who?"
Something about the way she said it rattled him to the core, echoing back to his conversation with Jack.
' I'll leave you with this: Doctor who?'
A chill rushed down his spine, and he felt Melody's trembling fingers squeeze his.
What's she trying to tell me?
"Interesting question, isn't it? Almost like a game, in a way."
"Yes." He agreed, wanting to understand the cryptic meaning in her words.
"Well, let's say you're the Doctor, and I'm River Song."
River…Song…? Why does that sound familiar? What is she getting at?
"Okay?"
"Doesn't really answer the question does it? Well, let's say River Song is a Doctor too. Of archaeology, mind. Maybe we're getting closer to answering the question, right?"
"Right."
"And maybe she's had a bit of a rough past. Got involved with the wrong people. But she thinks she's over that and falls in love with a man called the Doctor. Maybe she wants to tell him everything, but she can't."
"Why can't she?" he played along, sensing the truth in Melody's message.
What's going on?
"Weren't you listening, Sweetie? She got involved with the wrong people." Melody's lips pressed against his ear for a mere moment, and she laughed, a deep, hearty laugh that he knew to be fake. But that was the point. "Which of course, still leaves the question. Doctor Who? Well, River Song is a woman who loves her family deeply. She'd do anything to protect them. Especially when there's danger."
Your family's in danger?
She tightened her grip on his hand as if to confirm his suspicions.
"But that still doesn't really answer the question. In fact it leaves a big factor hanging in the balance, doesn't it? Which is…"
"…the Doctor." He finished, a sick sense of dread pooling in his stomach as reality dawned on him.
Me.
They forced her to take me here.
She doesn't have a choice. No wonder she's so bloody terrified.
"It's—it's okay. I understand." His fingers smoothed circles in her palm, as if to explain all he couldn't say.
"You're very clever, Sweetie. In more ways than one." Her voice cracked, and he knew she must've been crying again.
"Melody."
"Let's go outside, shall we?"
Even though she knew John was wise enough to understand her warning, she couldn't get over that galling feeling in the pit of her stomach, a feeling of pure terror.
Because this was her betrayal, and he knew it.
"It's 9 o'clock."
They're due to come soon.
Melody's hand felt stiff now, as if she was in shock, the inevitable stretching before her.
"Dinner was lovely, Sweetie." She spouted some more nonsense to keep up the act, and he clutched her hand tighter.
He half-expected her to leave him there, to leave him to his doom, because she had to follow through and protect her family.
By the time he realized her hand had left his empty and cold, he felt it on his cheek as she pulled him into a heartfelt kiss, all the uncertainties of the moment vanishing for a split second, leaving John Smith and Melody Williams alone in a bubble where time was crashing around them.
When their lips parted, she still nuzzled her nose against his, lingering there, then moving down to his jawline and up to his ear to whisper—
"Run." She breathed, simultaneously slipping a thin object into his hand and up his sleeve, but before he could even begin to process what it was, Melody collapsed just as something smothered his mouth and he succumbed to the alluring darkness around him.
Note:So...what'd you think? I don't know, myself. I'm pretty sure I know where I'm going though. And I've dropped more than a few hints along the way (even though they may not make sense right now).
As for the next update...I honestly can't say. I will update eventually, but I start college in a week, and that's really nerve wracking and stressful, so that's going to preoccupy my time for a while.