Apologies. I was on vacation with very sketchy internet, and then launched back into the start of the school year… all of which made for no writing time.
Chapter title from the Rolling Stones.
Chapter 28: If you try sometimes, you get what you need
She loved her husband… but oh, she hated him, too. Because all that time, all those years in the TARDIS after Darillium.
He had heard her. All her prattle about nothing, and he'd heard every single word…
Idiot, River thought fondly, her eyes sweeping over him right before he kissed her; soft and sweet with a slight restraint that evaporated as she responded to him. The warmth press of his mouth against hers, the feel of him… not just his body, but his mind against hers, the sparks of telepathy that had always flowed between them in moments of intimacy.
She could read his thoughts as they circled around and around. She's an echo, she's not real followed with does it matter? She's River! She looks like River and sounds like River and kisses like River followed by I can't let her go, I know I should but I don't want to, not ever.
And then a final thought as he drew away from her.
How could I say goodbye? I never even told her how I feel about her; and if I never found the right words for that, how could I find the right ones for farewell?
She could've cried at the sincerity in his voice as he looked at her seriously. "There is a time to live and a time to sleep… you should've faded by now."
Her mind was racing, the vestiges of his thoughts mingling with hers as River tried to puzzle through the hows and the whys. Because he was right; beyond the fact that her consciousness should have faded slowly into the Library matrix, she should never have even been able to exist outside in the real world at all. For such a long time, she had been trapped there; but what had changed everything? Interacting with Vastra and the rest of them from Paternoster Row.
No. It had been before that. Meeting the Sea Witch -who should never have really been there, but was because a line had been left open and a link created that let her in- and making a bargain. A Catch 22, really; because there hadn't been a solution. She'd been told: if she learned the rules and played her part, she could go; otherwise, she belonged to the Witch. And yet, the Witch, eyes glowing gold, that she had always belong to her and always would before somehow transmitting those same sparks into her skin and -
Oh.
River sucked in her breath, trying not to shriek as understanding flowed through her. She quickly tempered her glee; it was important, she knew that, for it not to show on her face… but difficult as her eyes danced in excitement and she wished fervently that he'd understand somehow. That he'd use that clever mind and put the pieces together, as she had.
Time isn't a straight line, my love; you know better than that. I know better. And I thought it before, but didn't realize… In the present you connected Clara to the TARDIS to input the coordinates, and since I never cancelled the conference call… Everything circles around like the ouroboros. This leads to that, forever and ever, and the past and present and future all connect. Especially if you're clever enough to follow the clues… and husband, you are precious and sometimes just a little slow.
But there were rules, the Witch had said. Learn the rules and follow them; one of which had always been not to tell him what he wasn't ready for. And he wasn't ready for this, not yet. He had Clara to save, everyone to get off Trenzalore, a ghost-wife to say farewell to… Too many things on his mind right now, and as usual, he wasn't giving the right ones their proper attention.
"It's hard to leave," said River conversationally, "if you haven't said goodbye. If you ever loved me, say it like you're going to come back."
She was baiting him and she knew it; but then, she'd always teased and baited him until he could understand what she was telling him but unable to say. And, too; it assuaged her own fears. The nagging wonder she'd had for centuries now: that if he loved her as he'd seemed to, how could he have left her and not even told her goodbye?
"See you around," said the Doctor with a studied nonchalance that didn't fool her in the slightest.
"Till the next time." River was almost chirping with excitement. Very unlike her; but it was hard to keep her giggles inside.
"Don't wait up."
Oh, sweetie. I'm a Pond. I always will, for you.
But she didn't say that aloud. "Oh," said River nonchalantly, choosing to ignore his last comment. "There's one more thing…"
It couldn't hurt, she figured, to tell him that there was in fact one final spoiler. It wouldn't have been them if there wasn't… and even though she knew he couldn't understand it yet, he would eventually. And that made it alright as she smiled and whispered goodbye, her hearts light and mind singing.
It's alright, my love. You'll figure it out. Eventually.
In all the time she'd been in the TARDIS as a ghost, she'd resisted thinking of the Library. There had been a part of her that was afraid that even the memory might draw her back; or that as she was watching the Doctor, the Witch might be watching her, just waiting for the right time to call in on their bargain and she would dissolve into nothingness.
But it was easier than she'd expected when she finally gave in, focusing once more on her memory of the Sea Witch. The person was the important thing, not the place; and she felt a little triumphant at not ending up in the dark underwater lair once more, but instead on the field where she'd first woken up, all those years ago. Facing her, hands clasped and identical grins on their faces were Charlotte and the Witch; and River laughed at the sight.
"You're back!" cried Charlotte, flinging herself forward; and River knelt just in time to pull the girl up into a fierce hug.
"Of course," she murmured, kissing her head, resting her cheek against Charlotte's soft hair. "Have you missed me?"
"Well," Charlotte looked shiftily to the side. "Yes. And no."
"Oh, so you've replaced me?" teased River gently. "And here I thought I was special."
"You are! It's just…" Charlotte beamed, small face shining with excitement. "Did you tell her? About me? About what I wanted?"
Playing for time, River cupped the child's cheek in her palm, tilting her face up so she could look right into Charlotte's eyes. There was a certain peace there now, a contentment…
"No," she murmured, pleased by what she saw. "I didn't tell her. But she's good. Very, very good at knowing what people need…"
"Took you long enough to figure out," the Witch laughed, seating herself besides them.
"Not as long as him," countered River defensively. "He still hasn't."
"Give him time." The Witch shook her head slowly in amusement. "My thief. Not so good at seeing what is right in front his face, or hearing what he doesn't expect. He'll come around though. He always does."
"But," River said softly, "you could have told me everything. Let me understand what I was doing there. I'm not him, you know. And I thought – our bargain- I thought it meant that if I failed…" She shrugged uncomfortably, not wanting to admit it, but knowing she had to, "you'd… devour me, or something. You said play my part and I could go, and my soul and memories would belong to you. I didn't know that meant you'd provide me with a physical link to leave."
Once, the Witch's eyes had been dark and curiously inhuman… but River groaned, knowing that she'd been as blind as her husband, seeing only what she expected. Because now that she looked closer she saw the gold lurking in their depths. Glowing, humming golden eyes, sparkling with hints of the only Huon energy left in the Universe; that looked River up and down before the Witch smiled.
"I've always known you," she said finally. "From that time when you were barely more than a thought, from the moment of your conception in the Vortex as you struggled to survive. I gave you my blessing then so that you could become who I knew you could be. Who he needed."
River closed her eyes, suddenly remembering the Doctor's poem. "You told me. So much stock placed in the Doctor's part; but not everything is about him… because there's a line, isn't there? The gift of life is given twice…"
The Witch nodded, almost shyly. "I gave you that once, my Melody. Awoke your mind… did you think I wouldn't give it again, if I could? To help bring you back into the world?"
River blinked away sudden tears, reaching for her hand. "But you still could have said something-"
"I couldn't. You're quite like him, you know. The right time, to understand everything. Because this was a test for both of you; and you wouldn't have reacted the same way to him if you'd known. He had to save you… but you had to save him too. Like you've always done, and at the times when he needed it most. Usually it was his body, but this time… this time, it was him. Who he is. You saved him, made him into the Doctor again; because if you hadn't, he would never have become the man who could save you.
"To save what would be saved requires redemption?" asked River, pulling the remaining quote from her memory.
"Exactly. And," added the Witch primly, "it should be remembered, my girl, that happy endings don't just happen because you deserve them. It takes work, from everyone involved."
"Work," said River flatly. "That wasn't work. It was an uphill battle all the way. The Doctor is quite difficult young." She was rewarded with a laugh from both the Witch and Charlotte; and River rested her arm around the little girl's shoulders, sitting back heavily on the grass. She didn't have to say it, she knew she didn't. But she wanted to.
"I got so angry with him," she admitted softly. "I started to hate him. Again. After Berlin, I thought I wouldn't feel like that again. But then I started to remember the stories. The Doctor; Time Lord Victorious who does what he wants without caring of the consequences or who gets hurt or lost along the way.
"Sometimes," River whispered, "I didn't want to save him, I was so angry."
"Yes," answered the Witch calmly. "I wondered if you would feel like that. And I wanted you to make a choice; not just return because he finally worked out what he could do.
"And you're hardly alone. He may be my thief, but I hate him sometimes too. He does leave the brakes on; never thinks that it itches me when they burn out. He talks back and ignores what I say. And that tinkering! Storing the pool in every which place except where it's meant to be!" She sniffed. "He ought not to have thrown out the manual.
"Still." The Witch shrugged, smiling. "He annoys me, but I still care about him. He's my Doctor. Redeemable, even with his faults."
Tears stinging her eyes, River managed to smile. "I think so too."
"I thought you might. But it needed some reminding. It wasn't enough for you to save him, and for him to save you. You both had to remember why you'd want to."
"Final honesty?" River asked. The last line of the poem she hadn't understood.
The Witch looked away for a moment, not quite meeting River's eyes.
"Yes," she said finally. "Honesty. Just so."
It was a beautiful, peaceful day inside the Library, the grass soft and fragrant, the cloudless blue sky and sun warm overhead. But then again, they always were beautiful, peaceful days; and River sighed, knowing obscurely that when this was finished, she was going to miss this place, just a little. She turned back to the Witch, feeling her eyes curiously on her.
"Tell me one thing, though. Why this form?" she asked in a whisper. "You had to have known, I'd not have recognized you like this."
"Well," said the Witch reflectively, "I had a body once. Much bigger on the inside that I'd thought. Nice, even though he always thought I was sexy no matter what I wore. But I thought this one would work better here. Easier to talk with a mouth, so that everyone can hear. Talking can be quite nice."
"The Doctor would agree," River said, managing to keep a straight face. The Witch nodded.
"He does talk and run about, doesn't he? I'm content to leave that to him. Still: mouths. Very good invention. Quite useful."
"But… you couldn't have picked a prettier shape? Younger or more…"
"I'm rather too old," said the Witch tartly, "to go around in those skinny fleshy shells. All firm skin and poky ribs and jiggly bits. I know that what you see here is just an interface but really." She sounded indignant. "I could blow the casings on something that frail in no time."
"And I think she's beautiful," Charlotte interjected dreamily, reaching one hand out to lace her fingers through the Witch's. "Not too young or too old… I liked having you here, River. It was like having a Mum again… but she's like my Grandmother, now."
River found herself smiling. "That makes sense," she murmured, hugging the little girl against her as she reached for the Witch's other hand so that they sat together, fingers linked, hearts and souls in tune. "Since I was always her child, and when I was here, you were like the daughter I never had..." She kissed Charlotte's head. "I will miss you, you know."
"But not enough to stay." Charlotte nodded. "It's alright. I understand. The Doctor is waiting for you, and he needs you more than I do. Especially because I have Granny to take care of me."
"I tell her the stories from Gallifrey that no one says anymore," the Witch said. "Not even the Doctor. And I teach her the songs that my sisters and I learned as we grew together in the yards; because I am the last one left, and I miss having someone to sing them with."
"And," Charlotte whispered triumphantly into River's ear, "best of all: she told me that I didn't have to stay if I didn't want to. Now that the Library is backed up on her hard drive and doesn't have to run on my memory, no one will be deleted if I decide I'm tired and I want to go."
"And did you?" asked River softly, stroking the girl's hair. "Did you decide to move on?"
"No. I like Granny. I like having her here with me; and now that you're going, I won't be lonely anymore. And neither will she. She says that you and I are the only ones who understand her when she talks. The Doctor doesn't always listen enough."
"Well," said River, trying to be loyal to her husband, "he's really not good at hearing what he doesn't expect. It takes him some time to interpret everything."
"He is a funny one," said the Witch. "I'm glad I stole him, even if it does take him a long time to understand sometimes. And as for you," she raised an eyebrow, looking at River, "I think quite soon he'll put the last pieces together."
"And then I'm…leaving." Ridiculous to feel suddenly uncertain about that fact. Outside the initial euphoria that he'd saved her, she'd never wanted to be stuck in the Library. She'd hated that feeling of being trapped, of being locked away from the outside world and him, possibly forever. But she'd still made a home there for years, had friends and adventures and memories; and there was something sad and mixed-up feeling in River's mind about adding the Library and its inhabitants to the list of people she had always either been out-of-sync with, or could never see again.
"Huh." River looked up to see the Witch looking curiously at her. "Sometimes I forget that you had other parents than me, and you inherited some of their slowness. I don't love you any less for that, but occasionally… Well, that's very frustrating that you don't see like I do. Human-style heads…" and she tipped her own head to the side, "they are bigger on the inside but maybe the brain need more rooms to compute clearly?
"You realise that you can still come visit us when you're back with him. When you're in the TARDIS," she giggled for a moment, like a child, "the outside TARDIS, clearly. I don't mean inside this shell. But I'll send the schematics to you for the room, the holograph one by the chocolate fountain. You've not used it yet… or maybe you have in the past? I always get that confused. But when you go in there, the program is loaded on that mirror you used to talk to the Doctor. Insert it in the drive and it'll provide a physical link for communication."
River paused for a moment, before scooting over to the Witch and leaning her head against her shoulder. She'd always loved the TARDIS, always adored her as a second Mother. Had revelled in the fact that she could talk to her in her mind, interpret her hums and grumbles better than the Doctor. But in her outside shape as a box, there was a sense of other that was eliminated here, now that she understood everything. With Charlotte still burrowed as a small, warm weight against her side, she snuggled against the Witch, feeling her brush a kiss over River's forehead and stroke back her curls like she was a little girl.
"You do always give us what we need, don't you?" asked River softly. The Witch laughed.
"I am," she commented, "quite good at that."
