Episode References:
* Season 1: Episode 3, "S.O.B."
* Season 5: Episode 12, "The Last Kiss Goodnight"
With a Little Help from River
D of The DA's Office
Palm Beach, 21.11.1991 AD
Doctor River Song surveyed the marina as she stood with a male and female Crime Scene technician from the, what was it again? Palm Beach Police Department. Well, at least it was tropical here. Certainly colorful. She'd just make quick work of this late-twentieth-century Earth assignment and be on her way. Part blackmail, part losing a bet – part her husband turning up the charm and catching her at a weak moment – it promised to be enlightening. Mesmerizing, so he claimed. Even the memory of the conversation made her eyes want to roll, but then he had taken her face in his hands, looking deep into her soul. "Rita Lance and Chris Lorenzo. They are special." It was a tone that spoke of their own connection, and it melted her. Each and every time.
Speaking of time, there was an almighty fixed point which had been altered, and he needed her to set things right. So, here she was. Popping in for a couple minutes today to get her bearings with these "specials," before jumping ahead four years to some parking lot. Love good, universe unravelling bad. She smiled as the pair of detectives joined her and her team, and they all made their way toward a boat slip that was of interest to their murder investigation. "Alright, Sweetie. Game on."
Sergeant Christopher Lorenzo sized up the gleaming yacht. "On the sexy, inanimate object scale, this puppy is multiple orgasms."
"You're always dazzled by obscene displays. Power, flesh, or money," Sergeant Rita Lance countered.
"Two scoops of each, please!"
"Give me a schooner and a stiff wind any day."
"Nope! Not so long as we're partners, Rita, you made me promise. Police officers! We're coming aboard!"
River followed up the stairs onto the ship. Interesting. She was pleasantly surprised. The pair's banter was not unlike her own with a certain special someone. Maybe there really was something to these two after all.
Their group's presence startled an ape of a worker, prompting him to take a swing at Lance. She dodged it with little effort, but his shove to Lorenzo's chest was returned with two punches to the face, sending him plunging off the stern and into the water.
Lance walked over to the low railing and peered down. "We're police officers, dummy!" Turning to a wincing Lorenzo, she examined his hand. "You know, your right's getting better – it's, ah, very quick and solid – but how many times do I have to tell you..."
"...not in the head," they finished in unison.
River noticed their hands still lingered together. Intentional or unconscious?
During the commotion, a new opponent had come up from the cabin. He addressed Lance, stating, "I had a feeling you were a cop."
"Clairvoyant, huh? Then, I guess that means you don't need to see the warrant."
"Now you front me with your step-on-my-face attitude, so I know you found out about my checkered past."
"Hey, he's good at this," Lorenzo chimed.
Lance handed him the warrant, anyway. "Give this to your captain."
"I am the captain. You know, you've got a nice ass on you for a cop."
"Oh, thank you," Lorenzo piped in again.
"You know, you've got a nice watch on. Let me guess, you 'found' it."
River suppressed a snicker. As the guy's rebuttal droned on, she found it best to analyze the detectives instead. Noteworthy chemistry, notable interactions as well. She wondered if they were always this way with each other. This might just merit a little conversation before she pushed off. Tuning back in, she uttered an exasperated though fairly inaudible sigh. The trite little homily was getting very old. She had almost reached the end of her constraint when Lance interjected to Lorenzo, "very moving. You know, I could almost hear the violins playing in the background, could you?"
"Mmm, hmm. Mmm, hmm."
Lance then looked to her and the other Crime Scene specialists. "You guys come with me; knock yourselves out. I want to strip this boat down into small pieces."
"What's your name, sweetheart? I want to make sure Westfall's lawyers gets it right."
"Sergeant. Rita. Lee. Lance. You might want to get a crayon and write it down before you forget it."
Oh, that clinched it for River. There was no way she could leave without getting to talk to Lance herself. With the exception of the "captain," they all headed below deck and got to work on processing the cabin.
Before Lance left the galley, River stopped her. "Sgt. Lance? I have not had the pleasure of meeting you yet, but I enjoyed that show immensely. Dr. River Song. I'll be working with your crime lab for –" River's eyes darted to one side, then back, "– a bit."
After mutual agreement on the use of first names, Rita mused, "welcome aboard," as she glanced around the ship's galley. "Sorry about up there. Still working on the professionalism part with bozos like that."
While her words spoke of contrition, her green eyes glinted with impish fire, and River let out a laugh. "That big clod tried to deck you. I admire your restraint – I would have ripped out his heart." She left it at that; no need to divulge her actual capabilities for such a task.
"Yeah, well, rules and regulations. Let's just say I'm attempting to stay under IA's and the DA's radar for –" Rita arched an eyebrow and offered River a lopsided grin, "– a bit."
And with that, River felt their connection solidify. "Mmm, more's the pity."
As Chris joined them, Rita made the introductions, and he shook River's hand. "Beautiful name, beautiful accent."
"Thank you, I..." River trailed off, her focus diverted. She watched as the male technician took out a swab and made long, sweeping strokes through a stain near the entryway wall of the galley.
"Well, ladies," Chris continued, "shall we hit the bedroom?" He grimaced, immediately regretting his choice of words. "What I mean is –"
"Come now," River countered, trying to ignore the "procedure" taking place near her. "You're not rescinding the offer, now, are you, Chris?" She held up a hand before he could reply, annoyance overtaking her ability to enjoy the repartee. "Right, then. Hold that thought."
She turned her full attention to the tech, cuffing him on the arm. "And what sort of technique do you call that? Did you train in a lab or in a barn? You're swabbing for DNA, not painting the wall." She took the applicator and shooed him away toward a simpler task. Rolling her eyes, she looked back at the detectives. "Amateurs."
Rita ducked her head, biting her lip till she knew she wouldn't laugh. "River, I think you and I need to grab a drink together some time."
Palm Beach...three weeks, two cases later...
Two glasses of wine in tote, River used her hip to push open the swinging door leading from Rita's kitchen to the living room. It was a place she now knew well. She downed a large gulp from her own flute and mentally kicked herself.
Hard.
What in the name of sanity had compelled her to ask such a question? History, real personal childhood history was off limits. If Rita volleyed the question back...
Fabulous. Not only was she completely losing her touch, but she was growing a conscience. She would actually hate to lie to her new friend. Clearly, she was becoming way too comfortable with "the Sams." Last night, she reminded herself as she set both glasses on the coffee table and slumped back onto the couch. This was her last night in Palm Beach; she had bent the rules far enough.
Rita exited the kitchen, rubbing her hands together to dry any residual moisture from washing the dinner dishes. She followed suit to the couch. "My past is...complicated."
Ah, vagueness, blessed vagueness. Thank the stars.
"Complicated," River echoed with a quiet snort. "You'd be preaching to the choir there, with complicated, and let's just leave it at that. Besides, I'd much rather hear if there's anyone special in your life, anyway. We've never really talked about that. Any man?"
As if on cue, Chris exited the bathroom, having changed into shorts and a tee shirt for his basketball game. "Ladies, it's been real but, see ya! Got-ta go."
He reached for River's hand, placing a very theatrical kiss on the back of it before helping her rise. Pulling her in for an embrace, he exclaimed, "we'll miss you. You sure you can't stay and finish up the Miller case with us?"
"We will be seeing each other again; I guarantee. Promise, Handsome."
Chris shifted to Rita, who was already on her feet and meeting him halfway, and slid a hand under her hair, cupping her neck as they hugged. His kiss to her was on top of her head, and River wondered if he knew he was smiling. It definitely wasn't the first time she'd witnessed a display like all this.
She knew they weren't actually together yet, but still... The way they would stand, even at scenes, physical contact was craved. There were looks, too. Oh, she had felt the Earth quake a time or two in their presence. There was heat, of that, she was certain. It was thrilling, but it wasn't mesmerizing. So far, she was still beating her beloved at this game.
Chris' voice suddenly broke through her reverie. "You gals just remember it's a school night. Don't be up all hours or that alarm is really going to hurt in the morning."
"G'night, Daddy," Rita drawled with a Southern accent, turning Chris toward the door and ushering him through it at arms' length. Closing it, she shook her head in amusement. "Where were we?"
"You were about to tell me about the special man in your life."
Rita groaned at the smile being thrown her way, both saccharine and sassy, and lumbered back to the couch before flopping down. "Oh, come on, River! Not you, too."
"What? You two? You burn. You melt steel."
Silent for a moment, Rita concentrated on the decorative pillow between them. Finally, she offered, "we love each other – but, no. It's not like that. Everyone always thinks that it is." She traced the floral pattern before lifting her gaze. "We're not in love. We have each other's back, we're best friends. We don't want to ruin all that, you know?"
Palm Beach 10.12.1995 AD
Lieutenant Rita Lee Lance Lorenzo was still. She worked with great discipline to keep her breathing even, focusing on her indignance.
It had been a while since she last rode in a limo, and this time, was a waste. Sandwiched between two cold-blooded killers, her wrists bound together atop her pregnant belly, the diversion was a life-saving tactic borne from nearly a decade of policework.
Anything to protect her child.
The external surroundings remained deadly and beyond her control, but by God, she alone could dictate their internal effects.
The dark partition separating the back seat from the driver began to slide down, bathing the tinted interior of the vehicle in natural light. They had arrived at the park. Through the windshield Rita spotted a familiar sedan. Hard as she tried to prevent it, her heart skipped a beat, and within a few seconds, she felt the baby stir. Her husband, her child's father, was waiting for them, adding a third precious life to this dicey predicament. Rita uttered yet another silent prayer. Her life was not just her own anymore, and her actions would need to safeguard that which she had not possessed in a very long time.
Family.
She was ushered out of the car and flanked once again by Montoya and his bodyguard. The armed driver remained at his post, just outside the limo. A shimmering of light in her peripheral vision drew her attention to a row of parked cars, but she saw nothing. Just a street hockey game playing out farther down the lot.
The sight of her Sam, however, brought both relief and fear, and the emotions remained in constant flux. She knew the exact moment Chris realized the condition of her wrists. His was a rage contained only by the few moments it took to pull a cloth bag off his front seat. Her ransom. Audio surveillance tapes and cash, the insurance policy of a now-dead dirty cop.
Chris began walking toward her, and their focus zeroed in on each other. Softly, he asked, "are you okay?"
"Yeah," she exhaled.
Montoya sneered, but then addressed them with fabricated gentility. "I apologize for these tactics. I hate using women, especially as beautiful and charming a one as this." For emphasis, he trailed a hand down Rita's cheek and jawline.
Rita could feel the wrath coming off Chris in waves. Unspoken communication between them had been vital countless other times in their career; now, more than ever, she needed him to read her eyes. And resist.
The message was received, and his reply was quiet. Quiet, steadfast, lethal. More lethal than any weapon ever created. "You touch her again, and I'll drop you where you stand."
"Ah, I suppose the message for the day is 'chivalry is not dead' yet." Montoya's tone then resumed its businesslike timbre. "The bag?"
Chris held out the sack so its contents could be seen. "My wife," he commanded.
Rita was thrust by both killers toward Chris as the bag exchanged hands, and he immediately stepped in front of her, blocking her entirely. A human shield of rock-solid muscle and love that would not budge until the limo with all three of its occupants was out of sight. Then, as fast as she could blink, he whipped around, freeing her wrists, and drawing her into his arms.
Rita gripped him tightly, fighting back the fear and adrenaline. He was safe. She was safe. Their child was safe. The warmth of Chris' breath was welcomed confirmation, as he murmured against her, "Sam... I'm so glad you're all right..."
She kissed him fiercely, desperate for the connection. "I thought that was going to be it," she confessed, unable to keep a tremble out of her voice.
"I know." His hands were shaking as they framed her face, but the kiss he offered continued to reassure them both of their bond unbroken. "I'm never going to leave you again."
Rita accepted the protective arm that held her close as Chris guided her into the car. When he suddenly stiffened, she followed his gaze.
A heavily padded hockey player was barreling in their direction.
No stick. An automatic weapon.
He skated one more stride, passing in front of two parked cars – when someone suddenly darted out. It was a woman with a curly, reddish-blonde mane, and the strength of a lion to match. She easily bypassed the goalie mask and took a firm hold on the would-be-shooter's throat, nearly lifting him off his feet. The massive gun dropped from his hands. She paid his gurgling no attention, her glare alone striking even more fear than her grip.
The interference was just long enough for Chris to whip out his own gun and Rita to grab her spare from the glovebox. She positioned herself behind the vehicle, ready to assist their surprise interceptor.
The woman glanced over for but a moment, as if assuring herself they were safe, before refocusing on her target. "Don't you bloody dare. Not this time," she spat. "Not any time. Got that?"
As he lost consciousness and went limp, she tossed him aside in effortless disgust. With a quick flick of her head, her wild cascade of curls returned back behind her shoulders, and her expression lightened. She began walking toward them. "Right, then. Timing...as they say...is everything. Wouldn't you agree?"
The hair, the accent. "Wait," Rita commented, joining Chris on the opposite side of the car. "I know you. River! You're Dr. River Song."
River curtsied to the side. "In the flesh. I told you we'd see each other again. Come now, let me look at you two. A lot has changed for you, hasn't it?"
Rita locked eyes with her soulmate, the only antidote capable of calming her from all the day's events. "Yeah... Yeah, you could say that."
...
River trained her own gaze on them.
Their look!
It was as if every planet she could name had stopped rotating, and these were the only two beings in existence. She committed the sensation to memory.
Even for her, partly a child of the time vortex, this...was a first. Only some unforeseen encounter with the Silence would ever make her forget how her two, all-human friends could make time stand still with merely a glance.
"Damn!" she muttered. "He was right. Oh boy, was he right." She continued the scrutiny, from one to the other, studying them intently. "Oh, I hate him for that!"
"Who?" Chris asked.
"My old fella. The ball-and-chain, if you will. Strange, though, you're making me seriously miss him right now." River took a deep breath, and slowly let it out. "You're special. I knew it back then, and I definitely know it now. Far from me to get sentimental, but what you have... It's breathtaking."
There was a sudden rustling behind her, as the hockey player tried to bring out another gun. Three expert comrades, whose reflexes and instincts were faster than their tongues, raised their own weapons and fired.
River hadn't even bothered to turn away from the Lorenzos, she simply whipped out her piece and pulled the trigger when her arm was fully extended behind her. She looked down, impressed at the Glock in her hand. "I like! It's no Alpha Meson, but it sure beats a Colt .45." She looked back to Rita. "Have you tried?"
"Eh. I'm partial to Sig Sauer, myself."
River considered the suggestion. "Mmm. Next time."
They all approached Montoya's goon, and Chris kicked away the weapons. Two shots were nearly on top of each other in the dead-center of the thug's chest. The third, was right between his eyes.
River knew for certain now that her friends were truly safe. "You two – well, three – have had quite enough excitement, I should think. What do you say? Shall we call it a day?" As they started walking back toward Chris' car, she replayed his threat to Montoya. "'Touch her again, and I'll drop you where you stand,'" she quoted. "I like that, Chris. I think I'll have to use it sometime."
Chris reached behind Rita to tap River on the shoulder. "Spill it. How are you showing back up here? Right here, right now?"
"Well, I might have had some inside information about what all was happening today. It was my job to ensure you get the long and happy life together that I know you were meant to have. What's meant to be, is meant to be. Try and mess with times like that and bad things happen all over the universe." River shook her head in amazement. "You two, really are special."
They reached the car and Chris tried to persuade Rita to sit down. Instead, she promised to lean against the side of the vehicle, the interior being too far away from him.
River smiled. Still craving direct contact, I see... She continued, "now, as for Montoya? Well, that little piece of rubbish won't be invading your dance space ever again. Cross my heart. No loose ends, not on my watch." She threw a sideways glance toward the body behind her. "As for him, you needn't worry about IA or anything like that. This case will be wrapped up by the time you even call it in."
"You've mentioned 'time' a lot, River," Chris countered.
"I have."
"Come on, now," he coaxed. "What jurisdiction are you really with?"
"Oh, honey, River Song doesn't answer to anybody."
"Hah! Uh huh." Chris ducked his head and moved in front of her, pulling her close for an embrace. He murmured his heartfelt gratitude into her ear, its beauty and veracity making her eyes close for a moment. He turned to Rita, grasping both her hands, and kissing her again on the lips. "I might as well still follow procedure and actually make the call." With that, he walked around the car to the passenger side and got on the radio.
Alone now with Rita, River confessed, "I wasn't supposed to interact with you as much as I did four years ago, but I knew that you and I were kindred spirits. Besides, I never play by the rules, anyway."
"If you hadn't been here...Chris would have been ambushed. I don't know how, but I know that he would have been hit." Rita's eyes began to glisten, but she set her brow and fought any release. "Hormones, right? That's what we'll blame. I wouldn't want you to think I'm not as badass as I was back in the day."
"Control, restraint...these are characteristics of badass I have yet to master. Had you let your anger go – your 'mama bear' rage unleash – there would have been casualties today within your family. Undoubtedly. No, you made the right call. Chris did, too."
"Will you be staying in town a while? I'd really love to catch up – plus, I mean, we do owe you our lives, you know. How about dinner at my place like old times?"
Chris jogged around to their side of the car. "What did I miss?"
"I'm trying to convince River to stick around for dinner."
"Well?" Chris asked.
"Dinner, no. You two need to spend the rest of the day and night alone together. However, make it lunch on your balcony tomorrow, Rita, and you've got yourselves a deal." Rules be damned, River thought. It'll be one more day. What's one more day?
"It's settled!" Rita beamed, before switching to Lieutenant mode. "So, Chris, what did the Captain say?"
Chris let out a soft laugh. "The Captain..." he murmured. His affectionate tone eluded more to Harry's role as a father figure than as a superior officer. "The Cap had a lot to say; I could barely get a word in. He was worried sick. Seems like the Police Chief was already in his office with the whole story – and you know how tight they are – but he wasn't buying that we were okay until he heard it from me.
"Apparently, the Chief will be handling everything personally for the PD, and we'll be free to clear out of here, no questions asked." He whipped his head in River's direction. "Just like you said. All we'll have to do is check in with..." Chris looked to his notebook, "...a Captain Jack Harkness. Then, the CIA will take care of everything, and we're under strict orders to rest up and not set foot near the bullpen for at least a week."
All eyes turned to River, and she offered a sly shrug of her shoulders. "I know Jack. Jack and I are...old friends. Fancy that, him running with the CIA these days."
"Ah huh," Rita countered. "You know what? I don't even care about the logistics. I just want to get out of here. So! What time are you thinking for lunch tomorrow?"
River, knowing everything was right with the universe now, offered her friends a brilliant grin. "Your choice, Mr. and Mrs. Lorenzo...
...we have all the time in the world."
The End
Author's Note
I believe this story had the fastest completion time to date (we're talking a couple of weeks), though it's been shelved for nearly a year. Inspiration came in the form of Alex Kingston's published novel, "The Ruby's Curse." The main character? River Song. For those of you who may not know...Alex is the actress who plays River. Wrap your brains around all that, fellow fanfiction readers and writers! Mine is still blown. P.S, one of my favorite books of all time.
A huge shout-out to the Resauthor for decades of jamming and support. Instagram: resauthor