Serenity: Present
"So many voices whispering under the surface," River said, gazing at the Doctor curiously. "Old man, young man, teeth, curls, and scarecrow. You hear them too don't you?" She tilted her head thinking. "What is the plural of 'me'? Is it seven minds speaking with a single voice, or seven voices but only one mind? A perfect circle, where does it begin and where does it end?"
The Doctor didn't look up from the game. "Best not to look too deeply in here," he tapped his forehead. "Sometimes even I get lost."
"But I can't shut them out!"
"Practice makes perfect," he answered lightly.
"How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?"
"Not enough," the Doctor said.
"Eighth man bound," River murmured.
The Doctor looked up sharply. "Not in the near future, I trust?" The Doctor paused. "Will I be ginger?"
River shrugged apologetically. "Make no sound," was her answer.
"I was afraid you'd say that. You're move."
"The moves don't matter, only the faces count."
"The faces?"
"Carved out of bones," River said. "Is the Queen frowning? Are the rooks smiling? Can't play the game, if you don't know the faces."
"And I assume, you know the faces?"
"Know the faces, know the thoughts, can't not, can't not. I just want it to stop, Doctor. I just want the voices to stop! When will I have the silence back?"
"Control is a skill," the Doctor said. "it can be learned like any other. As for when…time is a river. The seconds, the hours, the days, all flow like water. Some when downriver you've already mastered that skill, you've already found the silence. It's just a matter of catching up with yourself." He stood up slowly. "Thank you for the game. I need to have a word or three with the captain."
"Doctor," her voice stopped him. "I am River."
"Yes you are," the Doctor grinned. "the genuine article." Reaching over he tapped her lightly on the nose, and then he was gone.
River glanced down at the board. The Doctor had checkmate in three moves. Perhaps the game wasn't so simple, after all. "Aces and eight," River murmured softly. "Aces and eight."
Persephone: Four Weeks Ago
Her room was empty. There were signs of a struggle: a broken table and drying blood on the floor. It wasn't Ace's blood; the Doctor was relieved to see. No, it wasn't Ace's blood. She had put up a fight, and more importantly, she was alive. The Doctor took a deep breath. Must think logically. Of course she was alive. She was useless to Sefton dead. Her investigations must have caught his eye. The kidnappings on Persephone had always been the weakest link in Sefton's chain. He must have been watching very closely, protecting his flank. Now he had Ace, presumably to use as a bargaining chip.
Complications, there were always complications. The Doctor frowned. Events had already been set into motion. Traps had already been sprung. Turning back was not an option. The endgame had begun before Ace was kidnapped. This just meant there was an added step—rescue Ace. Not impossible, just delicate. It was all a matter of timing.
For a moment he saw Ace lying dead on the wood floor. For a moment, he wondered if the blood could have been hers. He shook it off. Ace was alive, he was sure of it. He would have known if she was dead, would have felt it like a knife in his hearts. No, Ace was alive…for now. Something cold flashed in his eyes, a deep alien anger. It was gone, as quickly as it came. The Doctor turned and strolled out of the apartment. He didn't look back.