Yet Another Time John Reese Wished River Song Hadn't Shown Up, By Dickensian812

One of the last times River met John

New York, 2008

"We're not walking in the dark. We are the dark."

The words lingered in his mind as Kara Stanton slid off her bar stool and walked out. There was poison in that speech, precisely measured and applied (he knew by now that every word Stanton spoke was precisely measured and applied) but still very real, bringing up the bile in his throat.

He couldn't stay there—not with the love of his life just a few steps away—but he couldn't follow Stanton either, not yet. Hastily, but stumbling a little, like a man groping through fog, he made his way to the men's room at the back of the building.

In his distracted state, he failed to notice the shadow that detached itself from the crowd and followed him.

Leaning over the sink, splashing water on his face, Reese became aware of someone standing behind him, reflected in the mirror. More out of habit than genuine caution, his eyes traced the outline of a slender black-clad figure.

It dawned on him gradually (far more gradually than it should have for any red-blooded American male) that it was not the figure of someone who belonged in a men's room.

"River." He straightened, slowly, but didn't turn around. "I should've known."

"Should you?" An eyebrow arched. "We have met before, then."

"Of course we've met, more times than I have the courage to remember. What is this, amnesia?"

"Oh, I remember. I just wasn't sure you would. It's good. Cuts down on explanations."

"What—?"

She glanced behind her. "Which we don't really have time for anyway."

"You could explain what you're doing in a men's—"

"Later." She lunged forward and grabbed his arm as a sudden shouting and pounding on the door erupted behind them. "All you need to know is that I've got something that doesn't belong to me—"

"What a shock."

"Don't interrupt—and I could use a boost out the window. And maybe some kind gentleman to stay behind and fend them off, if you'd be so good?"

John sighed, even as he obliged with the requested boost. He was in the mood for a night of roaming the streets alone, for going somewhere else and getting good and sloshed, maybe for wandering down to the harbor and throwing himself in—for pretty much anything but a fight.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have a lousy sense of timing?" he muttered.

On the point of pulling herself through the window, River looked over her shoulder and favored him with a brilliant smile. "On the contrary, John. I think I've timed it rather well." She ducked her head and wriggled through, just as the first of the thugs burst through the door.

A few busted heads and shattered kneecaps later, Reese was walking River through the alley behind the bar. He was just starting to enjoy the peaceful silence between them, when she abruptly broke it.

"She was wrong, you know."

"Excuse me?"

"About you." She glanced at him sideways. "All that 'We are the dark' business."

Reese closed his eyes briefly. For a few blessed moments he had almost forgotten. "River, I really don't want to talk about that."

"No, listen." River stepped in front of him, forcing him to halt. "You need to hear this." She looked him in the eye and enunciated clearly, like a teacher trying to help a backward student. "She was wrong. That isn't you."

Reese exhaled, trying not very successfully to conceal his frustration. "Are you forgetting that you have amnesia?"

"Don't change the subject. Even if it was the first time I met you, how could I forget what the Doctor told me about you?"

"Your doctor? Right. I don't know your doctor." The words came out more brusquely than he had intended them to.

"You'll meet him someday. You'll learn to trust him like I do." She nodded slowly, seriously. "We've had our differences, the Doctor and I. Mostly about fezzes. But he's a pretty good judge of character, all told."

"But I've never met—"

"John." She laid a hand on his arm, gently but urgently. "You don't need to understand. He knows you. And I know you, now. The man who saved my life."

As John stared at her, she squeezed his arm and then stepped back. "I need to go. But remember what I've said, John." They were nearly at the intersection between the alley and the street. She glanced around her one more time as she started to move away. "Oh—and give my love to Harold, will you?"

Automatically, John started to reply in the affirmative, then stopped with a puzzled expression. "Wait—Harold who?"

But River was gone.