CHAPTER THREE

The Question of River Song

"River Song was a peculiar sort of friend for another reason, as well. You see, from the time she was born, she had been horribly deceived. She had been told that she should hate the Doctor, that he was an evil man and that it was her job to protect the people he wanted to hurt.

"When she met him, of course, she discovered this wasn't the case. The Doctor was a very good man, not an evil one. But knowing this only filled River with more and more questions. She knew that she'd been lied to, but she didn't remember who had done this terrible thing and she certainly couldn't fathom why. In fact, she didn't remember much about being a little girl at all. And she thought, quite rightly, that if the Doctor knew so very much about her, perhaps he also knew about the things in her past that she couldn't remember.

"But the time-traveling Doctor was not so willing to tell her the entire story. He had lived much longer than she and had known her for many years now. He did, in fact, know a great deal more about her than she knew about herself. But much of what she asked could only be answered by information she would uncover in her future - things he couldn't tell her. Still, he was astonished to find that she knew so little about who she was and where she'd come from..."

*X*X*X*

"Do you know who programmed me to kill you?"

He glanced at her curiously as they walked down a narrow street in Queens, New York in the 34th century, taking in the relaxed atmosphere of a long weekend in summer. The street was surprisingly empty, but the balconies above were buzzing with life - layer upon layer of laughter and jabbering in a hundred familiar, Earth languages and at least a dozen from off-world.

"Interesting choice of words, 'programmed'." Glancing up and around at their surroundings, he let his voice trail off as he finished. "Almost dehumanizing..."

She shrugged. "You said yourself that I'm not exactly human."

His brow creased as he glanced back at her. "That's not what I meant."

"Well, call it what you want: programming, brainwashing, training. The fact of the matter is that someone wants you dead and they chose me as the weapon. I'd like to know who and why."

"You mean you don't?"

"No."

"Interesting..."

His thoughts wandered for a moment. There was always a chance that she was lying, but he doubted it. She wasn't quite savvy enough, this early in her time stream, to lie to him. At least, not convincingly. She knew nothing about the Silence, and perhaps that was for the best. She would know soon enough, when Madame Kavorian pulled her from the library and put her in another astronaut's suit in the bottom of Lake Silencio. But she had plenty of time before she had to worry about that.

"You're avoiding the question, Doctor."

"Am I? Sorry, what was the question?"

"Do you know who was responsible? Maybe even why?"

"No. I don't." He paused. "But there's no shortage of people in the universe who want me dead. Eleven hundred years - and that's not even real time... Bound to make some enemies."

"Eleven hundred...? You certainly look good for your age."

He smiled, preening subtly. "I know."

"So which face is this?"

He paused. "Eleventh."

"And how many do you have?"

"Thirteen." He glanced at her curiously. "You really don't know this?"

She laughed. "How could I?"

"How could you not? Three regenerations - at least; those are just the ones I count - and you thought what? That it was something everyone did when they were dying? I don't buy that for a minute."

"I told you, I knew I was different," she answered simply. "I'm well aware that regeneration is not a human process. But considering the first time I regenerated I was a child and the second time you didn't exactly stick around to explain the intricacies of it, I've had to figure things out on my own. The only way I knew they were limited was because of what my mother said in the hospital!"

"Third."

She blinked, confused. "Excuse me?"

"Three regenerations," he corrected. "Four faces."

"No."

He paused mid-step and turned to look at her, brow raised.

"Two regenerations. Three faces."

That wasn't right. He stared at her for a long moment, evaluating her honesty. But she truly believed what she was saying.

"You weren't a child when you regenerated the first time or else you wouldn't have regenerated into an adult the third time."

"Why not?"

"Because that's how it works. Your first regeneration sets the template for later times - what age and state of maturity you can take. You came back as an adult which means you regenerated, the first time, as an adult. Not a child."

He studied her carefully, waiting to see how she responded. Was he telling her something she really didn't know? Apparently, he was. She was eyeing him skeptically, as if she didn't quite believe him. "The first time I remember regenerating, I was a child in the middle of New York. Not far from here, come to think of it."

"The first time you remember."

"Well, it isn't exactly something you forget!" She paused, and frowned. "Do you?"

"Not without help."

"What sort of help? What do you mean?"

He looked away again. "The kind you don't remember, obviously."

"Are you saying I've regenerated more than twice?"

"Quite likely. Unless there's something else about the way your human genes changed your Time Lord ones that I don't know about."

"And how likely is that?"

"Very not likely, actually."

"So you're saying that I have an entire lifetime that I don't remember?"

"Probably when all of that 'programming' you mentioned took place. If I had to guess."

He watched her quietly as she unclenched her hands and slumped, deflating a bit as if this was all just too much to take at once. With a slight, sympathetic smile, he reached up and ignored her tiny flinch as he gently bushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear. There were no words, just a quiet, comforting gesture to remind her that he (somehow) had it all under control. She smiled tightly as she looked up at him.

"Thank you."

He nodded once, calmly, and slipped his hand over hers, squeezing gently as they continued down the street at a relaxed pace. "So tell me again. Why archaeology?"

Her studies were her life at this point in her time stream. It was a topic of discussion over which she had control, and there would be no surprises, no unexpected revelations to deal with. A safe topic. And one in which he already knew the answers to the questions.

"Primarily, to try to find you. Or at least information about you."

He laughed softly, but didn't interrupt.

"I wanted to be able to find ways to locate you when I wanted to instead of just waiting for you to appear. But I also wanted to try to find out more about who I was, where I came from. Though that's been a bit of a dead end until now."

"What do you mean, a dead end?"

"I told you, the Time Lords are a legend. A fairy tale. Even more so than you are, if you can believe it. At least there are eye witness accounts of you."

"The Time Lords did their best to stay out of other peoples' history books."

"Why?"

"Little something called the Non-Interference Policy." He took a deep breath as he recited from memory. "A Time Lord stepping out into the universe freezes time wheresoever their feet touch the ground, wheresoever they draw breath from the atmosphere and at that moment, their mere presence would change time, from a fluid to a solid thing, yada, yada, yada... All very regulated. Look but don't touch, touch but don't experience, and if you make it from one side of the universe to the other without disturbing the fragile strands of the Web of Time, you can count yourself a success. Paranoia, if you ask me. The Web of Time isn't nearly as fragile as they'd have you think, back then. But at the same time I did know a few renegades in my day - one in particular comes to mind - whose meddling with events in history caused all sorts of trouble that never should've happened. Invasions, massacres... One of those Dalek invasions of Earth was his doing, actually. So I guess it wasn't all just for show."

She was listening with curiosity. He could see it in her eyes. Finally, he was giving her something she wanted. And, all things considered, it was one of the safer topics they could breach. Even if he wasn't entirely thrilled about discussing Gallifrey. He hesitated a moment, considering his willingness very carefully before he gave her carte blanche.

"Alright, so what else? What do you want to know about the Time Lords?"

She could sense his apprehension, and she hesitated appropriately. "Whatever you're comfortable sharing."

"None of it," he answered immediately, then looked pointedly at her as he softened his tone. "But I will. I think you -"

His heart was beating faster. Just a fraction. Blood moving faster, pulse... respiration... a microspan out of sync. His head was turned a little further to the right than he remembered it being a moment before. River's eyes were wider, though her expression quickly relaxed. And he was holding something. A black permanent marker. He swallowed as he turned his hand palm up and saw the tally. Two.

Damn it.

Two was not a lot, but it would've been more than he cared to keep company with even if it had only been one. He closed his fist around the dashes as he slipped the marker inconspicuously into his pocket.

"We should find somewhere else to talk," he declared. "Come on."

*X*X*X*

"The Doctor was right to leave quickly. For what he had seen was a hideous monster, too terrible to be recorded in the minds of living creatures. No one knows what they look like, for when you look away, you forget you've ever seen them. These were the creatures responsible for the life - the creation - of River Song. These evil creatures, identified only by a little mark on the Doctor's palm, were known as the Silence. And they were never to be far from the Doctor's mind."