Early update because I'm going to be away for the weekend.
oOo Doctor, oOo
You hand Theta back to his grandmother, and let the Ponds collect themselves while you pull yourself up and inspect the monitor screen. You've landed in the ruins of the Citadel, maybe fifty years relative time till the end of the war. Too awfully close… There will be rubble all around, but that doesn't mean a TARDIS crashing through the sky and smashing down an abandoned building will go unnoticed. Especially a Type 40 - outdated, no longer in use. It will draw attention. Get out, fast!
You don't want to leave your TARDIS - not here - but you'd hate even more to ask her to fly in her condition. She'll take a few days to heal from a landing like that.
Your destination is a few streets away. You have only minutes to get there - if you're very, very lucky, the Time Lords who come investigating will simply assume that your TARDIS was abandoned, and crashed without any drivers.
"Amy, Rory, time to go," you say.
They groan, but you cut them off. "Just do it," you say, and open the door cautiously. "When I say run, run."
Your eyes scan the surroundings, drinking them in. The plaza you've landed in is formed with gently rounding slopes flowing seamlessly downhill, weaving between and sometimes partially covering the fronts of small dwellings that fit perfectly into the artificial, fixed waterfall of flawless glassy gold.
"And these are the slums," you whisper to Amy and Rory. Then - "Run!"
It's a mad dash out through the open. The suns' warmth shines on your face, and the air, so perfectly tuned to your lungs, gives you so much energy that you know you could outstrip Rory and Amy in a heartbeat. But you stay with them, rounding a corner and continuing along a narrow alley formed by an abrupt ridge of houses.
"Wouldn't - it - be - less - suspicious - if - we - just - walked?" Amy gasps.
You keep running. Down, into a low, small square, around another corner, into an even narrower back lane.
Stop, pant, hands on knees. Respite for a second, before you have to plunge into another, different race and competition of fear.
"Are we there?" Rory says.
"Yeah," you say.
Look around. You're at the entrance of a honey-coloured depression in the shining wall - a few feet away from a door shaped and decorated like the Gallifreyan rune for 'healing'. It's circular with hard, curling, black detailing.
"Come in here," you say, swallowing your guilt and hesitation, and you all slowly approach the door. You put out your hand, and touch the smooth, old-fashioned keys cut into a curve of the rune.
"What are those for?" Amy says.
"They're used to signal who you are to the person who owns the home," you explain, trying to remember what to do. "Type in a password, if you like. Some are secret and unique, like the ones for 'friend' and 'child'. 'Patient', and, in your words, 'pariah'… um, those are universally known."
"Who'd tell everyone they're an outcast?" Rory asks.
"It's considered respectful to lower yourself," you say. "If you've shamed yourself or society somehow, you can use that for a while. Basically like an apology. If the owners of the house forgive you, they open the door and tell you to use another sign to announce yourself. Still, it's not used very often. Lucky I still know it."
And you click a simple four letter combination into the metal.
After five minutes of standing around, Rory and Amy start to get fidgety. It doesn't quite make sense to you, but you ignore it, and wait there, hands behind your back.
You notice blood dripping onto your fingers. Has that little cut on your head really been bleeding that badly? You wonder, with horror, if it has left a trail. Surely not. You glance behind you - all clean. It's fine. Still, why would something so minor be bleeding so much? You wipe the blood from your hair, best you can, and scrub away the stains on the floor with the heel of your shoe, waving away Amy and Rory's worries till they go quiet again.
Three more minutes of waiting, and Amy sighs. "Are they going to answer or not?"
Turn and laugh. "You think this is a long time to wait," you say, realizing.
"Well, yeah," Amy says. "We are on the run, and things."
"Yes, but I doubt anyone expects us to be here - we're probably safe for a minute. Even if they do, this is about a normal amount of time to wait. I stuck around outside someone's door for an hour once, before I figured that nobody likes a government official, and left."
"You worked for the government here?"
"Yup."
"Wha-"
"Sh!" You hiss. "Sorry. I think I hear someone coming."
The door opens.
She's there.
It takes you a second to realize she's regenerated. It must have been old age. Where she used to look young, elderliness has taken over - her hair is short and brown - the face you used to look up into is completely gone.
In that moment, you see her eyes (light brown, now) narrow just a fraction, as she notices the same thing about you.
"Doctor," she greets you.
"Healer," you say - nervous smile, appealing for acceptance, even though it's an insane bid.
"You brought humans?" she whispers, looking over your shoulder.
"Sorry," you say.
"Come in," she snaps, and you wince.
The first thing she does, after the door is closed and bolted, is slap you.
You take it without flinching. After all, you deserve it.
She takes your odd little group silently into the main room of the house. It's relatively large, with a ceiling that shoots straight up for about thirty feet before it meets the glassy roof, which the sunslight glows gold through. At the far end, there is a collection of furniture carved from stone and draped only in shimmering orange material, for looks and not comfort. A smooth, flat table rises out of the floor, but it's so low to the ground it might as well be an obstacle designed to trip you.
The seats are cold to the touch, and you see the Ponds shiver slightly as they lower themselves into them. You wipe your hair free of blood again, and sit down.
"Why are you here?" The Healer says.
"I really need you," you say.
"For what?"
You hold your hands out to Amy, and, without a word, she passes Theta to you.
"He -" you start.
"I'm not going to look at him until I know the whole story," she says.
You glance down at Theta. He's doing even worse than before, as far as you can tell. Put your hand over his, and he grabs your pinky finger, giving a tiny moan.
"Can't you do something?"
"Not until you explain what's going on. Who are these humans? Is this their child? Why have you brought them here?"
Take a deep breath.
"He's my baby," you say.
Mentally watch the bomb drop, whistling as it goes.
"But I can't sense that," she says, obviously guessing at the truth as she gets tenser and tenser.
Detonation engage.
"He's part human," you mutter.
The Healer sits back, shoulders taut, face unchanging. "So you went and had fun with some lower race, and you're bringing me the mess that happened afterwards?"
You wince. Anyone else talking to you like that … well, you would yell at them. But her?
"It's not like that."
"What's it like, then? This one must be special, am I right? This has probably happened dozens of times. I expected so much more from you. But you went and danced with the insects at the edge of the universe, just because you enjoyed it."
Oh, it stings.
Alone, you might back down, mumble something about how River was, after all, half Time Lady, and maybe offer a fragmented apology. But the sight of Amy and Rory sitting there, so in the dark and yet certainly aware enough to catch the insults - that gives you the extra spark you need. And it flares.
"River Song, this child's mother," you say, "was my wife. And I'm not sorry. I thought you, out of everyone, might understand. But even if you couldn't get past your superiority complex and see human beings for what they are, I thought you might at least be able to keep your mouth shut and save a life."
She looks at you, tongue running along teeth.
"So, why do you need me?" She says, after a long silence.
A warning bell suddenly clangs in your head and your hearts skip to double speed. Something's gone wrong. Nothing to do with her - it's only, the soft, small hand that was curled tightly around your finger has loosened its grip.
"I think you're the only person who can save him."
"And why should I?"
"Because he's your bloody grandchild!" you explode. "Mum, we're running out of time. Please, just take him!'
Every nerve in your skin is sharp as your hand meets the Healer's, as she gains possession of the fragile bundle that has just stopped breathing.
I extremely appreciate reviews! Thank you so much again for reading.