Title: Half Sick of Shadows (Chapter Five)
Author: E.A. Week
E-mail: eaweek at hotmail-dot-COM
Date of publication: May 2012.
Summary: The barren planet Gossan holds a powerful secret, one that is somehow connected to River Song's release from prison. Can River and the Eleventh Doctor defeat the Papal Mainframe, or will they become its prisoners for all eternity?
Category: Doctor Who. Eleven/ River.
Distribution: Feel free to link to this story from another web page, but please drop me at least a brief e-mail and let me know you've done this.
Feedback: Letters of comment are always welcome! Loved it? Hated it? Send me an email and let me know why!
Disclaimer: Copyrights to all characters in this story belong to their respective creators, production companies, and studios. I'm just borrowing them, honest!
The story title is shamelessly stolen from the ballad "The Lady of Shalott," by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.
Datclaimer: This story is rated M for sex, language, and mild gore/ violence.
Continuity (PLEASE read this): This story follows after the events of Doctor Who, season six. I assume that this story will be rendered apocryphal/ alt-universe/ moot/ irrelevant once Steven Moffat decides to continue telling the story of the Silence. This is my version of how events might play out.
Chapter Five
When they finally got out of bed, River was famished. She wasn't sure how much time had passed—she was guessing it had been a day or longer since the lunch on Symestine. In her rucksack she found a sports bar in a foil packet. Munching the processed oats and almonds, she said, "Sweetie, we need to get some real food. This won't hold me for long."
The Doctor adjusted his bow tie and tugged on one of his tweed jackets. "What do you fancy?" he asked.
"Breakfast," River said. "Something lavish, with loads of bacon and Belgian waffles."
"I know just the place." The Doctor combed his hair, making a face at all the silver, before tossing down the comb and striding out to the console room.
He materialized the TARDIS on Earth, alongside a diner whose scents caused River to salivate like Pavlov's dogs. The owner of the place knew the Doctor— "Can't thank you enough for clearing up that little problem in the basement—" and said the food was on the house. River ordered an enormous platter of everything that looked good: an omelet, bacon, fried potatoes, waffles, all of it washed down with cups of excellent coffee. The Doctor had eggs, toast, and tea.
"Are you dieting?" River taunted.
"Well, you know how it is at my age," he smiled, causing River's toes to curl.
When they left, River said, "I need to go back to the University, let Professor Candy know I'm a free agent again."
Luna University in the year 5150 had scarcely changed since River's time as a student. It occupied a large portion of Earth's lunar base, secure beneath its glassy dome. Since the thirty-first century, the moon had been colonized, nearly the entire satellite encased in climate- and gravity-controlled bubbles. The domes were tinted to protect the colonists from the sun's harshest rays, and through the glass, Earth could be glimpsed as a far-away blue-green crescent.
River dug out a key she'd been carrying for decades, zipped into an inner pocket of her clothes, wherever she went.
"Here," she told the Doctor. "My flat is five streets east of here, in a block—"
"I've been there," he said.
River stared for a beat, then remembered a couple of centuries had passed for him since the last time she'd seen him—years during which they'd had adventures together, events River had yet to experience. Eventually, River knew, she'd see him again when he was younger, and she'd need to keep the momentous past few days from him. Secrets and spoilers—nothing ever really changed.
The administration buildings had been modeled after the grand universities of Earth, the architecture a bizarre mashup of medieval, Renaissance, Baroque, and Victorian. Pebbled pathways connected the buildings. Each moon settlement or station was small enough to traverse on foot, so there were no vehicles. Travel between settlements was done primarily by transmat modules. Trees, planted in the artificial soil, proliferated, lending a warm, humid atmosphere that permitted the wearing of lightweight clothes. Birds, tiny descendants of breeding pairs brought from Earth, sang and called in the leafy canopy.
River didn't recognize any of the students—they were all so young!—and none of them gave her a second glance. She strode into the building that housed Anthropology and Archeology, tracing the familiar path to Professor Candy's office. En route, she stopped in the vast fifth-floor library, formerly her favorite haunt, and found the alcove where she'd been working when Madame Kovarian had abducted her. Pale daylight filled the small space, but otherwise, it was unchanged. River expected to have a stronger emotional reaction—anguish or rage or despair—but she felt very little. It was only a room, after all. River traced her fingertips along the back of a chair before leaving to find Professor Candy.
His booming, authoritative voice announced his presence from all the way down the corridor. He was in seminar with the advanced archeology doctoral candidates, some of whose theses River had edited. The pudgy young man who sat feverishly typing notes into a handheld computer—that would be the one who'd stepped on the fossil. River could tell by the hunch of his shoulders, his faint air of desperation. The shrewish young woman with the bored expression and shifty gaze—that would be the one who'd had too free a hand with her data analysis.
When Professor Candy spotted River standing in the doorway, he stopped in mid-sentence, speechless for perhaps the first time in his life. Then he was on his feet, bellowing with inarticulate happiness as he swept her into his arms. River embraced him gently—he wasn't young, after all.
"Free at last!" Professor Candy exulted. "We heard the good news—a universal pardon! I knew that trial was a sham! Lady Candy has already been over to freshen your apartment, take the sheets off the furniture, put in some provisions—your timing is excellent; a freighter from Earth just made a delivery of foodstuffs. Lady Candy insists you join us for dinner as soon as you're able."
"Thank you," River said, laughing at his voluble welcome, but touched nevertheless.
Professor Candy turned to his students. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is Dr. River Song, my protégée—wrongly convicted of murder, but now pardoned by the Shadow Proclamation and blessedly free, among us once again."
"Hello," River smiled.
The students applauded, one of the younger women even jumping up to shake River's hand.
"We've heard so much about you," the student gushed. "You're a legend in the department. All the tutors and instructors and professors tell the most wonderful stories about you."
"I'll bet they do," River said, thinking of the staff she'd bedded during her student days—too many to count. She told Professor Candy, "I'll catch you up later."
She took her time walking to her apartment, strolling along the pebbled avenues, sniffing the scent of flowers planted in neat beds and borders. Luna University, secure within its bubble of artificial atmosphere, had been the first place River had known true freedom, freedom from the Silence, from the incessant conditioning and training. It was during her university years that she'd begun researching the Doctor, reading everything about him she could find, although now she knew those accounts couldn't begin to convey even a fragment of his true nature. Certainly those stories couldn't impart to the reader the sheer giddy joy of traveling with him, the wonder of seeing the universe across all of time. But it had been through those tales—myths and legends—as well as Amelia's childhood stories and games—that River had fallen in love with him.
Later, River learned that her freedom had been an illusion. The Silence had always known where she was—when she'd escaped the orphanage, when she'd failed to return to Leadworth after Berlin—they'd followed her, biding their time, allowing her to grow complacent before snapping shut the jaws of their trap yet again. Probably they'd been keeping tabs on her in Stormcage as well. River would only be free of them when the order was not only destroyed but completely discredited, all their evil and crimes exposed.
Her apartment was in a block of red brick buildings, designed to look like fashionable old neighborhoods from Earth cities. Each building stood four stories high, ornamented with bay windows and decorative brick embellishments. River's flat was on the third floor. The front windows overlooked the street; the rear windows overlooked a small garden. For the past twenty years, Professor and Lady Candy had been maintaining the place, paying the rent, unshakable in their conviction of River's innocence and their confidence in her eventual return.
The door to her flat stood slightly ajar. River felt a prickle of apprehension, and she cursed herself for sending the Doctor back here alone—it would be the first place the Silence would look for him, for her. Without making a noise, River unshouldered her rucksack and drew out her blaster, switching off the safety. She nudged open the door with her foot, entering the flat, spinning in blindingly fast circles, keeping her body low as she scanned every corner.
"You can put the gun down," a voice teased.
River exhaled, walking through the front parlor to the kitchen. "Sweetie, you should be more careful—it's not safe here—" She stopped short. Red and white and purple balloons floated up near the ceiling, plates had been set out on the table, along with a pot of tea in a knitted cozy. The Doctor sat at the table, grinning widely.
"Welcome home!" a familiar voice called. Amy emerged from the bedroom, a giftwrapped box in her hands.
"Mother!" River circled the table to embrace Amy. "Mhhmm, you smell wonderful—is that a new scent?"
"It's last year's," Amy said. She handed the box to River. "This is new—it's yours."
River tore off the gold foil wrap. The posh red box bore a G-clef embossed in gold, and beneath it, in an elegant swirling scroll, was the word
MELODY
and beneath it, in a smaller font
The song of your heart.
"Oh, I love it!" River gushed. "This is so clever!"
"I hope you like the scent," said Amy, sounding nervous. "That's a prototype—we're rolling out the new line next fall."
River opened the box and shrieked with delight. The perfume bottle had been designed to resemble one of River's infamous shoes—spike-heeled, the exact same shade of fuck-me red. She didn't miss the Doctor's shift in posture, the slight change in his breathing.
River removed the cap and sprayed a fine mist onto each wrist. The scent was both floral and spicy, with faint notes of roses and jasmine, beneath which lurked a hint of vanilla musk. The perfume was distinctly different from Petrichor, Amy's signature scent, which no less an authority than Vogue had called "Chanel No. 5 for the twenty-first century."
"Mmmm," said River, inhaling deeply. "Well, my life is complete now—I've had a perfume named for me." She glanced up, startled to see a momentary expression of grief and dismay on the Doctor's face, as if the scent had caused him to recall some unbearable sadness.
"Sweetie?" she said. "If you don't like it, I can wash it off."
"No," he said, perhaps too quickly. He forced a smile. "It suits you."
"You clever beast," she told him. "Did you go all the way back to Earth to bring Mum and Dad here to surprise me?"
"Your release from prison needs a celebration," Amy said. "It's a family event."
"So, where's Daddy?"
"Right here," a voice called from the bedroom, where River guessed the Doctor had parked the TARDIS. "Someone needed a fresh nappy to be socially acceptable."
Rory emerged, and River's jaw dropped. Her father carried in his arms an infant clad in a bright purple romper suit.
"Oh, my God!" River said. She began laughing. "Girl or boy?"
"Boy," Amy and Rory chorused.
"I have a brother?" River couldn't stop laughing. "Please tell me you didn't name him Christopher."
"Ew," said Amy wrinkling her nose. "Why would we call him Christopher? His name is Robert James. We call him Robbie."
"Want to hold him?" asked Rory.
"I'd love to." River took the baby, a surprisingly substantial weight. "He's a big boy."
With a grimace, Amy said, "Yeah, it was loads of fun pushing him out."
Rory kissed her cheek. "At least I was there with you this time."
River cuddled the infant boy, who was blinking up at her, halfway between asleep and awake. "What age is he?"
"Four months," said Rory.
"How'd he cope with his first trip in the TARDIS?" asked River.
"His first and last trip," Rory corrected. Amy shot him a look, so Rory added, "For a while, anyway."
"He's a natural," Amy beamed. "Eyes wide open the whole time, didn't cry or even fuss at all the racket." She cooed to the baby, "Aren't you my good boy?"
River laughed. Robbie was too baby-faced right now to get a real sense of how he'd look as an adult, but his eyes were the clear gray of rain clouds, his hair a downy-soft cap of apricot-colored fuzz. He appeared to have no eyebrows, which gave his face a solemn, egg-like shape.
"He's going to be ginger," River said. She glanced over at the Doctor, who looked happy for his friends, but his smile couldn't dispel the melancholy in his eyes. "How does it feel to have a brother-in-law?"
"Brother-in-law?" he huffed. "Bit of a mouthful for someone still in nappies."
"Well, I'm your wife and Robbie's my brother… that makes him your brother-in-law."
"Let's get one thing straight." Rory pointed an index finger at the Doctor's chest. "You are not taking him out for his stag do. Got it?"
"Got it," the Doctor said. "No trips in the TARDIS for Robbie… without express parental permission, naturally."
"So is this it for you?" River asked her parents. "Two children? Or haven't you decided yet?"
Amy and Rory glanced at each other.
"Not just yet," Amy said. "I'm still nursing Robbie, and I'd like him out of nappies before we have another one."
Rory said, "We always talked about having two kids, but… you know."
"Two kids you actually raise yourselves," River finished.
"Yeah," said Rory. "Not that I'm blaming you for… for, you know."
"It's all right," River said, keeping her voice sympathetic. The atmosphere in the room had become strained and uncomfortable, so she turned her attention to the table. "What's all this, then?"
Amy brightened as she uncovered a three tier tea tray. River recognized it from her parents' home on Earth—how strange to see it here, on this moon colony in the far future. Amy had provided sandwiches, scones, and sweets, along with a pot of steaming hot tea. After the large breakfast, River wasn't remotely hungry, but she sat and ate anyway. The Doctor drank only one cup of tea and nibbled on the edge of a scone. River couldn't get past how mournful he appeared. Was it the sadness of seeing Amy and Rory with their family, knowing his own was lost and he'd likely never have another one? Or the lingering grief and guilt at his failure to rescue River from the Silence when she'd been an infant?
"So, what now?" Rory asked River. The food had been consumed, and Amy was pouring second and third cups of tea. "Are you going to get a proper job, or what?"
River said, "I can't stay here for long. This is the first place the Silence will come looking for me." She told Amy and Rory about the destruction of Gossan and the Papal Mainframe. Amy pumped her fist and yelled, "Yeah!" when River told her the Silence had completely lost the Headless Monks, their most incorruptible warriors.
"Can they all be wiped out now?" Amy asked, leaning across the table in her eagerness. "The Silents—Madame Kovarian—the Clerics—what about that lot?"
"Bit bloodthirsty there, aren't you?" asked Rory.
Amy said, "I have a score to settle with them."
The Doctor said, "There's going to be a battle. I know where, I'm just not sure when. But it's coming soon." He glanced around the table. "I'll need as much help as possible. People I can trust."
"We'll be there," said Amy. "Just come get us."
But Rory was shaking his head.
"No," he said. "No way." He shifted Robbie onto his shoulder; the tyke was almost asleep now. "I don't want the Silence coming after another one of my kids." His gaze settled on River, eyes full of aching sadness. "I never got to hold you when you were a baby, not even once. I lost out on everything—all those years. You've been a great friend, really brilliant, but it's different from raising a kid yourself. Amy and I missed everything—all the milestones, the birthdays, the holidays." He shook his head. "I'm not going through that again. I held it together the first time because I had to, but if that ever happened again…" His shoulders rose and fell. "It would kill me."
River exhaled. She hadn't realized, until this moment, how much it had hurt Rory to lose his firstborn. He hadn't been there for Amy's pregnancy or the birth of the baby. He'd missed watching his daughter grow up. True, they'd been childhood chums, but Mels had really been Amy's friend, much more than Rory's. Anyway, a childhood friend, or an adult friend you saw from time to time, was very different from a child you'd raised yourself. No matter how many more children Amy and Rory had, it would never fill that gaping chasm in their lives. The wound wouldn't really heal—time would just make it more bearable.
"All right," the Doctor said simply.
Amy turned to Rory, her face twisted into a scowl, but at a look from him, she clamped her mouth shut, slumping a bit in her seat and saying nothing. Rory had asked for so little in their relationship, wanting only her love, but on this one thing, Amy would not go against his wishes. Her gaze lingered on Robbie, now sound asleep with his thumb in his mouth, and her expression softened.
"Yeah," she said. She told the Doctor, "Sorry."
"Don't apologize," he said. River knew he would never force a friend to fight for him, especially not the Ponds, who'd already suffered so much on his behalf.
"Good luck," Rory said awkwardly. "I mean, you know—whenever."
"Yeah," said Amy, her voice toneless. "Kill them a lot."
There didn't seem much to say after that. Amy gathered up her tea set. Rory went ahead of her into the TARDIS with Robbie. The Doctor followed.
"Be right back," he told River. "Just need to get them home."
"Don't be too long," River said. They still had much to discuss.
He went inside. Amy said quietly to River, "I'm so sorry. It's just—Rory—I can't—"
"I completely understand," River said. "The Doctor doesn't expect you to put your family in danger, especially after all you've been through."
Amy said, "I wish I could be there. I want to fight them. God help me, I want to look Madame Kovarian in the eyes when she's dying and know I got the better of her."
"I will," River promised. "I'll do it for you, Mother, I swear it."
"Thank you."
River asked, "Want me to bring you her head on a spike?"
Amy barked a short, toneless laugh. "No… just her eye drive."
"Consider it done," River smiled. "It'll make a nice key chain."
They hugged, and Amy slipped inside the TARDIS. A few moments later, the sounds of dematerialization began, and River stepped back, watching the box fade from view. She wondered if that would be Amy and Rory's last trip in the time machine, and if they would spend the rest of their years in Leadworth, thinking about the Doctor and all the adventures—the good, the bad, the horrific—they'd shared with him.
(ii)
The Doctor had put River's trunk and bags in her bedroom, so she began to unpack, sorting through her things. Even though she likely wouldn't be staying here for long, she didn't think it would hurt to set up the flat as a decoy of sorts—perhaps she could mislead the Silence into thinking she was settling back into her life at the University.
She checked the setting on her blaster, then buckled the leather utility belt about her waist, holstering the weapon in its familiar place on her right hip. She looked over the vortex manipulator, running a quick diagnostics test to be sure it was functioning properly, and fastened the device around her left wrist. She didn't want ever to be taken unawares again, especially not now, with war coming. She re-packed her rucksack with a couple of sets of clean clothes. She wondered what the Doctor was planning, how much he'd learned about the Silence during the past couple of centuries.
She was tidying up the kitchen when a high-pitched whine announced the immanent arrival of the TARDIS. The ship materialized in the center of the kitchen, and a moment later, the door opened and the Doctor popped out.
"Cab for Dr. Song," he called out. "Get your coat—there's a Haxalian uprising on Cep Cassalon, and the Policy Hive is at sixes and sevens…" He trailed off, flummoxed by River's expression. "What? What happened?"
"You're young," said River, staring.
The Doctor adjusted his bow tie. "I'm 1286," he huffed. He wore a tweed jacket that River had not seen before, one with flecks of black, white, and rust in the weave. A white shirt and a bronze-colored bow tie complimented the tweed. His trousers and shoes were black. He was clean-shaven, his hair cut short and showing not a trace of silver.
His gaze made a circuit of the kitchen, taking everything in with one swift glance. "What's this? Why aren't you in Stormcage?"
"Spoilers," River said.
He scrutinized her face. "What age are you?"
"Spoilers," River repeated. "You need to leave, Sweetie."
Hurt and indignant, he asked, "What? Why?"
"Because your future self is on his way here, and you don't want to cross your own time stream."
He was looking out the window, squinting. "Artificial atmosphere." Tilting his head almost down to his shoulder, he said, "I can see Earth… we're on a moon base… which for you means Luna University. Why are you back here?"
"You really need to go," River said.
"When'd you leave prison? Were you pardoned, or did you just break out again?"
"You know I can't answer those questions," River said. "That's still to come for you. But I can tell you this much—you'll know when it's time. It will start with scones. Currant scones."
"Scones?" he said. "What kind of rubbish hint is that?"
River laughed, pushing him back into the TARDIS. "You'll find out," she said. "Now, shoo—or your older self will give you a scolding, and you know how insufferable you always find yourself."
He jabbed a finger in River's direction before he departed. "This had better be worth it," he said. "I'm quite miffed, you know."
"It will be worth it," River smiled, "I promise." She pulled the TARDIS door shut. A moment later, the ship departed in a loud grinding, thumping chorus, fading out to a high-pitched whine.
She was sitting on her sofa reading doctoral manuscripts when the ship re-appeared. River set aside her reading material, and when the Doctor emerged, she was relieved to see it was his older, silver-haired self. Seeing him at two different points in his time stream, in such rapid succession, made River more keenly aware of how old he'd grown.
"Pond family, safely delivered home," he announced.
"No unexpected detours en route?" River asked.
"As dull as it gets."
"Should I get my bag?" she asked. "Do you want me to come with you now?"
He grinned, opening the TARDIS door a bit wider. River went into the bedroom to fetch her rucksack. She left the dissertation manuscripts in her sitting room, her pen casually tossed down, as if she'd stepped out and would be returning at any moment. She checked the computer that controlled the automatic lights, which would switch on and off depending on the time of day. Thanks to Lady Candy, there was food in the fridge and pantry. A damp tea towel dried on a small rack by the sink. River's bags and trunk were still in her bedroom, her clothing scattered about; her doctoral robe hung on a hanger from a hook over the cupboard door. The façade might not fool the Silence for long, but with luck, it would throw them off her scent for a while.
Once inside the TARDIS, she said, "You can't blame Amy and Rory, Doctor. They have a baby to look after, now."
He fussed with a few controls, saying nothing. She knew how disappointed he must be, that his wife's parents, who had more reason than anyone to want the Silence brought down, would not be at his side for the final battle.
"Tell me what you know," River said after a beat. "Are you going to try to raise another army?"
"That didn't work out so well the last time." He didn't look at River as he spoke.
"No, but you're going to need friends," River said. "And really, if you're going to strike, it should be soon—the Silence might be in disarray now, but they'll regroup quickly, especially if they think you're gunning for them."
The Doctor didn't answer. Instead, he circled around the console and drew River into his arms, treating her to a long, hungry kiss.
"Sweetie?" River said. "We need to talk about this. The Silence won't rest until they—mff." Her words were lost in the next bout of epic liplock.
"All right," she said. "Is this your plan—just shag until they—mmm." River made no further protests. The Doctor locked the TARDIS controls, which would keep the ship in the time vortex indefinitely. Then he took River's hand, leading her up the stairs to their bedroom.
(iii)
He wanted the works this time, and River saw no reason not to indulge him. She changed into her black corset, the one with the red stitching, black silk thigh-high stockings, a wispy black silk thong, and her red shoes. She coated her lips with the hallucinogenic lipstick and gave her hair an extra toss before emerging into the bedroom, where the Doctor was already completely naked, lying with an expectant look. He swallowed hard when River held out the handcuffs, then lowered his gaze. She well recognized that look, which told her, "Do with me as you will."
She handcuffed him to the brass headboard, his body drawn long and taut. River ran her fingertips down the insides of his arms, across the ridges of his pectoral muscles, and down to his ribs. Then she leaned down and kissed his nipples, smearing each hard point with her lipstick.
It took only a few seconds for the drug to cross into the bloodstream, and the Doctor arched his back, groaning in evident delight at the visions that crossed through his mind's eye.
River laughed, caressing his chest. "Like that, do you?" He continued making happy, inarticulate noises as River used her hands and mouth on him, leaving not an inch of skin unattended to. When he was covered with red lip-prints, River straddled his hips, guiding his hard shaft of flesh inside herself, sighing as she sank down.
She watched his face as she rode him, listening to his moans of delight. By now, enough of the drug was in his system to render him gibbering and delirious. River timed her movements expertly, pleasuring herself as well as him, like a courtesan using all her skills to gratify a king. At the end, he threw back his head, shouting something in his own language that not even River could understand. Her own release followed immediately after, waves of throbbing, gushing, wetness. He lay panting for a while, still lost in the netherworld of erotic delight. The drug's hallucinogenic effect began to lessen, and he slept. River unlocked the cuffs and lay down beside him, slipping into effortless slumber.
(iv)
When she awoke, the Doctor was still asleep, an odd thing. Normally he would awaken as soon as the drug wore off. River frowned, studying his sleeping face. His chest rose and fell in a regular rhythm, but she couldn't dispel a sense that something was off-kilter with him. In an effort to distract herself, she went down the corridor to the elaborate TARDIS baths and filled the sunken marble tub with hot water. While she bathed, she ruminated.
Their recent bouts of passion weren't that unusual. The Doctor, as far as River knew, tended to go through long stretches of celibacy, centuries at a time, interspersed with brief periods of intense sexual activity. Even in the context of their marriage, he almost never initiated sex. River could count on the fingers of one hand the times when she hadn't been the one to make the first move. That didn't bother her—in addition to his shyness, he was submissive in the extreme, a tendency that Time Lord culture probably had done nothing to diminish.
Quite possibly, the greatest battle of his life—or one of the greatest—loomed on the horizon, staring him in the face… and his response to the threat was to hide the ship in the time vortex, make love to his wife, and sleep. River kept thinking about his face, his eyes, the way he'd been looking at her all during this adventure… and the way he'd looked at Amy and Rory. River was used to his sadness, but he'd gazed at all three of them as if he were mentally saying farewell.
On a sudden impulse, River hopped out of the tub, wrapped herself in a thick, terrycloth dressing gown, and slid her feet into a pair of cork-soled sandals. From the baths she followed the corridors out toward the console room, swinging into the medical room. No matter the configuration of the TARDIS rooms, the medical area was always the first room on the right off the console room. River stood in the center of the room, turning in slow circles, not really sure what she was looking for. A microscope on a far counter caught her eye: nearby lay a glass slide, three bottles of chemical stains, alcohol wipes, and a sterile lancet. The tiny trace of blood on the lancet was brown and dry. The alcohol wipes were similarly desiccated. Heart pounding, River switched on the microscope and placed the glass slide beneath the lens.
(v)
She sat reading beside their bed, still wrapped in the terry dressing gown, until he awoke. He sat up, blinking, as if trying to get himself oriented. River knew how difficult this must be for him; he normally never experienced grogginess.
"Hello, Sweetie," she said.
He studied her expression for a moment, then said, "You know." It was a statement, not a question.
River reached into a pocket of her dressing gown and, without saying anything, held up the glass slide.
The Doctor's face fell. "Aah," he said.
"Even in the TARDIS, you should always destroy anything that has your blood on it," River chided. "You know perfectly well what could happen if it fell into the wrong hands."
He didn't answer, so River said, "Were you too distracted to bother?"
"Something like that," he shrugged.
"How long have you known?"
"A while," he said.
"What symptoms tipped you off?" asked River. "I assume you didn't run a blood test because you had nothing better to do."
"You haven't guessed that one?" asked the Doctor. "Pretty obvious, isn't it?"
At first River thought he must mean all the sex, but then she said, "You've been sleeping."
"A bit humiliating," the Doctor said, "needing to kip, like, like a human."
River cut straight to the brutal chase. "How much time do you have?"
"A few years. Maybe. I'll keep getting weaker and weaker until regeneration kicks in. The illness tends to be most common in older Time Lord bodies. It happened to me once before."
"Did you die from it?" asked River.
"No, I fell from the Pharos Project telescope." He said this with such cool dispassion that it might have happened to someone else. River had seen photos of the Pharos Project telescope, which had been built as tall as a good-sized skyscraper. She tried to imagine falling from that height, and she shuddered. But that would be like the Doctor—he would charge out to meet death head-first, not wait meekly for it to carry him into that good night.
"This is why you're poking the beast, isn't it?" she asked. "You want to go into battle with the Silence, so you can die and get it over with quickly, rather than face months or even years of debilitating weakness."
"Not really my style." The Doctor scowled, glaring at the walls of the room. "Wasting away in bed while everyone wrings their hands around me."
"But you want me with you for the battle," River said.
"Naturally," he answered. "You're my wife. There's no-one I trust more." He added, "I'm sorry."
"I'll be there," River said. "For better or for worse, remember?"
As if quoting something, he said, "'On the Fields of Trenzalore, at the fall of the Eleventh, when no living creature can speak falsely or fail to answer, a question will be asked.' Silence will fall when that question is answered."
"What question?" asked River, bewildered. "Who told you this?"
"Dorium Maldovar, but he heard about it—through unsavory channels, I'm sure—from the Ood. It's an Ood prophecy, River. About me. My death. The Ood are never wrong about things like this. The fall of the Eleventh—that's me. This is my eleventh body."
"The Fields of Trenzalore," River said to herself. "I know I've heard about it somewhere …" She jolted. "Professor Candy's doctoral advisor worked on a dig there when she was very young—the site of a battle where thousands died—" River stopped short, a kind of horror dawning over her. "Her team excavated a site known as the Great Sepulcher—it was supposed to have been the tomb of the most feared warrior in…" She faltered, unable to continue.
"The most feared warrior?" the Doctor said dryly. "I should be flattered."
"I probably shouldn't have told you that," River said, stricken. "According to Professor Candy, the tomb was empty. Now, there's a spoiler for you."
"It hardly matters now," the Doctor said.
"Do you know what the question is?" asked River.
"'Doctor Who?'" he said.
"'Doctor Who?'" River repeated. "Seriously? It's about you?" She blinked. "Oh, God—it is about you. 'The Doctor who defeats the Silence.'"
The Doctor said, "You can see why the Silence are so keen that the question is never answered. So keen, in fact, they kidnapped you and trained you to assassinate me to keep me from ever reaching Trenzalore."
"'Silence will fall when the question is answered,'" River said. "They'll fall. The Silence. The end of them—the fall of the order."
"Exactly," he said.
"Their fall—or, more aptly, downfall—is tied up with your death, somehow." River tried without success to fight a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
"Didn't you ever wonder why they went to such lengths to have you kill me?" the Doctor asked. "They could have hired any old assassin for that. But they kidnapped the daughter of two of my best friends and tried to brainwash her into pulling the trigger. Why?"
River said, "To gain proximity to their target. You're not an easy person to peg down, Sweetie. Later, it would look as though your wife or lover had done you in—not such an unusual thing, especially for humans. A lot of people are betrayed by the ones they love most."
"And Utah," the Doctor said. "According to Dorium, a still point in time—an easier place to create a fixed point."
"An artificially created fixed point!" River felt like smacking herself in the head for not realizing this sooner. "No wonder you could wiggle out of it with the Tesalecta."
"The Silence piled up layers and layers of contrivance," the Doctor said. "Crossing timestreams so many times, until the events of your life looked like a cat's cradle. As if the Silence were trying to confuse Time itself." He looked so old and sad, River thought, weary beyond imagination. "You know, I came so close to going to that lake and letting you kill me. It seemed inevitable. And then I realized there was a way out of it, that it wasn't a naturally occurring fixed point at all. It was a fixed point created with elaborate and bizarre choreography—all to avoid having me reach Trenzalore."
"It must mean the end for them, otherwise, why would they be so desperate?" River asked, thinking out loud. "They went through a ridiculous amount of effort, if you think about it. And why Amy and Rory? Did the Silence have something against them, to want to hurt them so badly?"
"They've been my only married companions," the Doctor said. "The only ones who might conceive a child in the time vortex. And it takes a special brand of cruelty to kidnap a pregnant woman, force her to give birth in captivity, and take the baby away from her as soon as it's born. So they put Madame Kovarian on the job, a sadist through and through. She'd not only do her job, she'd enjoy every moment of it."
"But now they must realize she failed," River said. "You're not dead. I'm free. And we destroyed the Papal Mainframe. Because of her mistake."
"Doesn't look too good for her career mobility, does it?" the Doctor said. He shifted in the bed. "And all that was Plan B."
"What was Plan A?" asked River, wondering if she'd missed something.
"The Pandorica," the Doctor said. "I'd be imprisoned for eternity. The TARDIS would be destroyed on Amy and Rory's wedding day. You'd die in the explosion. The Silence just didn't count on wiping out themselves in the process. When the universe was rebooted, they came back along with everything else, and Trenzalore is still waiting for them. They had to find another way to prevent me getting there. Lake Silencio was their Plan B."
"I heard a voice," River remembered. "In the TARDIS, when I went back to Amy's house and realized the Nestenes had been there. It said, 'Silence will fall.' It wasn't Madame Kovarian speaking, though—it was a man's voice."
"Yes," the Doctor said.
"Do you know who it was?"
"Still working on that one."
River went and sat on the edge of the bed, facing the Doctor. She took one of his hands in hers. It was cold—shockingly cold.
"Will you regenerate?" she asked, "at the fall of the Eleventh? Will there be a Twelfth?"
"I don't know," the Doctor said. "I don't want to know—too much foreknowledge is a dangerous thing." He squeezed her fingers. "But whatever happens, I need someone there who can—you know."
She kissed his hand. "Whatever you need, Sweetie." Whether she buried him, or helped his newly-regenerated self stagger into the TARDIS, River would be there for him. She steeled herself to the task, although something inside her wailed at the though of losing him. But she'd known when she married him that this day might eventually come. The only way to avoid it was if she died first. In her bleakest moments, River sometimes thought that would be easier.
"I want you to have the TARDIS," he said. "If I don't make it. You're the only one who knows how to operate it."
"And after me?" River tried to conceal her distress; she didn't want to contemplate the possibility of the TARDIS without the Doctor in it. She thought suddenly of the Papal Mainframe's warning to her: the biggest secret of all; the one he's been keeping since the first time he met you; the one he will never, ever tell you. Was this it? The secret of his own death?
"Bring the TARDIS to Earth, to twenty-first century London," the Doctor said. "There's a boy called Luke Smith, the son of Sarah Jane Smith, a good friend of mine. He's brilliant. Show him how to pilot the ship. He'll learn quickly. He can have it after you. Or take him with you—it doesn't matter."
"All right," said River. "If that's what you want."
He pulled her to him, caressing her back, burying his face in her hair. River could sense his grief—he loved life, and as much as he must sometimes crave the peace of oblivion, he hated losing even a piece of it. Each regeneration was like a small death, losing part of himself that would never come back.
At last he drew away and stood. "Right," he said, all business and joie de vivre once again. "Time to get dressed. People to meet, things to do, places to go."
"Battles to plan," River added.
He touched her nose. "My beautiful wife," he said. River felt like Morgaine or Guinevere, setting Arthur's body in a boat and letting it drift into some mist-shrouded lake, a Fae realm from which there could be no return.
To be continued…