the fourteenth doctor; doctor who (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} doctorfun) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} dunwichgame,@ 2024-02-02 18:43:00 |
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| Entry tags: | !log/thread/narrative, ∙ plot: 012 monsters in the mist, ◌ inactive: river song (au), ◌ inactive: the doctor (14) |
THE 14TH DOCTOR
RIVER SONG
WHO 14 & River! •
WHAT The Doctor meets up with his wife. •
WHERE Duncwich streets •
WHEN Shortly after his arrival. •
STATUS Completed!
It was still a whirlwind to him, this face.
He’d aged, more than just his eyes.WARNINGS SFW [Spoilers for the Doctor Who Tennant/Tate specials]
The Doctor hadn't been as much of a mystery to her as they might like to think in decades, maybe even centuries, whatever face he was wearing. River found him soon enough, wandering like he'd said.
It had been more than a year since she'd seen her wife who wasn't her wife. She'd hate to hazard a guess at how long it had been since she'd seen the Doctor before that. Sometimes it felt like no time at all, and sometimes it felt like lifetimes. And of course it had to be this face. It wasn't that she blamed him, exactly, though it would be easier to do now, knowing he was older. But it was harder to avoid the memories when she was looking into the same face who'd been with her at the end.
"Hello, Sweetie. Miss me?"
It was still a whirlwind to him, this face. This world. It was a bit of a sham, wasn’t it? Getting a chance to come back only to have it ripped out from underneath him. After all, he’d never wanted to go in the first place. He wasn’t about to start wanting it now.
He remembered it–her, rather. River. The last time he’d seen her had been with feminine eyes, but the last time she’d truly imprinted upon his heart? Well, they’d gotten married, hadn’t they? The greatest tragedy of what they were in the end was that they had always moved in direct opposition to one another. All the way until the end, mostly. Time never did move seamlessly. Scrounging up those memories hadn’t been exactly on his to-do list. No, to start he had wanted to meet the human being in charge. That had been relatively accomplished. So, next was finding Donna.
Then, along came Clara Oswald and River Song. There had been so many faces he’d loved along those billions of years, but those two had been considerably more recent than the one this face had left behind in entirely another universe.
With his hands fidgeting away in his infinite pockets, the Doctor turned at the sound of that soul-rending familiar face and turned with an expression that wholly contravened his internal and subsequent anxiety.
“River Song,” greeted the Doctor. His face had aged, of course, though that was also a bit of an anomaly. He’d been learning all kinds of new things about who he was. “How could I not?” He opened his arms to encourage the first hug he’d receive on this new Earth. “Come here, you.”
Oh, hugging. Well, she didn’t mind that. This face usually spent more time trying not to trust her, to avoid getting close to her. But he was younger then, she reminded herself. And she could see it now, up close. He’d aged, more than just his eyes.
She hugged him tightly, allowed herself to relax into the embrace a moment before she pulled back and slid her arm through his.
River had changed too. She looked the same, mostly. The vortex manipulator she still wore out of habit covered the glowing (she knew they’d be glowing) characters that marked her wrist. But she carried herself differently, quieter, more settled. Less adventuress, more librarian.
“You really are older.” No one ever accused her of having too much tact. She and the Doctor always did have that in common. “So we’re on the same page now. That makes a change.”
A lack of tact was something that had somewhat bound them together, indeed. If it bothered him, the Doctor didn’t appear ruffled in the slightest. He looked chuffed to see her, rattled and chuffed all at once. Eagerly, he took her into an almost bone-crushing hug. Seeing her out of time was the hardest thing, after all. This old face had watched her die before ever knowing they had a story.
What an adventure it had been, too.
As he drew back, he rested his hands on her shoulders for a moment simply to regard her appropriately. He noted the glow, tucked that line of inquiry away for later, and settled on the concept of catching up with someone who had meant the universe to him. She called him older and he continued to radiate a sad sort of joy, the kind only he truly could for all the tragedies that had circulated his unending existence.
Regardless of the face, really.
“I am very old,” he nodded as he gradually tucked his hands into the pockets of his new blue coat. “A change though, quite right. Took us long enough, didn’t it?”
Offering her his arm as he suddenly turned to stand by her side, the Doctor nodded toward the sidewalk. “Lead the way, won’t you? Wherever tea might be, that is.”
Loathe as she was to admit it, she'd nearly forgotten what it was like to have the Doctor's attention. The way he looked at her now, it reminded her how much she'd missed that feeling.
“Too long.” All that time they'd spent meeting back to front, more or less, and finally so close on Darillium. Part of her had known he was still holding something back. And he should have known it wasn’t anything she didn’t already suspect.
She started them down the sidewalk. There was nothing especially subtle about the way she looked him over as they walked. “You really are her, aren't you. And him.”
River was never particular about which face the Doctor wore, never loved them less or considered them less her husband. But she'd also be lying to say it didn’t make a difference if he was the husband who'd only just met her or the one who'd been with her on Darillium.
She didn’t need to ask. If only she could be as sure about herself.
“Sweetie, you should know I’ve been here before. And somewhere like it before that. And before that, do I have a story for you.”
“Of course you have,” he mused. Nothing about her ever really surprised him anymore, least of all when he encountered her in his journeys long after she’d gone. Stories though, stories she was willing to share? The Doctor couldn’t help but to put a giddier bounce in his step at the mere prospect of it. She only ever tended to give him snippets, so this was a treat, indeed.
“Go on then,” the Doctor encouraged. “Let’s hear it. Do hope it ends with an explanation about the glowy bits, too. Don’t think I missed that.”
He doubted she did. Few knew him as well as she did. He could count on one hand those that had gotten to the core of him at the end of the day, but doing so only opened up a pathway to memories too tender to bear. So, he carried on beside her with a mask of enthusiasm – not that he wasn’t, of course he was, but he was a man of many faces in more ways than one – and eagerly awaited what more she had to offer.
“Ah,” she cleared her throat, part amusement and part unease. Of course he’d noticed. Her hand briefly tightened around his arm as she resisted the urge to tug self-consciously at the strap of her vortex manipulator. “It doesn’t come at the end exactly. More like the beginning.”
But that wasn’t quite true either. The mark had come somewhere in the middle, but it had been when everything in her life had changed.
“Doctor, I had a whole other life.” Admittedly, for the two of them, that wasn’t all that unusual. They both knew what it was like to change bodies and personalities, to suddenly have different likes, dislikes, and wants, a different way of viewing the world. This, though, this had been something else.
How did she even explain it? A few quiet steps later, she decided to start at the beginning. “I was born Melody Williams. Mel, if you like. Lovely parents, younger brother, still an archaeologist, but life wasn’t quite as exciting. Then I moved to Vegas.”
Pausing, she freed her hand to unstrap her manipulator, tucking it away in a pocket before she gestured for him to step off the sidewalk with her and offered up her wrist for him to inspect. This near the Doctor, the mark had a pulsing warm orange glow.
He regarded it evenly, expression grim. The very sight of one of those devices unnerved him as much as it made him a bit nostalgic for Jack. At least he had gotten to see the anomaly again fairly recently enough. Dismissing the thought, the Doctor promptly averted his gaze with an uneasy swallow as he handed the manipulator back to River. The way she spoke of living another life hit a little close to his hearts.
“Vegas,” he echoed with even more memories of that place. “Brilliant place–horribly debauched mind you, not that I’m shaming anyone, but debauched nonetheless.”
As for her “second-life” that she referenced, his mouth tightened. “Well… it’s good you had a good family, couldn’t ask for more for you. I’m sure the Ponds would agree.”
At his comments regarding Vegas, she glanced up at him, “Well, dear, you have met me.” In some ways, she and Jack were a lot alike. There was a reason they’d gotten on so well.
But ah, yes, the point. “They are, you know. My mother’s a journalist, mostly freelance. My father’s retired. Anthony’s in business. It doesn’t suit him at all, which you’d know if you met him, but he’s happy. And he supported me when I ran off to become an archaeologist, so it would hardly be fair of me to judge.”
It didn’t usually bother her, talking about her family. They were as much a part of her life as anything she’d experienced as River Song. Telling the Doctor felt different somehow, like writing off Amy and Rory, when the reality was…the Ponds were her parents too.
“I’d met a woman, married her, and then we both realized we were better together when we were apart. I’d spent some time in America, decided to take a job in Vegas after the divorce, and had a rather ordinary life for the next six or seven years. Until this mark appeared on my wrist.” No need to overcomplicate it by mentioning the rifts in the sky. “I’m still Melody. I’m also River.”
It had taken her a long time to accept it in such simple terms, but now, she didn’t see the value of working it out any further. She didn’t need to be anyone other than herself. She hoped if anyone could understand that, it was the Doctor.
Having entire chunks of his own history purged because of the Division made her words somehow more relatable. From him, River would never receive any judgment unless she used a gun. There was never any arguing with her, but he judged nonetheless. Violence, particularly since the Time War, had been a drained cup of tea that he never wanted to refill.
Even so, he knew that he hadn’t stayed true to that either. No matter how hard he tried.
“Know a thing or two about what you’re going through,” he offered in as reassuring a manner as he could. “That’s a story for another time though.”
As for that mark, his eyes were drawn back to it in the same way they deliberately tried to avoid glaring at the vortex manipulator.
“Still prefer ‘River’ though?” He asked as his gaze drifted back to hers. “Trying to be better about asking these sorts of questions. Earth’s finally caught up to that much, too. Thankfully.”
His question caught her by surprise. Not so easy to do, but of course, if anyone could, it would be the Doctor. “Some days. Other days-” She released a long, quiet breath. “Until a couple of months ago, I’d still been going by ‘Mel.’ Then I was home again. I made it back to England, saw my parents, spent a few days with my brother. They’ll always be my family, but they don’t really know me anymore.”
So when she’d found herself back in Dunwich, she’d started introducing herself as ‘River.’ It was putting Vegas behind her, in a way.
“I had someone look into the mark once.” He shouldn’t think she’d forgotten that comment about knowing what she was going through, but she was willing to table it until he’d satisfied some of his curiosity. “He said it reminded him of eldritch magic. Not a bad thing, apparently. Just old. His best theory seemed to be that our universes were connected by a rift. The mark acted as an anchor, drawing River into Melody.”
Listening to her attentively, his mind raced behind gentle eyes. Her story was nearly as tangled and complex as his own, so much so he’d nearly forgotten. It had been so long since he’d seen her, even with the last face. Everyone was truly far from him.
Managing to distract him all the same, his eyebrows lifted in curiosity. “Eldritch magic? River, you know how I feel about that word. Then again…” He rubbed the back of his head, fingers absently scratching at the nape of his neck in thought. With everything he had encountered, including the end of the universe in some fashion or another, a little bit of eldritch magic could hardly be discounted.
“Do you feel alright?” He opted to ask, regarding her evenly again. “Not torn in two or anything of the sort? ‘Cause given your composition, that should be…” Impossible? If he dared to use that word, he’d soon find something to undermine yet another belief.
And he couldn’t have that.
She'd felt as he did about magic once, maybe even more strongly after she knew what it was to be River Song. Then she'd spent some time in Vallo, met Stephen and Wanda and Prue. She still had a healthy wariness of magic, but she couldn’t entirely deny it these days.
“Physically? I feel better than ever. But I was...confused for a long time.” It was the kindest way to describe the identity crisis she'd experienced. “Being two different people isn’t easy. It wasn’t like regenerating.”
And yet, she struggled to put into words how it was different. “Fortunately, a friend helped me see things more clearly.”
She met his gaze. “What about you? You said you know what I’m going through.”
Something about her words resonated deep within him once again. It nearly gave him pause, but he carried on as best he could. She had a knack for that, didn’t she? Getting to him on a molecular level? It broke his hearts to know she had been dealing with an identity crisis. It was something he experienced with each new face, but her? It must have been wildly different.
Something Jenny might have gone through, he supposed, if she’d been given the chance to live. He lowered his head somberly, but drew in a deep breath to steady himself as she reflected the topic back to him. He was always so reluctant to talk about himself, least of all when it was deep. Personal.
Something he didn’t like to see for himself.
“Oh, well. Yes, a bit. You might say. What with this face coming back. It only just had, you see. Suppose not longer after you saw my last face, the lady. I just… Hadn’t quite worked out why I’d come back. ‘Cause it is back, but then it also isn’t the same. I’m not the same. And then there was…” Donna.
His shoulders seemed to sag. “I’d found Donna again, River. She’s fixed up, and now she’s gone again. Just like that. Can’t ever seem to…” Hold on to anything. Anyone. That much he left unspoken. “Well, doesn’t matter now, does it? Onwards and upwards, isn’t that right, River Song?”
It was almost instinctive by now to protest that he is the same. To her, always. But she knew that wasn’t what he meant, not exactly. She could almost imagine, if not quite. What might it feel like to be Mels again with all the life, lives, she’d lived now? And she’d heard what he’d left unspoken as clearly as if he’d said it aloud.
She may have changed, but clearly not so much she didn’t still know him or how much Donna meant to him, how much they all meant to him.
“Onwards and upwards,” she repeated, “but it always matters, Sweetie.”
Offering him her hand so they could continue on their way, she smiled. “Besides, I met Donna, remember? If she knows you’re out there, I have a good feeling you’ll see her again.”
It did matter, especially to him. Everyone always did, that was what made losing them so much harder. A burden he had to silently bear, and still promise to move along and make connections all over again. He had grown terribly weary. Angry and weary. That was natural with old age, he supposed, and he was so very old now.
The prospect of seeing Donna again stirred a smile. Although he only seemed to bring danger into her life, he knew his old Earth Girl wouldn’t have it any other way. He grasped River’s hand tightly and nodded reassuringly. He didn’t quite have the conviction she did, but he did seem to have a vague spark of hope. Something he’d been lacking for a long while.
“Well… I suppose anything is possible, isn’t it?” He offered, then nodded ahead. “But, first… Some tea.”
It had been more than a year since she'd seen her wife who wasn't her wife. She'd hate to hazard a guess at how long it had been since she'd seen the Doctor before that. Sometimes it felt like no time at all, and sometimes it felt like lifetimes. And of course it had to be this face. It wasn't that she blamed him, exactly, though it would be easier to do now, knowing he was older. But it was harder to avoid the memories when she was looking into the same face who'd been with her at the end.
"Hello, Sweetie. Miss me?"
It was still a whirlwind to him, this face. This world. It was a bit of a sham, wasn’t it? Getting a chance to come back only to have it ripped out from underneath him. After all, he’d never wanted to go in the first place. He wasn’t about to start wanting it now.
He remembered it–her, rather. River. The last time he’d seen her had been with feminine eyes, but the last time she’d truly imprinted upon his heart? Well, they’d gotten married, hadn’t they? The greatest tragedy of what they were in the end was that they had always moved in direct opposition to one another. All the way until the end, mostly. Time never did move seamlessly. Scrounging up those memories hadn’t been exactly on his to-do list. No, to start he had wanted to meet the human being in charge. That had been relatively accomplished. So, next was finding Donna.
Then, along came Clara Oswald and River Song. There had been so many faces he’d loved along those billions of years, but those two had been considerably more recent than the one this face had left behind in entirely another universe.
With his hands fidgeting away in his infinite pockets, the Doctor turned at the sound of that soul-rending familiar face and turned with an expression that wholly contravened his internal and subsequent anxiety.
“River Song,” greeted the Doctor. His face had aged, of course, though that was also a bit of an anomaly. He’d been learning all kinds of new things about who he was. “How could I not?” He opened his arms to encourage the first hug he’d receive on this new Earth. “Come here, you.”
Oh, hugging. Well, she didn’t mind that. This face usually spent more time trying not to trust her, to avoid getting close to her. But he was younger then, she reminded herself. And she could see it now, up close. He’d aged, more than just his eyes.
She hugged him tightly, allowed herself to relax into the embrace a moment before she pulled back and slid her arm through his.
River had changed too. She looked the same, mostly. The vortex manipulator she still wore out of habit covered the glowing (she knew they’d be glowing) characters that marked her wrist. But she carried herself differently, quieter, more settled. Less adventuress, more librarian.
“You really are older.” No one ever accused her of having too much tact. She and the Doctor always did have that in common. “So we’re on the same page now. That makes a change.”
A lack of tact was something that had somewhat bound them together, indeed. If it bothered him, the Doctor didn’t appear ruffled in the slightest. He looked chuffed to see her, rattled and chuffed all at once. Eagerly, he took her into an almost bone-crushing hug. Seeing her out of time was the hardest thing, after all. This old face had watched her die before ever knowing they had a story.
What an adventure it had been, too.
As he drew back, he rested his hands on her shoulders for a moment simply to regard her appropriately. He noted the glow, tucked that line of inquiry away for later, and settled on the concept of catching up with someone who had meant the universe to him. She called him older and he continued to radiate a sad sort of joy, the kind only he truly could for all the tragedies that had circulated his unending existence.
Regardless of the face, really.
“I am very old,” he nodded as he gradually tucked his hands into the pockets of his new blue coat. “A change though, quite right. Took us long enough, didn’t it?”
Offering her his arm as he suddenly turned to stand by her side, the Doctor nodded toward the sidewalk. “Lead the way, won’t you? Wherever tea might be, that is.”
Loathe as she was to admit it, she'd nearly forgotten what it was like to have the Doctor's attention. The way he looked at her now, it reminded her how much she'd missed that feeling.
“Too long.” All that time they'd spent meeting back to front, more or less, and finally so close on Darillium. Part of her had known he was still holding something back. And he should have known it wasn’t anything she didn’t already suspect.
She started them down the sidewalk. There was nothing especially subtle about the way she looked him over as they walked. “You really are her, aren't you. And him.”
River was never particular about which face the Doctor wore, never loved them less or considered them less her husband. But she'd also be lying to say it didn’t make a difference if he was the husband who'd only just met her or the one who'd been with her on Darillium.
She didn’t need to ask. If only she could be as sure about herself.
“Sweetie, you should know I’ve been here before. And somewhere like it before that. And before that, do I have a story for you.”
“Of course you have,” he mused. Nothing about her ever really surprised him anymore, least of all when he encountered her in his journeys long after she’d gone. Stories though, stories she was willing to share? The Doctor couldn’t help but to put a giddier bounce in his step at the mere prospect of it. She only ever tended to give him snippets, so this was a treat, indeed.
“Go on then,” the Doctor encouraged. “Let’s hear it. Do hope it ends with an explanation about the glowy bits, too. Don’t think I missed that.”
He doubted she did. Few knew him as well as she did. He could count on one hand those that had gotten to the core of him at the end of the day, but doing so only opened up a pathway to memories too tender to bear. So, he carried on beside her with a mask of enthusiasm – not that he wasn’t, of course he was, but he was a man of many faces in more ways than one – and eagerly awaited what more she had to offer.
“Ah,” she cleared her throat, part amusement and part unease. Of course he’d noticed. Her hand briefly tightened around his arm as she resisted the urge to tug self-consciously at the strap of her vortex manipulator. “It doesn’t come at the end exactly. More like the beginning.”
But that wasn’t quite true either. The mark had come somewhere in the middle, but it had been when everything in her life had changed.
“Doctor, I had a whole other life.” Admittedly, for the two of them, that wasn’t all that unusual. They both knew what it was like to change bodies and personalities, to suddenly have different likes, dislikes, and wants, a different way of viewing the world. This, though, this had been something else.
How did she even explain it? A few quiet steps later, she decided to start at the beginning. “I was born Melody Williams. Mel, if you like. Lovely parents, younger brother, still an archaeologist, but life wasn’t quite as exciting. Then I moved to Vegas.”
Pausing, she freed her hand to unstrap her manipulator, tucking it away in a pocket before she gestured for him to step off the sidewalk with her and offered up her wrist for him to inspect. This near the Doctor, the mark had a pulsing warm orange glow.
He regarded it evenly, expression grim. The very sight of one of those devices unnerved him as much as it made him a bit nostalgic for Jack. At least he had gotten to see the anomaly again fairly recently enough. Dismissing the thought, the Doctor promptly averted his gaze with an uneasy swallow as he handed the manipulator back to River. The way she spoke of living another life hit a little close to his hearts.
“Vegas,” he echoed with even more memories of that place. “Brilliant place–horribly debauched mind you, not that I’m shaming anyone, but debauched nonetheless.”
As for her “second-life” that she referenced, his mouth tightened. “Well… it’s good you had a good family, couldn’t ask for more for you. I’m sure the Ponds would agree.”
At his comments regarding Vegas, she glanced up at him, “Well, dear, you have met me.” In some ways, she and Jack were a lot alike. There was a reason they’d gotten on so well.
But ah, yes, the point. “They are, you know. My mother’s a journalist, mostly freelance. My father’s retired. Anthony’s in business. It doesn’t suit him at all, which you’d know if you met him, but he’s happy. And he supported me when I ran off to become an archaeologist, so it would hardly be fair of me to judge.”
It didn’t usually bother her, talking about her family. They were as much a part of her life as anything she’d experienced as River Song. Telling the Doctor felt different somehow, like writing off Amy and Rory, when the reality was…the Ponds were her parents too.
“I’d met a woman, married her, and then we both realized we were better together when we were apart. I’d spent some time in America, decided to take a job in Vegas after the divorce, and had a rather ordinary life for the next six or seven years. Until this mark appeared on my wrist.” No need to overcomplicate it by mentioning the rifts in the sky. “I’m still Melody. I’m also River.”
It had taken her a long time to accept it in such simple terms, but now, she didn’t see the value of working it out any further. She didn’t need to be anyone other than herself. She hoped if anyone could understand that, it was the Doctor.
Having entire chunks of his own history purged because of the Division made her words somehow more relatable. From him, River would never receive any judgment unless she used a gun. There was never any arguing with her, but he judged nonetheless. Violence, particularly since the Time War, had been a drained cup of tea that he never wanted to refill.
Even so, he knew that he hadn’t stayed true to that either. No matter how hard he tried.
“Know a thing or two about what you’re going through,” he offered in as reassuring a manner as he could. “That’s a story for another time though.”
As for that mark, his eyes were drawn back to it in the same way they deliberately tried to avoid glaring at the vortex manipulator.
“Still prefer ‘River’ though?” He asked as his gaze drifted back to hers. “Trying to be better about asking these sorts of questions. Earth’s finally caught up to that much, too. Thankfully.”
His question caught her by surprise. Not so easy to do, but of course, if anyone could, it would be the Doctor. “Some days. Other days-” She released a long, quiet breath. “Until a couple of months ago, I’d still been going by ‘Mel.’ Then I was home again. I made it back to England, saw my parents, spent a few days with my brother. They’ll always be my family, but they don’t really know me anymore.”
So when she’d found herself back in Dunwich, she’d started introducing herself as ‘River.’ It was putting Vegas behind her, in a way.
“I had someone look into the mark once.” He shouldn’t think she’d forgotten that comment about knowing what she was going through, but she was willing to table it until he’d satisfied some of his curiosity. “He said it reminded him of eldritch magic. Not a bad thing, apparently. Just old. His best theory seemed to be that our universes were connected by a rift. The mark acted as an anchor, drawing River into Melody.”
Listening to her attentively, his mind raced behind gentle eyes. Her story was nearly as tangled and complex as his own, so much so he’d nearly forgotten. It had been so long since he’d seen her, even with the last face. Everyone was truly far from him.
Managing to distract him all the same, his eyebrows lifted in curiosity. “Eldritch magic? River, you know how I feel about that word. Then again…” He rubbed the back of his head, fingers absently scratching at the nape of his neck in thought. With everything he had encountered, including the end of the universe in some fashion or another, a little bit of eldritch magic could hardly be discounted.
“Do you feel alright?” He opted to ask, regarding her evenly again. “Not torn in two or anything of the sort? ‘Cause given your composition, that should be…” Impossible? If he dared to use that word, he’d soon find something to undermine yet another belief.
And he couldn’t have that.
She'd felt as he did about magic once, maybe even more strongly after she knew what it was to be River Song. Then she'd spent some time in Vallo, met Stephen and Wanda and Prue. She still had a healthy wariness of magic, but she couldn’t entirely deny it these days.
“Physically? I feel better than ever. But I was...confused for a long time.” It was the kindest way to describe the identity crisis she'd experienced. “Being two different people isn’t easy. It wasn’t like regenerating.”
And yet, she struggled to put into words how it was different. “Fortunately, a friend helped me see things more clearly.”
She met his gaze. “What about you? You said you know what I’m going through.”
Something about her words resonated deep within him once again. It nearly gave him pause, but he carried on as best he could. She had a knack for that, didn’t she? Getting to him on a molecular level? It broke his hearts to know she had been dealing with an identity crisis. It was something he experienced with each new face, but her? It must have been wildly different.
Something Jenny might have gone through, he supposed, if she’d been given the chance to live. He lowered his head somberly, but drew in a deep breath to steady himself as she reflected the topic back to him. He was always so reluctant to talk about himself, least of all when it was deep. Personal.
Something he didn’t like to see for himself.
“Oh, well. Yes, a bit. You might say. What with this face coming back. It only just had, you see. Suppose not longer after you saw my last face, the lady. I just… Hadn’t quite worked out why I’d come back. ‘Cause it is back, but then it also isn’t the same. I’m not the same. And then there was…” Donna.
His shoulders seemed to sag. “I’d found Donna again, River. She’s fixed up, and now she’s gone again. Just like that. Can’t ever seem to…” Hold on to anything. Anyone. That much he left unspoken. “Well, doesn’t matter now, does it? Onwards and upwards, isn’t that right, River Song?”
It was almost instinctive by now to protest that he is the same. To her, always. But she knew that wasn’t what he meant, not exactly. She could almost imagine, if not quite. What might it feel like to be Mels again with all the life, lives, she’d lived now? And she’d heard what he’d left unspoken as clearly as if he’d said it aloud.
She may have changed, but clearly not so much she didn’t still know him or how much Donna meant to him, how much they all meant to him.
“Onwards and upwards,” she repeated, “but it always matters, Sweetie.”
Offering him her hand so they could continue on their way, she smiled. “Besides, I met Donna, remember? If she knows you’re out there, I have a good feeling you’ll see her again.”
It did matter, especially to him. Everyone always did, that was what made losing them so much harder. A burden he had to silently bear, and still promise to move along and make connections all over again. He had grown terribly weary. Angry and weary. That was natural with old age, he supposed, and he was so very old now.
The prospect of seeing Donna again stirred a smile. Although he only seemed to bring danger into her life, he knew his old Earth Girl wouldn’t have it any other way. He grasped River’s hand tightly and nodded reassuringly. He didn’t quite have the conviction she did, but he did seem to have a vague spark of hope. Something he’d been lacking for a long while.
“Well… I suppose anything is possible, isn’t it?” He offered, then nodded ahead. “But, first… Some tea.”