Who: River (Narrative) What: Stumbling across some old memories. When: Late, September 1. Where: The TARDIS. Status: Complete. Ratings/Warnings: Low. Blink and you’ll miss it reference to child abduction.
Much of River’s free time recently had been spent tucked away in the recesses of the TARDIS. She still didn’t sleep much, but she considered the fact she was sleeping at all a minor victory which she attributed to the quiet presence of the TARDIS in the back of her mind. Usually, the Old Girl was happy to accommodate her, rearrange rooms, move things closer if she was tired, keep the Doctor out when she wanted to be alone or let her in when she didn’t. Tonight, however, walking into what should have been her study, she found only a small storage space filled with an assortment of boxes covered in a thin layer of dust.
“What is this?” she asked the air, feeling more than hearing the answering hum. She looked up at the ceiling, suddenly feeling uneasy. “Are you trying to tell me something?”
Some instinct told her the TARDIS was as puzzled as she was by the room’s contents. That alone made her step forward and swipe her hand across the top of the first box, leaving a trail in the dust. River stared at it a moment, somewhat apprehensively, before opening it and folding back the flaps.
It was full of framed photographs, a little girl she hardly recognized anymore. She looked up at the rest of the boxes. Moving to the next one, she pulled it open to find a few ragged stuffed animals, virtually the only real toys she’d been allowed, and more for show, she thought, than anything else. All of these things, these were Melody’s. Why were they here? Why now?
Surely the Doctor hadn’t, no, he’d have had no reason to, then. He didn’t know who she was, who she would become. She’d just been a scared little girl he hadn’t been able to save. And she’d been with him, had to make sure. She’d have known. Wouldn’t she?
Back to the box of pictures, she sought out the one she remembered most clearly, the one of Amy holding her baby daughter in her arms, the child who was stolen from her. Despite the circumstances surrounding her birth, her mother looked happy. That was a memory worth holding onto, even if she couldn't bring herself to look through anything else.
"Keep these safe for me, won't you, dear?" she asked softly, holding the photograph close as she stepped back away from the boxes again. One day, she might be ready to face these memories again, but perhaps not today.