Mar. 9th, 2009

hell_in_highheels: (you're full of it)
(The Doctor wakes up to find himself handcuffed and River preparing to hook herself into the mainframe)
The Doctor: Oh no, no, no! Come on, what are you doing? That's my job!
Professor River Song: Oh, and I'm not allowed to have a career, I suppose?
The Doctor: Why am I handcuffed? Why do you even have handcuffs?
Professor River Song: (grinning) Spoilers.
The Doctor: This is not a joke. Stop this now! This is going to kill you! I'd have a chance, you don't have any!
Professor River Song: You wouldn't have a chance and neither do I! I'm timing it for the end of the countdown. There'll be a blip in the command flow. That way it should increase our chances of a clean download.
The Doctor: River, please, no!
Professor River Song: Funny thing is, this means you've always known how I was going to die. All the time we've been together, you knew I was coming here. The last time I saw you- the real you, the future you, I mean- you turned up on my doorstep with a new haircut and a suit. You took me to Verilian to see the singing towers. What a night that was. The towers sang and you cried. You wouldn't tell me why, but I suppose you knew it was time. My time. Time to come to the Library. You even gave me your screwdriver. That should have been a clue. There's nothing you can do.
The Doctor: You can let me do this!
Professor River Song: If you die here, it'll mean I've never met you!
The Doctor: Time can be rewritten.
Professor River Song: Not those times. Not one line. Don't you dare! It's OK. It's OK. It's not over for you. You'll see me again. You've got all of that to come. You and me, time and space. You watch us run.
The Doctor: River, you know my name. You whispered my name in my ear. There's only one reason I would ever tell anyone my name. There's only one time I could…
Professor River Song: Hush now. Spoilers.


Professor River Song: (voice-over) Some days are special. Some days are so, so blessed. Some days, nobody dies at all. Now and then, every once in a very long while, every day in a million days when the wind stands fair and the Doctor comes to call, everybody lives.

Professor River Song: (voice-over) When you run with the Doctor, it feels like it will never end. But, however hard you try, you can't run forever. Everybody knows that everybody dies, and nobody knows it like the Doctor. But I do think that all the skies of all the worlds might just turn dark if he ever, for one moment, accepts it.
hell_in_highheels: (talking)
What is the distance between one's old life and one's new life?  In truth, two days.  Four weeks is the distance between galaxies, she thinks.  She thinks of her life before Milliways and it seems a thing that happened to someone else. 

She is so wrapped up in the wonder of it all, it takes her a week to notice that her door is back.  She rises early and there is a delicious soreness in her muscles from their exertions.  She lays in bed and reads while he runs, shifting over onto his side of the bed, stealing the last of his warmth from the sheets. 

She asks Bar for an orchid, something with a gentle fragrance that won't assault his sensibilities.  She brings it home (home) and asks his opinion.   He starts out scenting the orchid and ends up with his nose buried in her hair, nuzzling the nape of her neck.  She laughs, begging him to let her find a place for it.  He takes it from her and sets it on the windowsill before sweeping her into his arms.  It's still there, and quite content.

She wears turtle necks all the time now. 
I wear your mark in my skin.

At night, she sleeps with her head resting on his shoulder, his arm wrapped possessively around her waist.  Drifting up through the layers of consciousness, she listens to the even sound of his breath against her ear.  Even in his sleep, his fingertips draw lazy circles on her stomach, testing the limits of her restraint.  Some nights, she breaks far too easily, and he complains not in the least.

She wants to watch the sun setting on the lake.  He tells her he'll meet her in a few minutes, and she precedes him out the back door of the bar.  She is standing on the lakeshore, her hands rubbing her upper arms against the chill when he wraps the grey shawl around her shoulders.  It isn't as warm as he is, but it does quite nicely nonetheless.

She peppers him with questions constantly, and he answers them as best he can, turning them back to her on occasion, and she also answers, as best she can.  They talk about a thousand and one things, and each question leads to another and another.  They spend days learning about one another.

She hasn't told him about @ yet.  She thinks when the time is right, she'll know.  She doesn't want to abuse his trust, but neither does she want him to think she's only with him while she's waiting for someone else.  Because that is the farthest thing from the truth.  

She is with him.  There is nothing else  in her world that she knows to be true anymore but that one simple fact.   She belongs to him.  And he belongs to her.  
Mated.

The rest will sort itself out, one way or another.

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River Song

November 2009

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