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Fic: Calling the TARDIS (or: And Marilyn Makes Three). Part 2
More fic. Am full of cold, and trying to sort out everything before I start my new job. Hence, procrastinating. Part 1 here. (Un-beta'd, all mistakes mine.)
Title: Calling the TARDIS (or: And Marilyn Makes Three)
Setting: S6, sometime post LKH.
Summary (this part): Getting Marilyn.
Characters (this part): Eleven, River, Marilyn Monroe.
Spoilers: LKH
Rating: PG-13.
Word count: 1800 words.
Feedback: Pretty please?
Genre: Fluffy, angsty crack (no really).
Part 2
“So... Marilyn Monroe. I hope you're happy with what you're wearing, because we are going now. No more wardrobe excursions.”
River was by now (having changed about 5 times already) wearing pale brown jodhpurs with a white shirt and brown boots, and looked very lovely indeed. She also looked nervous, which was utterly delightful, and with a mischievous smile the Doctor programmed the TARDIS. He knew just where to go...
(As he flipped a lever the TARDIS made a funny sort of almost-hiccough, with a strange ‘ding’ to it, like a ringing phone cut off instantly. The Doctor patted the controls, and paid it no mind.)
The second they landed he leapt down the stairs, listening out for River's reaction to what the screen would displaying. She didn't disappoint.
"Her bedroom? Oh you sly old thing..."
Grinning he threw open the doors, and then froze, at the same time that River called out: "Doctor! No!"
Marilyn was lying face down on her bed, one hand on a telephone, and a selection of pill bottles on the floor. For a few seconds he couldn't move, knowing what day this had to be and immobilised by painful memories...
(My Dear Doctor. The path has never seemed more slow, and yet I fear I am nearing its end.)
'No no no no no', his mind was screaming, as he wrestled himself out of stasis and moved to the bedside.
(My days grow shorter now, and I am so very weak.)
Not again. Not again. He couldn't do this again... Hand trembling he reached out, and with infinite relief felt that her skin was still warm, and there was the faintest pulse. On the brink, but not yet gone.
"I'm here," he whispered, brushing her hair out of her face. "I'm here. I came back for you. And you're going to be just fine."
Gently gathering her up into his arms he turned to take her into the TARDIS, but found the doorway blocked by a stony faced River.
"Doctor, no," she said - not without kindness, but with that edge of steel she was capable of whipping out at the most inopportune moments.
He took a deep breath.
"River. Move."
"No."
"River..."
"You can't do this. Doctor please, you of all people must see that!"
Closing his eyes, he resisted the urge to force his way past her, although he would, if he had to. All he could see in his mind's eye was a hearse being drawn through palace gates in the rain...
"I would advice you to move now!"
"Doctor you need to be less emotional-"
Fury rose inside him; the maddening, impossible reality of their relationship cutting him so deep he could barely breathe. 'You die', he thought, 'You sacrifice everything for me and I can't stop it or change it, and it hurts. I can’t save you. I can never save you. Not in the past, not in the future, not ever and living with that knowledge is hell sometimes. Let me have this. You have to let me have this. Why can’t you understand that?'
Marilyn's head slid down from his shoulder, and he had to shift her to get her comfortable.
When he spoke again his voice was clipped down to cold minimalism - he wasn't about to beg this time. She was River Song, she knew damn well who and what he was.
“You gave up immortality for me! Do you remember why?”
For a long moment they held each other's eyes in silence, then River let hers fall and stood aside.
Too angry and worried to do more than acknowledge her assent with more than a curt nod (‘I had to try’ hanging unspoken between them) he took Marilyn straight to the infirmary. Calibrating the detox to be human-specific was surprisingly complicated (although if he got it wrong she’d be dead even sooner, so he needed to be careful), and he only dimly noticed that the TARDIS took off again.
Finally, however, it all began working, and he could breathe a little easier, settling himself down by Marilyn's side, and tentatively taking her hand.
“You’re safe,” he whispered, and, for just a moment, everything was right with the world.
***
It was a beautiful ring.
Sitting in the swing, River carefully turned it over in her hands, the lights from the TARDIS refracting in the diamond. Idly she wondered where they had got it from - had it come from some forgotten nook in the TARDIS, or had one of Marilyn’s friends had diamond rings readily available?
The Doctor’s footsteps on the stairs were light and happy, and parts of her ached for how she would cause them to fall heavier. Yet what could she do? If he was going to steal people out of time, he had to face the consequences...
“River! What are you doing down here?”
She smiled, and held out the ring.
“I found this. I think she will probably need it now?”
Momentarily frowning he reached out and then slowly nodded. “Oh yes. That’s...”
He was obviously not quite sure how to discuss the whole bigamy issue, and River figured she might as well just get things over with. Oh she hated times like these...
“Doctor. Did you ever- did you ever tell her what you are? Ask her to come travel with you?”
He tapped the ring on his chin.
“I... did say I was a traveller, and she seemed to like the idea...”
She nodded slowly.
“Well that’s something at least. Not that she really has a choice anymore.”
For the first time he seemed to look at her properly.
“What do you mean?”
Closing her eyes she wondered how someone so clever could be so clueless.
“She was dying, Doctor. It was her time, and you changed that.”
His eyes narrowed.
“I believe we’ve had this part of the discussion already.”
“Doctor everyone dies, you can’t-”
She stopped, realising that she’d tackled the issue from the wrong angle as his face hardened. Taking a deep breath, she started over.
“What I mean is - she’s all yours now. Her story is over. You can’t take her back.”
The implications slowly sank in, and he reached up to grab hold of the cabling above him.
“Well... Time can be rewritten. Her death isn’t a fixed point, I could-”
“No you can’t.”
A beat, then he tilted his head.
“What do you mean, I ‘can’t’?”
“I mean, I... took care of it.”
She held his eyes, saw the growing apprehension.
“Took care of it?” he asked with deceptive lightness, but she didn’t flinch, instead letting her eyes drift to the ring he was still holding in his other hand.
“It’s funny, all those conspiracy theories... All that happened was you. Should have known. Well you and me. The missing glass, the phone records that were wiped... The reports were very helpful. There were even photos of the room, so I could get all the details right. The details including a Flesh avatar, dead from an overdose, which I left in her bed. Good enough to fool forensics at the time and more besides.”
The look on his face was very similar to the one his meta-crisis-half-human other had worn when he heard she was in Stormcage. A quiet sort of horror that he was obviously finding hard to articulate. Then he exploded.
“You what?”
She stood up, looked him straight in the eye.
“You have a wife, Doctor. To have and to hold till death do you part. Now would be a good time to remind yourself of Rule 7.”
He looked shellshocked, literally, and it only took seconds for her to take pity on him. She reached out, gently cradling his cheek.
“I’ll stay for a while, help her adjust. She’ll be... Well, we’ll make sure that she’s fine, OK?”
“OK, OK, yes, of course...” he said, faintly, his eyes as if of their own accord trailing from her face to the ring in his hand.
For a long moment he quite simply looked at it, as she held her breath, but then he wrapped it up in his fist decisively.
“Very well. New adventure. Can’t run forever, I suppose.”
She smiled, although there was a shade to his words that somehow made her worry and scan his face for hidden meanings - but all she could see was nervous determination.
***
Marilyn woke up in a strange place. This was not that unusual, but - although her surroundings looked vaguely medical - it reminded her mostly of some bizarre film set. Trying to get her bearings she sat up, and realised she was wearing a strange kimono that she had never seen before.
Slowly the previous night came back to her, and she wondered if someone had taken her away to some new kind of hospital or institution? Wherever she was, she felt better than she had in a long time...
When she looked out of the door, however, she only saw a long hexagonal corridor, and a gentle call didn’t produce any concerned nurses. Beginning to feel genuinely worried she stealthily tip-toed down the corridor, locating some vague noises and aiming for them. If she’d been kidnapped surely they’d have tied her up, or... something? Or maybe it was all a dream? Unless she had actually succeeded in killing herself... In which case the afterlife was not at all what she’d expected.
Her quest was quickly rewarded, as she turned a corner and was faced with a staircase leading down to... something fantastical-looking, which rather confirmed her suspicions of film sets. Taking another step forward, she saw a curly haired woman and - her heart suddenly beat faster - the Doctor! He was wearing tweed and a bow tie, and looked terribly British and comforting in the strange surroundings. She vaguely remembered trying to call him, maybe she had actually gotten through?
Looking up he caught sight of her and for just a moment froze, before his face split in a wide grin.
“Marilyn! You woke up. Come here, let me help you. I’m sure you must be a bit unsteady on your feet still.”
Bounding up the stairs he held out his hand to her.
“You saved me?” she asked, and his smile faded.
“Well, that’s the question we need to answer,” he said gently.
And nothing was ever the same.
(The Doctor would later, affectionately, refer to her as his 'Schrödinger's Wife', and she ended up adopting the surname as a handy alternative to 'Monroe' in places where her face was known. When River heard it for the first time she burst out laughing, and then declared that they really ought to make their threesome official.)
TBC.
Title: Calling the TARDIS (or: And Marilyn Makes Three)
Setting: S6, sometime post LKH.
Summary (this part): Getting Marilyn.
Characters (this part): Eleven, River, Marilyn Monroe.
Spoilers: LKH
Rating: PG-13.
Word count: 1800 words.
Feedback: Pretty please?
Genre: Fluffy, angsty crack (no really).
“So... Marilyn Monroe. I hope you're happy with what you're wearing, because we are going now. No more wardrobe excursions.”
River was by now (having changed about 5 times already) wearing pale brown jodhpurs with a white shirt and brown boots, and looked very lovely indeed. She also looked nervous, which was utterly delightful, and with a mischievous smile the Doctor programmed the TARDIS. He knew just where to go...
(As he flipped a lever the TARDIS made a funny sort of almost-hiccough, with a strange ‘ding’ to it, like a ringing phone cut off instantly. The Doctor patted the controls, and paid it no mind.)
The second they landed he leapt down the stairs, listening out for River's reaction to what the screen would displaying. She didn't disappoint.
"Her bedroom? Oh you sly old thing..."
Grinning he threw open the doors, and then froze, at the same time that River called out: "Doctor! No!"
Marilyn was lying face down on her bed, one hand on a telephone, and a selection of pill bottles on the floor. For a few seconds he couldn't move, knowing what day this had to be and immobilised by painful memories...
(My Dear Doctor. The path has never seemed more slow, and yet I fear I am nearing its end.)
'No no no no no', his mind was screaming, as he wrestled himself out of stasis and moved to the bedside.
(My days grow shorter now, and I am so very weak.)
Not again. Not again. He couldn't do this again... Hand trembling he reached out, and with infinite relief felt that her skin was still warm, and there was the faintest pulse. On the brink, but not yet gone.
"I'm here," he whispered, brushing her hair out of her face. "I'm here. I came back for you. And you're going to be just fine."
Gently gathering her up into his arms he turned to take her into the TARDIS, but found the doorway blocked by a stony faced River.
"Doctor, no," she said - not without kindness, but with that edge of steel she was capable of whipping out at the most inopportune moments.
He took a deep breath.
"River. Move."
"No."
"River..."
"You can't do this. Doctor please, you of all people must see that!"
Closing his eyes, he resisted the urge to force his way past her, although he would, if he had to. All he could see in his mind's eye was a hearse being drawn through palace gates in the rain...
"I would advice you to move now!"
"Doctor you need to be less emotional-"
Fury rose inside him; the maddening, impossible reality of their relationship cutting him so deep he could barely breathe. 'You die', he thought, 'You sacrifice everything for me and I can't stop it or change it, and it hurts. I can’t save you. I can never save you. Not in the past, not in the future, not ever and living with that knowledge is hell sometimes. Let me have this. You have to let me have this. Why can’t you understand that?'
Marilyn's head slid down from his shoulder, and he had to shift her to get her comfortable.
When he spoke again his voice was clipped down to cold minimalism - he wasn't about to beg this time. She was River Song, she knew damn well who and what he was.
“You gave up immortality for me! Do you remember why?”
For a long moment they held each other's eyes in silence, then River let hers fall and stood aside.
Too angry and worried to do more than acknowledge her assent with more than a curt nod (‘I had to try’ hanging unspoken between them) he took Marilyn straight to the infirmary. Calibrating the detox to be human-specific was surprisingly complicated (although if he got it wrong she’d be dead even sooner, so he needed to be careful), and he only dimly noticed that the TARDIS took off again.
Finally, however, it all began working, and he could breathe a little easier, settling himself down by Marilyn's side, and tentatively taking her hand.
“You’re safe,” he whispered, and, for just a moment, everything was right with the world.
It was a beautiful ring.
Sitting in the swing, River carefully turned it over in her hands, the lights from the TARDIS refracting in the diamond. Idly she wondered where they had got it from - had it come from some forgotten nook in the TARDIS, or had one of Marilyn’s friends had diamond rings readily available?
The Doctor’s footsteps on the stairs were light and happy, and parts of her ached for how she would cause them to fall heavier. Yet what could she do? If he was going to steal people out of time, he had to face the consequences...
“River! What are you doing down here?”
She smiled, and held out the ring.
“I found this. I think she will probably need it now?”
Momentarily frowning he reached out and then slowly nodded. “Oh yes. That’s...”
He was obviously not quite sure how to discuss the whole bigamy issue, and River figured she might as well just get things over with. Oh she hated times like these...
“Doctor. Did you ever- did you ever tell her what you are? Ask her to come travel with you?”
He tapped the ring on his chin.
“I... did say I was a traveller, and she seemed to like the idea...”
She nodded slowly.
“Well that’s something at least. Not that she really has a choice anymore.”
For the first time he seemed to look at her properly.
“What do you mean?”
Closing her eyes she wondered how someone so clever could be so clueless.
“She was dying, Doctor. It was her time, and you changed that.”
His eyes narrowed.
“I believe we’ve had this part of the discussion already.”
“Doctor everyone dies, you can’t-”
She stopped, realising that she’d tackled the issue from the wrong angle as his face hardened. Taking a deep breath, she started over.
“What I mean is - she’s all yours now. Her story is over. You can’t take her back.”
The implications slowly sank in, and he reached up to grab hold of the cabling above him.
“Well... Time can be rewritten. Her death isn’t a fixed point, I could-”
“No you can’t.”
A beat, then he tilted his head.
“What do you mean, I ‘can’t’?”
“I mean, I... took care of it.”
She held his eyes, saw the growing apprehension.
“Took care of it?” he asked with deceptive lightness, but she didn’t flinch, instead letting her eyes drift to the ring he was still holding in his other hand.
“It’s funny, all those conspiracy theories... All that happened was you. Should have known. Well you and me. The missing glass, the phone records that were wiped... The reports were very helpful. There were even photos of the room, so I could get all the details right. The details including a Flesh avatar, dead from an overdose, which I left in her bed. Good enough to fool forensics at the time and more besides.”
The look on his face was very similar to the one his meta-crisis-half-human other had worn when he heard she was in Stormcage. A quiet sort of horror that he was obviously finding hard to articulate. Then he exploded.
“You what?”
She stood up, looked him straight in the eye.
“You have a wife, Doctor. To have and to hold till death do you part. Now would be a good time to remind yourself of Rule 7.”
He looked shellshocked, literally, and it only took seconds for her to take pity on him. She reached out, gently cradling his cheek.
“I’ll stay for a while, help her adjust. She’ll be... Well, we’ll make sure that she’s fine, OK?”
“OK, OK, yes, of course...” he said, faintly, his eyes as if of their own accord trailing from her face to the ring in his hand.
For a long moment he quite simply looked at it, as she held her breath, but then he wrapped it up in his fist decisively.
“Very well. New adventure. Can’t run forever, I suppose.”
She smiled, although there was a shade to his words that somehow made her worry and scan his face for hidden meanings - but all she could see was nervous determination.
Marilyn woke up in a strange place. This was not that unusual, but - although her surroundings looked vaguely medical - it reminded her mostly of some bizarre film set. Trying to get her bearings she sat up, and realised she was wearing a strange kimono that she had never seen before.
Slowly the previous night came back to her, and she wondered if someone had taken her away to some new kind of hospital or institution? Wherever she was, she felt better than she had in a long time...
When she looked out of the door, however, she only saw a long hexagonal corridor, and a gentle call didn’t produce any concerned nurses. Beginning to feel genuinely worried she stealthily tip-toed down the corridor, locating some vague noises and aiming for them. If she’d been kidnapped surely they’d have tied her up, or... something? Or maybe it was all a dream? Unless she had actually succeeded in killing herself... In which case the afterlife was not at all what she’d expected.
Her quest was quickly rewarded, as she turned a corner and was faced with a staircase leading down to... something fantastical-looking, which rather confirmed her suspicions of film sets. Taking another step forward, she saw a curly haired woman and - her heart suddenly beat faster - the Doctor! He was wearing tweed and a bow tie, and looked terribly British and comforting in the strange surroundings. She vaguely remembered trying to call him, maybe she had actually gotten through?
Looking up he caught sight of her and for just a moment froze, before his face split in a wide grin.
“Marilyn! You woke up. Come here, let me help you. I’m sure you must be a bit unsteady on your feet still.”
Bounding up the stairs he held out his hand to her.
“You saved me?” she asked, and his smile faded.
“Well, that’s the question we need to answer,” he said gently.
And nothing was ever the same.
(The Doctor would later, affectionately, refer to her as his 'Schrödinger's Wife', and she ended up adopting the surname as a handy alternative to 'Monroe' in places where her face was known. When River heard it for the first time she burst out laughing, and then declared that they really ought to make their threesome official.)
TBC.