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Fic: Five Ways Jack Didn't Meet the Doctor's Wife. Part 2: Eight For You, Honey
So, about 1 1/2 years ago I posted part one of this... Like all Five Times fics these stories are connected by theme, not story, although if anyone wants to read the first story, you can find it here: It’s Called Marriage.
(I do have bunnies for the other three stories, but considering how long it took for me to find an ending for this that I was happy with... Well. Who knows.)
Also,![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
owlboy, this is for you! Very late, but at least I did finish it.
Summary: The Doctor is wounded, Jack is out of bullets, the TARDIS is out of reach, and there's an angry mob... Whoever will save them?
Setting: Post-The Angels Take Manhattan.
Characters: The Doctor, Jack, River.
Rating: PG-13?
Wordcount: 2281
Feedback: Oooh, you know you want to.
Eight For You, Honey
Somewhere deep down in Jack’s stomach a very familiar feeling was asserting itself. An immobilising feeling of dread and failure and guilt... This wasn’t how things were supposed to turn out. But then the serendipity of running into the Doctor when he’d lost his vortex manipulator had seemed too good to be true...
'Lost' wasn't quite the right word - getting drugged and waking up to the realisation that not only had he been robbed, they'd also cut off his hand, had not been a particularly brilliant start to an otherwise promising evening. He'd had to kill himself just to grow it back. So transport and a friendly face had seemed like a god-send.
Although if he was honest, then there had been moments when he’d wondered if he’d made the right choice. This Doctor was old in ways he had never seen, quiet and sombre and bowed by a loss he wouldn’t explain - his invitation to travel had been more of a ‘Well, I could give you a lift, I suppose’. He didn’t seem to mind Jack still being there weeks later, but then that wasn’t saying much, as he didn’t seem to engage with anything they came across. So Jack stayed, mostly because he knew grief when he saw it, and the least he could do was look after his old friend.
Now, however, as he peered out of the doorway of the ancient temple at the furious mob outside, the Doctor’s deceptively young face white and drawn with pain beside him, he felt he should have seen this coming. He was Jack, he was bound to screw things up. ‘Look after the Doctor’ - yeah right. Getting him killed, that was more his style...
Trying to work out what to do he hit a wall. The TARDIS was out of reach, his gun out of bullets (and probably wouldn’t do much to these heavily armed warriors) - even the Doctor’s screwdriver had been lost in the desperate scramble for sanctuary, and he could feel near-despair set in as he watched the Doctor slowly sink down to a sitting position against the wall, the red stain on his shirt spreading still further.
“Doctor,” he said slowly. “Please let me have a look...”
The Doctor (of course), shook his head, eyes still closed. “I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”
“Look, I-” Jack rubbed his face. “I could probably get past them. They’d kill me a few dozen times, but-”
“No.”
There was authority behind the words despite the quietness of the voice, and he recognised the bitterness of the tone - ‘No one else is getting hurt on my behalf’, and he swallowed in painful recognition. Still, they couldn’t stay where they were for long. The temple was empty apart from statues and altars - they needed some kind of plan.
“Sorry, but... what do we do? You’re in no fit state to go anywhere-”
The Doctor opened his eyes and looked at him with a look somewhere between exhaustion and annoyance - as if he was explaining something too obvious for words.
“We wait to be rescued. Shouldn’t be long.”
Then his eyes seemed to unfocus.
“Must make sure the message is...”
He stopped, head falling back against the wall, eyes closing once more. “And a good first aid kit. Not regeneration energy. Too depleted, mustn’t...”
His voice drifted off, and Jack’s apprehension levels increased tenfold. If the Doctor died on his watch...
Deep breath. He’d been through worse. (And wasn’t that a cheerful thought?) What had the Doctor said? Something about sending a message and being rescued - well, it was worth a shot.
Pulling out his barely-functioning communicator he hastily composed a SOS, sending it as far and wide as possible. It seemed mad, yet who knew - it might just work.
As he checked the settings, trying to make sure that the message had actually transmitted properly, the Doctor’s eyes snapped open again.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, as Jack almost jumped at the tone.
“Sending a message for help as you suggested,” he replied, feeling a little defensive at the tone of the Doctor’s voice, which wasn’t helped when the Doctor held out his hand, snatching the communicator out of Jack’s hands with the closest Jack had ever seen him to panic and then scanning the message, eyes widening.
“You sent this?” he asked, incredulous, and - as Jack nodded - waved the small metal rectangle around in great frustration.
“We were obviously going to send a message after we’d been rescued! This-” he scanned the lines again, and seemed to grow paler still, before slowly lifting his eyes and Jack wondered how he could ever have thought this Doctor young.
“There’ll be a massacre,” the Doctor said slowly, almost to himself. Handing the communicator back he carefully got to his feet, as Jack watched, confused and alarmed.
The Doctor walked over to the entrance and looked out, and Jack could hear the scream of derision that went up from the gathered crowd. Why oh why had the TARDIS chosen to land in the middle of a sacred spot, causing the locals to be incited to furious anger...
But the Doctor lifted his hand (the other still held to the wound in his side), and when a semblance of silence fell over the crowd, he spoke - voice rich and commanding, and oddly more alive than Jack had heard since they met again.
“Listen to me. Let us go. If you don’t, you will die. Please, trust me.”
The answer from the outside the temple was uncompromising. The Doctor lowered his head for a moment, and Jack could tell he was fighting to keep standing. Yet he once more looked out from the arched doorway, and - although his voice was quiet, it carried, and the words he spoke chilled Jack to the bone.
“Very well then. I tried to warn you.”
A beat, then he continued.
“Make peace with your gods.”
At this he turned, once more collapsing against the wall next to the archway, swallowing in pain as he found Jack’s face again, looking at something Jack couldn’t guess at.
“Time was, my name alone would have sent them running... Ah well, that’s all gone. For better or worse.”
Kneeling down by him, Jack tried to work out what on earth the Doctor was talking about and how to respond, when a hand was laid on his arm.
“Stay away from the door - no idea what’ll happen, but the equivalent of an army is about to descend...”
And Jack had thought he knew how to be cryptic.
“Doctor... Are you going to explain what the hell you are talking about?”
A sudden smile - as devious as it was unexpected - lit up the Doctor’s features.
“Didn’t I tell you I got married?”
Jack could feel his jaw dropping, even as there was a sudden loud crackle outside. Cautiously he peered out of the door, and faltered at what he saw.
Hanging in the air was a spaceship - not large, and quite old fashioned, with outdated photon engines, the kind that lit up the air as they took off...
The ship had turned them into a weapon, causing the very ground to be smothered in vicious, all-consuming flames. It only took seconds, but the multitudinous soldiers, so recently braying for blood, were reduced to black slick ashes.
As the flames died down, nothing to sustain them, the ship gently landed, its underside revealing an entrance hatch which opened to let a single female figure descend, and Jack found himself swallowing involuntarily.
Her curly hair surrounded her head like a golden halo, and she was dressed in a long, figure-hugging lustrous blood-red dress. Black, high heeled shoes matched the black laser gun she held in her right hand. Over her left shoulder a satchel was slung, and she made her way through the still smouldering devastation with deadly calm, as Jack slowly detached himself from the side of the door and moved forwards to greet her.
She stopped in front of him and looked him over cooly. She was older than he’d thought - 40 at least - and her eyes were grey and uncompromising.
“Captain,” she said, inclining her head, before holding out the gun. “Anything moves - shoot to kill.”
For a moment he could only stare, wondering if maybe he was dreaming, if he’d been shot himself and was hallucinating, if he’d just imagined the Doctor talking about marriage, because surely-
But then the brighter side of his brain told him to shut up and do as he was told.
“Yes Ma’am,” he saluted before taking the gun, and a ghost of a smile crossed her face as she stepped past him, obviously forgetting him the moment he was out of sight.
Despite her order, he found the tableaux inside far more compelling than the one outside, and watched (barely able to breathe) as she fell to her knees beside the Doctor, touching his face with utmost gentleness.
“Hello Sweetie,” she whispered, and the Doctor’s eyes slowly opened again.
“Knew you’d come... My Melody.”
Trying to focus on Jack, he smiled again. A soft and gentle smile, so achingly sad Jack felt like he’d been punched... except the words that followed didn’t make much sense.
“She’s a Pond, you see. Bespoke. Made just for me...”
Jack could see the woman’s nostrils briefly flaring, as if containing some strong emotion or other, before she busied herself with the first aid kit, patching up the wound and administering painkillers.
Eventually the Doctor succumbed to the combination of drugs and injury, his breathing evening out and the tenseness leaving his limbs. Jack could see the way the woman seemed to relax too, before taking a deep breath and standing up, turning to face him.
“Where is the TARDIS?”
In response he pointed out the door, towards the centre of the town.
“We accidentally landed on top of the statue of their local deity. Which is why they chased us...”
She pulled a face, half-resigned, half-exasperated.
“Well it would automatically have incurred the death penalty,” she said, eyes narrowing. “Which he would know. Oh my Love, whatever shall I do with you...”
Picking up her satchel she extracted a vortex manipulator and wrapped it round her wrist automatically, her eyes on the Doctor’s face, harbouring feelings Jack didn’t dare guess at.
“Mother told me to look after him. But I was never really the nurturing kind. And when he insists on being self-destructive...”
She sighed, then gave Jack a nod.
“See you in a moment. Don’t move.”
Before Jack could ask what she was planning she disappeared in a flash, and seconds later he heard the cranking of the TARDIS engines, before the ship materialised around himself and the Doctor.
The woman - Melody? - was already on her way down the steps from the console, and with Jack’s help she got the Doctor up the two flights of stairs to the main corridor, except she then stopped and laid a hand against the wall.
“Dearest, please move the bedroom closer? I’m sure you can tell how hurt he is.”
And before Jack’s disbelieving eyes a door appeared in the wall in front of them.
“Thank you,” she breathed, and together they managed to make the Doctor comfortable in the amply sized bedroom behind the door.
(The Doctor’s bedroom - Jack might have often wondered, but this was not how he’d wanted to find it. If it even was his, and not… theirs. The bed was certainly more than big enough for two.)
Once they’d closed the door, the Doctor asleep - or unconscious, Jack wasn’t quite sure which, except he was resting and that was good - the woman took a deep breath, then turned to Jack and held out her hand.
“Thank you Captain. Have we met yet?”
“No, I’ve not had the pleasure,” he replied, taking her hand and almost forgetting himself, before belatedly kissing it.
A shadow of a smile crossed her face.
“Same as always, I see. I’m Professor River Song, the Doctor’s wife. It was good to meet you. Please make sure he doesn’t go exerting himself. If he gets petulant, tell him I said so.”
With that she set off back down the stairs, Jack following, bewildered.
“Sorry - are you leaving?”
She stopped, and half-turned to watch him.
“I was rather in the middle of something when I received your message, in case that wasn’t obvious. And I only…” she hesitated, eyes suddenly dangerous with a hint of mischief, “borrowed the spaceship, as it was the nearest thing that could be turned into an effective weapon. I should probably return it - my criminal record is long enough as it is.”
“But-”
As he tried to find any sort of adequate reply, she turned pensive, smile cooling.
“Besides, as I told him once - one psychopath per TARDIS. Three is quite frankly unacceptable.”
Staring at her, Jack could feel his jaw drop.
“I’m not a... a psychopath!”
“Close enough as makes no difference,” River said coldly, her eyes flickering over him, somehow equally dismissive and appreciative. “See you around Captain.”
And with that she walked down the stairs and out the door. Slowly following, as if in a dream, Jack saw her return to the spaceship and take off.
Sinking down into a seat, he tried to make any sort of sense of what had just happened. When that proved impossible, he set off to find a bottle of alcohol.
~
Several days later, the Doctor suddenly turned to him and said: “So, how do you like my wife?”
Jack hesitated.
“Well, she called me psychopath…”
The Doctor smiled; eyes shimmering with something Jack daren’t guess at.
“Oh, she must have liked you then…”
~fin~
(I do have bunnies for the other three stories, but considering how long it took for me to find an ending for this that I was happy with... Well. Who knows.)
Also,
owlboy, this is for you! Very late, but at least I did finish it.Summary: The Doctor is wounded, Jack is out of bullets, the TARDIS is out of reach, and there's an angry mob... Whoever will save them?
Setting: Post-The Angels Take Manhattan.
Characters: The Doctor, Jack, River.
Rating: PG-13?
Wordcount: 2281
Feedback: Oooh, you know you want to.
Somewhere deep down in Jack’s stomach a very familiar feeling was asserting itself. An immobilising feeling of dread and failure and guilt... This wasn’t how things were supposed to turn out. But then the serendipity of running into the Doctor when he’d lost his vortex manipulator had seemed too good to be true...
'Lost' wasn't quite the right word - getting drugged and waking up to the realisation that not only had he been robbed, they'd also cut off his hand, had not been a particularly brilliant start to an otherwise promising evening. He'd had to kill himself just to grow it back. So transport and a friendly face had seemed like a god-send.
Although if he was honest, then there had been moments when he’d wondered if he’d made the right choice. This Doctor was old in ways he had never seen, quiet and sombre and bowed by a loss he wouldn’t explain - his invitation to travel had been more of a ‘Well, I could give you a lift, I suppose’. He didn’t seem to mind Jack still being there weeks later, but then that wasn’t saying much, as he didn’t seem to engage with anything they came across. So Jack stayed, mostly because he knew grief when he saw it, and the least he could do was look after his old friend.
Now, however, as he peered out of the doorway of the ancient temple at the furious mob outside, the Doctor’s deceptively young face white and drawn with pain beside him, he felt he should have seen this coming. He was Jack, he was bound to screw things up. ‘Look after the Doctor’ - yeah right. Getting him killed, that was more his style...
Trying to work out what to do he hit a wall. The TARDIS was out of reach, his gun out of bullets (and probably wouldn’t do much to these heavily armed warriors) - even the Doctor’s screwdriver had been lost in the desperate scramble for sanctuary, and he could feel near-despair set in as he watched the Doctor slowly sink down to a sitting position against the wall, the red stain on his shirt spreading still further.
“Doctor,” he said slowly. “Please let me have a look...”
The Doctor (of course), shook his head, eyes still closed. “I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”
“Look, I-” Jack rubbed his face. “I could probably get past them. They’d kill me a few dozen times, but-”
“No.”
There was authority behind the words despite the quietness of the voice, and he recognised the bitterness of the tone - ‘No one else is getting hurt on my behalf’, and he swallowed in painful recognition. Still, they couldn’t stay where they were for long. The temple was empty apart from statues and altars - they needed some kind of plan.
“Sorry, but... what do we do? You’re in no fit state to go anywhere-”
The Doctor opened his eyes and looked at him with a look somewhere between exhaustion and annoyance - as if he was explaining something too obvious for words.
“We wait to be rescued. Shouldn’t be long.”
Then his eyes seemed to unfocus.
“Must make sure the message is...”
He stopped, head falling back against the wall, eyes closing once more. “And a good first aid kit. Not regeneration energy. Too depleted, mustn’t...”
His voice drifted off, and Jack’s apprehension levels increased tenfold. If the Doctor died on his watch...
Deep breath. He’d been through worse. (And wasn’t that a cheerful thought?) What had the Doctor said? Something about sending a message and being rescued - well, it was worth a shot.
Pulling out his barely-functioning communicator he hastily composed a SOS, sending it as far and wide as possible. It seemed mad, yet who knew - it might just work.
As he checked the settings, trying to make sure that the message had actually transmitted properly, the Doctor’s eyes snapped open again.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, as Jack almost jumped at the tone.
“Sending a message for help as you suggested,” he replied, feeling a little defensive at the tone of the Doctor’s voice, which wasn’t helped when the Doctor held out his hand, snatching the communicator out of Jack’s hands with the closest Jack had ever seen him to panic and then scanning the message, eyes widening.
“You sent this?” he asked, incredulous, and - as Jack nodded - waved the small metal rectangle around in great frustration.
“We were obviously going to send a message after we’d been rescued! This-” he scanned the lines again, and seemed to grow paler still, before slowly lifting his eyes and Jack wondered how he could ever have thought this Doctor young.
“There’ll be a massacre,” the Doctor said slowly, almost to himself. Handing the communicator back he carefully got to his feet, as Jack watched, confused and alarmed.
The Doctor walked over to the entrance and looked out, and Jack could hear the scream of derision that went up from the gathered crowd. Why oh why had the TARDIS chosen to land in the middle of a sacred spot, causing the locals to be incited to furious anger...
But the Doctor lifted his hand (the other still held to the wound in his side), and when a semblance of silence fell over the crowd, he spoke - voice rich and commanding, and oddly more alive than Jack had heard since they met again.
“Listen to me. Let us go. If you don’t, you will die. Please, trust me.”
The answer from the outside the temple was uncompromising. The Doctor lowered his head for a moment, and Jack could tell he was fighting to keep standing. Yet he once more looked out from the arched doorway, and - although his voice was quiet, it carried, and the words he spoke chilled Jack to the bone.
“Very well then. I tried to warn you.”
A beat, then he continued.
“Make peace with your gods.”
At this he turned, once more collapsing against the wall next to the archway, swallowing in pain as he found Jack’s face again, looking at something Jack couldn’t guess at.
“Time was, my name alone would have sent them running... Ah well, that’s all gone. For better or worse.”
Kneeling down by him, Jack tried to work out what on earth the Doctor was talking about and how to respond, when a hand was laid on his arm.
“Stay away from the door - no idea what’ll happen, but the equivalent of an army is about to descend...”
And Jack had thought he knew how to be cryptic.
“Doctor... Are you going to explain what the hell you are talking about?”
A sudden smile - as devious as it was unexpected - lit up the Doctor’s features.
“Didn’t I tell you I got married?”
Jack could feel his jaw dropping, even as there was a sudden loud crackle outside. Cautiously he peered out of the door, and faltered at what he saw.
Hanging in the air was a spaceship - not large, and quite old fashioned, with outdated photon engines, the kind that lit up the air as they took off...
The ship had turned them into a weapon, causing the very ground to be smothered in vicious, all-consuming flames. It only took seconds, but the multitudinous soldiers, so recently braying for blood, were reduced to black slick ashes.
As the flames died down, nothing to sustain them, the ship gently landed, its underside revealing an entrance hatch which opened to let a single female figure descend, and Jack found himself swallowing involuntarily.
Her curly hair surrounded her head like a golden halo, and she was dressed in a long, figure-hugging lustrous blood-red dress. Black, high heeled shoes matched the black laser gun she held in her right hand. Over her left shoulder a satchel was slung, and she made her way through the still smouldering devastation with deadly calm, as Jack slowly detached himself from the side of the door and moved forwards to greet her.
She stopped in front of him and looked him over cooly. She was older than he’d thought - 40 at least - and her eyes were grey and uncompromising.
“Captain,” she said, inclining her head, before holding out the gun. “Anything moves - shoot to kill.”
For a moment he could only stare, wondering if maybe he was dreaming, if he’d been shot himself and was hallucinating, if he’d just imagined the Doctor talking about marriage, because surely-
But then the brighter side of his brain told him to shut up and do as he was told.
“Yes Ma’am,” he saluted before taking the gun, and a ghost of a smile crossed her face as she stepped past him, obviously forgetting him the moment he was out of sight.
Despite her order, he found the tableaux inside far more compelling than the one outside, and watched (barely able to breathe) as she fell to her knees beside the Doctor, touching his face with utmost gentleness.
“Hello Sweetie,” she whispered, and the Doctor’s eyes slowly opened again.
“Knew you’d come... My Melody.”
Trying to focus on Jack, he smiled again. A soft and gentle smile, so achingly sad Jack felt like he’d been punched... except the words that followed didn’t make much sense.
“She’s a Pond, you see. Bespoke. Made just for me...”
Jack could see the woman’s nostrils briefly flaring, as if containing some strong emotion or other, before she busied herself with the first aid kit, patching up the wound and administering painkillers.
Eventually the Doctor succumbed to the combination of drugs and injury, his breathing evening out and the tenseness leaving his limbs. Jack could see the way the woman seemed to relax too, before taking a deep breath and standing up, turning to face him.
“Where is the TARDIS?”
In response he pointed out the door, towards the centre of the town.
“We accidentally landed on top of the statue of their local deity. Which is why they chased us...”
She pulled a face, half-resigned, half-exasperated.
“Well it would automatically have incurred the death penalty,” she said, eyes narrowing. “Which he would know. Oh my Love, whatever shall I do with you...”
Picking up her satchel she extracted a vortex manipulator and wrapped it round her wrist automatically, her eyes on the Doctor’s face, harbouring feelings Jack didn’t dare guess at.
“Mother told me to look after him. But I was never really the nurturing kind. And when he insists on being self-destructive...”
She sighed, then gave Jack a nod.
“See you in a moment. Don’t move.”
Before Jack could ask what she was planning she disappeared in a flash, and seconds later he heard the cranking of the TARDIS engines, before the ship materialised around himself and the Doctor.
The woman - Melody? - was already on her way down the steps from the console, and with Jack’s help she got the Doctor up the two flights of stairs to the main corridor, except she then stopped and laid a hand against the wall.
“Dearest, please move the bedroom closer? I’m sure you can tell how hurt he is.”
And before Jack’s disbelieving eyes a door appeared in the wall in front of them.
“Thank you,” she breathed, and together they managed to make the Doctor comfortable in the amply sized bedroom behind the door.
(The Doctor’s bedroom - Jack might have often wondered, but this was not how he’d wanted to find it. If it even was his, and not… theirs. The bed was certainly more than big enough for two.)
Once they’d closed the door, the Doctor asleep - or unconscious, Jack wasn’t quite sure which, except he was resting and that was good - the woman took a deep breath, then turned to Jack and held out her hand.
“Thank you Captain. Have we met yet?”
“No, I’ve not had the pleasure,” he replied, taking her hand and almost forgetting himself, before belatedly kissing it.
A shadow of a smile crossed her face.
“Same as always, I see. I’m Professor River Song, the Doctor’s wife. It was good to meet you. Please make sure he doesn’t go exerting himself. If he gets petulant, tell him I said so.”
With that she set off back down the stairs, Jack following, bewildered.
“Sorry - are you leaving?”
She stopped, and half-turned to watch him.
“I was rather in the middle of something when I received your message, in case that wasn’t obvious. And I only…” she hesitated, eyes suddenly dangerous with a hint of mischief, “borrowed the spaceship, as it was the nearest thing that could be turned into an effective weapon. I should probably return it - my criminal record is long enough as it is.”
“But-”
As he tried to find any sort of adequate reply, she turned pensive, smile cooling.
“Besides, as I told him once - one psychopath per TARDIS. Three is quite frankly unacceptable.”
Staring at her, Jack could feel his jaw drop.
“I’m not a... a psychopath!”
“Close enough as makes no difference,” River said coldly, her eyes flickering over him, somehow equally dismissive and appreciative. “See you around Captain.”
And with that she walked down the stairs and out the door. Slowly following, as if in a dream, Jack saw her return to the spaceship and take off.
Sinking down into a seat, he tried to make any sort of sense of what had just happened. When that proved impossible, he set off to find a bottle of alcohol.
Several days later, the Doctor suddenly turned to him and said: “So, how do you like my wife?”
Jack hesitated.
“Well, she called me psychopath…”
The Doctor smiled; eyes shimmering with something Jack daren’t guess at.
“Oh, she must have liked you then…”
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The main story sort of pushed everything else out of the way, but I tried to add tiny little details.
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And glad you like it. ♥ It's been sitting around for that long it almost feels unreal.
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The perfect outsider's view of the Doctor and River's relationship. I love all the little mind-boggling bits that so completely show their relationship, their individual personalities, and also how completely strange it would seem to an outsider (even an outsider so much on the inside as Jack.)
The fact that what panics the Doctor is that Jack already sent a mayday, and his attempt to warn the locals. The fact that River just shows up in a dress, demolishes the opposition, flies the Tardis, and leaves, as if it's all normal.
The way she can just casually ask the Tardis to rearrange her interior architecture, and she does. (No one else but the Doctor does that.)
Just so much. All the little tidbits. Like "she's not a nurturer" and yet she immediately shows up to save him, and is both ruthlessly efficient, and yet tender with him when he's vulnerable.
I love the way she manages to flabbergast Jack. Leaving this normally smooth talker without words.
Awesome, awesome! The whole thing! I love this!
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♥ ♥ ♥
The perfect outsider's view of the Doctor and River's relationship.
I have a terrible weakness for outsiders' perspective...
I love all the little mind-boggling bits that so completely show their relationship, their individual personalities, and also how completely strange it would seem to an outsider (even an outsider so much on the inside as Jack.)
Yes, their world is so very specific to them that they probably don't realise how very private it is, even as it plays out on a large canvas.
The fact that what panics the Doctor is that Jack already sent a mayday,
All the timey-wimey - and Jack not getting it...
and his attempt to warn the locals.
I loved 'Make peace with your gods' and shamelessly stole it.
The fact that River just shows up in a dress, demolishes the opposition, flies the Tardis, and leaves, as if it's all normal.
Which it is! :D
Just so much. All the little tidbits.
♥
Like "she's not a nurturer" and yet she immediately shows up to save him, and is both ruthlessly efficient, and yet tender with him when he's vulnerable.
Yes, she sells herself short, bless her.
I love the way she manages to flabbergast Jack. Leaving this normally smooth talker without words.
Indeed. (Can you tell how much I enjoyed it?)
Awesome, awesome! The whole thing! I love this!
♥ ♥ ♥ And I love your reaction!
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Yay, thank you! :)
"Didn't I tell you I got married?" Ha!
Well, Jack would just have started asking questions...
It was dark but not overly so.
Yes, I really didn't know how to describe it. Added the 'dark!fic' thing after I posted, as it was pointed out to me that it wasn't exactly light. ;)
I really liked River's characterization in this.
Thank you, thank you, thank you. <3 <3 <3
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*puzzles* IDK, it makes sense to me. Admittedly in a 'the writer is a bastard who is setting this up for maximal impact, a certain amount of suspension of logic is called for' way *g*
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Well, yes. It's very much a... specific kind of story. *g*
(For example, one of the best stories I have ever read involved Ten... doing something unspeakably awful to Rose, and I would not hesitate for a moment to say that it was in character [within the parameters of the story].)
ETA: Dunno if you saw my most recent reply (literally just posted about the time you posted here)? Because it's all about Jack's message. (No one has asked what it said! Because River doesn't over-react like this normally, that part is very true.)
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It's a well established character trait.
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Interestingly, this was sort of what helped the ending? The realisation that she understands that she really shouldn't be there, and she's not helping.
Originally - and what kept tripping it up - she was going to berate the Doctor for travelling with Jack. And then suddenly it twigged that she was the problem here - which she takes on board when Jack explains what *actually* happened - and warns him as she leaves.
(I hope that makes sense? She'd absolutely be the Doctor's enabler, so she stays away.)
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And I maintain my stance, in the face of all fannish opinion, that River and Jack together really wouldn't be that great . . .
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I think they'd be good in small doses, but they're too much like the Doctor - and each other - to work longterm, if that makes sense? It would depend on the situation and which Doctor they were with.
Here, River knows that the two of them would be too much of a good thing, as it were. If there was some bright-eyed companions to deflect all the issues, they'd probably be fine. But with the Doctor all hurting etc, it's not the right time.
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I miss the good old days <3
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You do? I don't think I've shared it with anyone... Unless I sent it to you for ideas re. how to end it? Or do you mean the first one?
I miss the good old days <3
Oh me too... *nostalgic sigh for 2011*
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Oh me too... *nostalgic sigh for 2011*
I haven't been reading/watching the odd Pond-era things that trickle through much because I'm kinda out of that headspace? But on the other hand . . . *sigh*
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Yes, I remember banging my head on a desk for... along time. Can't remember whom I sent it to though...
I'm glad you found a good ending!
All it took, was just to let River disappear as soon as possible, rather than hang around.
I haven't been reading/watching the odd Pond-era things that trickle through much because I'm kinda out of that headspace? But on the other hand . . . *sigh*
Well, I'm currently watching Community, so there is literally not time for anything else. (Also Pond stuff just makes me sad & nostalgic.)
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– “A vortex manipulator, fresh off the wrist of a handsome Time Agent.” (He opens the box and sighs.) “I said off the wrist.”
... thank you, I had always wondered how that worked.
but then that wasn’t saying much, as he didn’t seem to engage with anything they came across.
– “There's a man on Praed Street with an invisible wife. Maybe he just doesn't have a wife.” (before the transcript, I always heard this as ‘Pride Street’...)
But then the brighter side of his brain told him to shut up and do as he was told.
“Yes Ma’am,” he saluted before taking the gun, and a ghost of a smile crossed her face as she stepped past him, obviously forgetting him the moment he was out of sight.
– Both brilliant and sad...
Jack could see the woman’s nostrils briefly flaring, as if containing some strong emotion or other
– I’ll bet they did. Oh, go on. DVD extra please? I tried to count the levels of possible meta here and ran out of fingers... (I’m also not seeing the comment about what Jack actually sent, though I thought I read them all, including the one where you say you answered that in another comment...)
“Dearest, please move the bedroom closer? I’m sure you can tell how hurt he is.”
– Loved this, very much.
The Doctor’s bedroom - Jack might have often wondered, but this was not how he’d wanted to find it.
– No. The boy has quite nice instincts.
Please make sure he doesn’t go exerting himself. If he gets petulant, tell him I said so.
– And when the Doctor did get petulant, and Jack told him what she said, he got so petulant that he went and sulked on a cloud for hundreds of years. Blimey, as Clara would say....
River said coldly, her eyes flickering over him, somehow equally dismissive and appreciative
– And it’s not that I didn’t love River before, but this feels particularly in character...
Sinking down into a seat, he tried to make any sort of sense of what had just happened. When that proved impossible, he set off to find a bottle of alcohol.
– Neither the first nor the last, poor lad.
The Doctor smiled; eyes shimmering with something Jack daren’t guess at.
– O Doctor my Doctor...
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Really? I always presumed this was Jack... (Which is both cruel, yet no other Time Agent would be able to regrow their hand, so.)
– Both brilliant and sad...
That's very well encapsulated.
– I’ll bet they did. Oh, go on. DVD extra please? I tried to count the levels of possible meta here and ran out of fingers...
Which bit particularly? If it's her reaction here, it's the fact that he talks about not just who, but what she is. How she was created to be a weapon, and she has just murdered a whole legion of soldiers without a moment's hesitation... And he's not really aware of what he's saying anymore, or how she'll take it, and she knows this and it hurts, because all he's thinking of is 'She is perfect for me'. And 'perfect for me' includes being an effective killing machine. And (since this is post-Angels Take Manhattan for both of them) there's the loss of her parents to factor in also, etc etc. Basically it's painful on oh so very many levels...
(I’m also not seeing the comment about what Jack actually sent, though I thought I read them all, including the one where you say you answered that in another comment...)
Well I semi-answered it on Tumblr, but no one HERE has asked. However I shall take your comment as a request, so here goes. This is what Jack sent:
– Loved this, very much.
She's the only one who talks to the TARDIS like the Doctor does... ♥
– No. The boy has quite nice instincts.
'Boy' amuses me. He's probably around the Doctor's age. (Depends how you count.) But yes. He is a gentleman.
– And when the Doctor did get petulant, and Jack told him what she said, he got so petulant that he went and sulked on a cloud for hundreds of years. Blimey, as Clara would say....
Now this goes with – “There's a man on Praed Street with an invisible wife. Maybe he just doesn't have a wife.” He doesn't sulk, he grieves as he obviously goes to live on his cloud after he has lost River also... Excellent meta on 9 -> 12 here, although this image sums it up perfectly:
– And it’s not that I didn’t love River before, but this feels particularly in character...
I must admit, I was very pleased with that moment!
– Neither the first nor the last, poor lad.
Nope, that's for sure...
– O Doctor my Doctor...
See icon.
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I just spotted two little things: "The answer from the outside the temple was uncompromising.", and I wasn't quite sure about "She stopped in front of him and looked him over cooly." since the spelling of "cooly" seems to be a subject of debate…
♥
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Indeed. (I rather love her as Avenging Angel...)
The beginning was pretty grim indeed—Jack's initial situation, the shadow of the Doctor's grief, then the current disaster, it all gave a strong undercurrent of helplessness. He's rather the proactive kind, but here he was stuck reacting and trying to do his best all along, not feeling like it helped much. Poor Jack :P
Yes, I'm not very nice to him... Hopefully it was all believable enough - this awful succession of mishaps, and the Doctor in a bad place to begin with.
The Doctor's pain and weariness, the ancient side of him were very well conveyed.
I love ancient-Eleven, the juxtaposition of old and young.
I really liked his lines, his imperious refusal of Jack getting hurt on his behalf, and how wild he got over the message. The moment in which he pleaded for the crowd to listen was very intense, quite dark by the end.
If you look above [my reply to enevarim] you can see what the message said - and why it had the effect it had.
And then River stepped in… My, from Jack's outsider POV she really was bewildering and impressive. Positively deadly, yet showing such deep gentleness to the Doctor.
It's all sharp contrasts, which I think might be the heart of the fic.
(Love the moving-the-bedroom moment too.)
<3
Yet she wasn't good at dealing with self-destructiveness, although she could certainly know it when she saw it—Jack's utter astonishment at seeing her go was quite good, too.
She is self-aware enough to know that she is not what he needs. Something which she has of course told him already...
Her reactions to him were nice—with the psychopath line ;)
Yeah, I just couldn't help myself.
Good ending as well!
Thank you!
Also thanks for your catch(es). (I hate 'coolly'. No two spellcheckers agree.)
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Me too :D
Yes, I'm not very nice to him... Hopefully it was all believable enough - this awful succession of mishaps, and the Doctor in a bad place to begin with.
It felt perfectly right!
I love ancient-Eleven, the juxtaposition of old and young.
He is fascinating. ♥
If you look above [my reply to enevarim] you can see what the message said - and why it had the effect it had.
You bet! Especially with the phrasing ringing a lot of bells regarding their history.
It's all sharp contrasts, which I think might be the heart of the fic.
Indeed :)
She is self-aware enough to know that she is not what he needs. Something which she has of course told him already...
River is all the great things. And indeed it's a perfect callback to the "One psychopath per TARDIS" line, it's delivered as a joke but really means something deep.
Also thanks for your catch(es). (I hate 'coolly'. No two spellcheckers agree.)
Yeah, I got really confused trying to research it XD
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Good! :)
You bet! Especially with the phrasing ringing a lot of bells regarding their history.
I left it ambiguous in the story itself, figuring that Eleven's reaction would tip people off that the message was something a little out of the ordinary.
River is all the great things. And indeed it's a perfect callback to the "One psychopath per TARDIS" line, it's delivered as a joke but really means something deep.
Yes, I just couldn't help myself. One reason it took so long to finish was because I wanted that line in there, but couldn't make it fit.
Yeah, I got really confused trying to research it XD
I've just given up! ;)
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Yeah, that felt quite right. ^_^
Yes, I just couldn't help myself. One reason it took so long to finish was because I wanted that line in there, but couldn't make it fit.
Well, you pulled it off in the end :)
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Thank you. :)
re: eight for you, honey
Re: eight for you, honey
Thank you! It's one of those I've had in a folder for years, never knowing how to end it, but loving the central imagery and basic concept so much that I kept coming back to it.
You handle narrative flow and emotional descriptions rather well, telling us just enough that we should know, and let us figure out the rest through allusions and words that set the scene very, very well. :)
*beams* That's exactly what I was going for, yes. Very pleased that it worked! So much is unsaid, but adding lots of explanations bogged it down, so I cut it back to basics.
I like Jack as the PoV narrator. Good writing!
Jack makes a wonderful PoV character, knowing much, but not quite enough to follow. And thank you again! <3 <3 <3