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Doctor Who fic: To Have and to Hold
So, a while ago I went through old folders and drafts and found... this. Which I barely remember writing, and have no idea why I never posted (at least I don't think I did??) - it was all coded up and everything. I must have gotten sidetracked.
Anyway, here it is. Rather lovely, even if I say so myself. Very very shippy, very River-focussed (the beginning is basically her meditating on everything that happened during TWORS), but I also have ideas on how Time Lords make love...
(This is a very me fic, so half-poetry, half-meta.)
Summary: with my body I thee worship. (The Doctor and River’s wedding night.)
Setting: Post-The Wedding of River Song
Pairings: (Eleventh)Doctor/River
Rating: Somewhere between Teen and Mature?
Genre: Romance, introspection
Word count: 2600
To Have And To Hold, From This Day Forward
with my body I thee worship
Her whole life she’d been focused on the Doctor.
Wait for the Doctor. Kill the Doctor. And lastly, lately, learn about the Doctor.
She had found him in words like he must have known she would. Had sought him out in stories and reports and ancient texts and myths and legends. Collecting and working and trying to make everything fit together, discover her own role, discover who he was from a hundred thousand fragments.
She had been looking for a good man. What she had found had caused her to fall head-over-heels in love.
But it had always been about action, about what she could do.
And now...
The water surrounded her, still and beautiful and calm as the suit walked on its own, and she found that the rapids that had guided her life until now, dragging her along, had stilled and become like this lake.
She was his wife.
The knowledge sat inside her, solid and real and heavy, and she could feel the way everything settled around it. A still centre. This was who she was.
(He was safe.)
Almost without thinking she began organising her mind, filing the different memories away in separate locations. She had killed him, that was all they needed to know. But they needed to believe her. One last task, in order to lay her old life to rest.
Meticulously she wove her recollections together. The Doctor shot, the Doctor dying. Her knowledge of what she’d done. A tapestry of truths to construct the perfect lie.
(Oh she was good.)
Everything else, the ways she’d saved him... That was hers, and hers alone. Carefully she concealed it, down where the Silence would never find it, down below mirrors and smoke screens, down by her new, solid, foundation. The truths that would always be hers.
The suit rose from the lake, and there, waiting, were Kovarian and Silents, so very apologetic...
“You didn’t think you’d be able to just walk away, now did you? You killed a man...”
(She smiled silently, and said nothing.)
And then there were officials from the Shadow Proclamation and Judoon and a trial and and when they asked her anything, she just said ‘yes’.
She had spent her whole life lying, lying about who she was, and what she was, and this was no different. It was all a farce, anyway, the Silence had clearly bought the entire jury.
Eventually she was sent to Storm Cage. The highest security prison possible. As lightening lit up grey concrete, alarms and guards, she studied her future home and listened gravely as the Warden explained the impossibility of escape, doing her best to keep a straight face.
She had stopped time. Had held the fate of all the worlds in her hands, and the universe itself had been reborn from her kiss. The idea that walls and bars could ever keep her was almost sweet.
But she would be good. She would stay. Because he was alive.
And then - finally, finally - peace. Her cell was small and bare, but she’d had worse. Settling on her bed, she leaned against the wall, arms wrapped around her legs. She had time now, all the time she could ever want, and it felt like a gift. Time to pick up all the pieces of herself, and try to realign them, now she had a solid foundation to build on...
But as she closed her eyes, memories flooded her mind and her heart contracted.
The look on his face. His angry words.
He had not believed himself to be worthy of love.
How readily he had given his own love, his own forgiveness. How readily he gave himself, always, everywhere - his name, the word for healer, and wise man, rippling out throughout the universe, touching a million million lives...
The stories she had found - from everywhere, from everywhen - the legends and myths and fairy tales which spoke of bravery and honour and selflessness... Of a man who toppled empires and threw down gods, a mighty warrior and champion of the downtrodden. But she knew that he was just a man - impossibly vulnerable and so very fragile - and yet he stood firm in the face of injustice, armed with nothing more than confidence and a small screwdriver.
Even in death, his only thoughts had been for others...
And he had not believed himself to be worthy of love.
Oh she could spend a thousand years in prison, would have destroyed the universe twice over, to make him see the truth.
He was loved. Always, and completely.
And by none more than her.
His wife...
A gust of wind blew her hair behind her, causing her to look up. And then a door opened into golden light, and he stepped out.
Alive. So alive.
She stood up, walked the few steps up to him and slowly reached out her hand, touching his chest.
The world didn’t disintegrate at her touch (she wasn’t killing him), he was just there - solid, real, safe.
“You’re here.” A statement, an acknowledgement that it was all true.
Her love was safe.
“Where else would I be?” he asked, and then gently wrapped his arms around her as she began shaking.
“Sh, don’t worry, it’s OK, I’m fine... Look, it’s really me!”
He chuckled a little, and she lifted her face, studying his eyes carefully. No more Teselecta, just him. He smiled, leaned forward and whispered in her ear.
“And it occurred to me, dearest wife, that never was any dancing at our wedding...”
His voice had gone husky, and his eyes dark, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. She had been so focussed on saving him, refusing to give in, refusing to be his killer, that the implications of her victory had not sunk in.
She was his wife, and he... her husband.
Hers.
To have and to hold...
Whole worlds realigned themselves in her mind as she reached up and cupped his face.
“My Doctor,” she said slowly. The last Time Lord, the final son of Gallifrey, the legend, the myth, the man whose name was a benediction in a thousand tongues... and he was hers.
She suddenly felt like laughing with the pure joy of the moment. Wanted to hold him and never let him go. Wanted to inspect him, go over every inch of him so she could posses all of him. Wanted to fold herself around him, body and soul and mind...
“Should I really escape on my first night?” she asked instead, archly, and he raised his eyebrows and looked the very picture of innocence.
“Who said anything about escaping?”
Stepping back, he snapped his fingers and the TARDIS doors opened.
She gasped in delight, and he held out his arm.
“I fixed the cameras, no one will notice a thing. Shall we?”
She’d not spent much time to consider him as a man, but now, as she took his arm, feeling reassuringly firm flesh and bone beneath, she couldn’t help but admire the lines beneath the fabric, the curve of his neck, the familiar youthful face, the soft mouth...
Her husband.
Her own mouth had gone dry, her heart fluttering inside her.
Sex was... well first it had been a weapon (all those Leadworth boys left trailing in her wake, half-terrified and probably haunted forever more - she really ought to feel bad, but couldn’t) and then... Well 51st Century university. Physical pleasure as something free and easy, across species and genders, and she’d relished the simplicity. (Had she been there, in the beautiful, wood-pannelled study mere days ago? Felt like lifetimes.)
But this... This would be making love. To the man she loved. To the man she had married.
It was brand new and exciting and quite deliciously nerve-wrecking, anticipation suddenly building.
She studied his profile, wondered what his thoughts were, and bit her lip as they walked up the steps to the central console.
“Well dear,” he said, patting the controls, “here we are. I suppose the best words would be ‘thank you’. Although...”
He cleared his throat and shot River a swift look.
“Would you mind... making us a room?”
It took a couple of seconds for the meaning to hit River, and then she leaned forward and quickly added:
“No bunk beds!”
The Doctor opened his mouth, and then closed it again. She smiled.
“Well then, ready to consummate this marriage and make me a woman?”
He stared at her with befuddlement written all over his face, shock falling from his lips as he tried to rally.
“You’ve never- I mean- you-”
It was possibly the most endearing thing she had ever seen. How someone so old could be so utterly flustered was beyond her, all she knew was that she suddenly loved him in about 11 new ways. Laying her hand on top of his, she gently answered.
“Not with you my Love. Not with a Time Lord.”
His response was a slow, lascivious smile, full of secrets and lust.
“Very true. Let’s see what you make of it...”
“You think you can show me something new?” she said, aiming for levity despite being entirely too weak at the knees for joking.
“Trust me, it will blow your mind...” he murmured, leaning into her, so confident and self-assured and... focussed that she had to physically take a step back.
“Kiss me now, Sweetie, and we’ll never make it to the room.”
He swallowed.
“Fair enough.”
The room didn’t take long to find. What they hadn’t counted on was for it to leave them completely speechless.
For a long moment they just stood in the doorway, staring. The walls were the familiar golden copper, and the floor was softly carpeted, but it was the bed that stunned them into silence.
It was large, circular, and sunken down into the floor, with an overabundance of silky blue bedding, gently gleaming at them in the soft light.
And then everything clicked into place.
“It’s a pond!” she said, delighted, and began laughing, the pent-up emotions of recent events finally spilling out as she shook with laughter, clinging onto the Doctor to stop falling over.
“A pond...” he said slowly, frowning, and she tried her best to control her breathing.
“A pond, for Mr and Mrs Pond,” she stated, as firmly as she could between giggles, and his mouth fell open.
“And that is how it works!” she said, as she grabbed hold of him and dragged him across the floor.
“You’re a Pond now, from this day forward. Better get used to it!”
And there is was - that look which had taken her breath away when standing in top of their pyramid.
“Melody Pond. It’s my honour.”
The kiss that followed - and the night that ensued - didn’t actually create or destroy any worlds. Although it felt like it.
A new, breathless joy welled up in her - she would show him, with everything she had, that he was loved. Show him, so he would never forget. The TARDIS was whispering to her, golden eternity dancing at the back of her mind, and as she pulled back to push his jacket and braces off his shoulders, she murmured ‘My Doctor’ with a possessiveness she couldn’t begin to explain, only she knew that this was who she was meant to be.
Then there was passion, and nakedness, and the thrill of touch and taste - exploration and the careful stoking of embers until she felt ready to burst into flame.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, voice low and husky, and she felt like screaming that if he didn’t do something now she was going to punch him.
“Yes,” she managed, feeling the weight of his body and the anticipation, her every nerve-ending quivering, felt like it would never end.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered, and she did as she was told and then- He entered her.
Her eyes flew open in shock as her world expanded, every touch, every sensation magnified, duplicated, mirrored... She could feel him inside her, yet also feel her around him, and as her eyes settled on his face, she could see herself.
“Close your eyes,” he said again, softly, “it takes time to get used to. Focus on just the physical to begin with and let me lead...”
She nodded, closing her eyes once more, and giving herself over to pure pleasure. If there was a word for it, it was not one she knew. Sometimes she had wondered what it would like to be male, what their experience of love making felt like... She was beginning to get an idea, yet this was so much more, the passion duplicated and reflected back, his and hers, entwined and in perfect harmony, rising and building, every movement sparking further joy, like a perpetually expanding fractal. She literally couldn’t tell where he ended and she began, their shared delight far beyond anything she could ever have imagined.
~
Afterwards, it took a long while before either of them spoke. Eventually, he kissed her curls, then asked:
“Mind blown?”
“Everything blown,” she replied. “I’m not even sure I’m me any longer...”
Concern surfaced, and he found her eyes.
“You sure you’re OK?”
“Oooooh yes. And it’s really put a different spin on ‘multiple orgasms’.”
He chuckled, reassured, and lazily pulled her a little closer.
“Yes rather... I’m sure you see why the whole issue of gender is... somewhat a moot point. And why Time Lords didn’t, as a rule, mingle with lesser species...”
“What do you mean?”
There might have been an edge to her words, and he hesitated.
“Well. It could kill them.”
“Kill them?”
“It’s a true meeting and melding of minds. An ordinary human would not be able to contain the mind of a Time Lord. They would... burn up.”
There was a sudden seriousness in his eyes, and she wondered what had happened, because there was something personal in the unexpected sadness. Although right now she didn’t want him dwelling on the past - this moment was hers - so she gently stroked his back.
“Hush my Love, and thank the stars for my Time Head.”
“Oh believe me, I am. I never-”
He looked at her, all awe and wonder and pure, unadulterated joy.
“I never thought I could have this - real intimacy - again. I thought I’d destroyed it all. My River-”
She cut him off with a kiss.
~
All around, the TARDIS hummed with quiet triumph; her thief and her child safe and happy, protected (in this moment, in her forever) from the storms of their lives.
She was his, body and soul, bespoke; they were two halves of a whole, and many years later (when she was so much older, and he so much younger), on Demons Run, a leaf would tell him who and what she was, and she would see that very same look light up his face (for the first time).
Anyway, here it is. Rather lovely, even if I say so myself. Very very shippy, very River-focussed (the beginning is basically her meditating on everything that happened during TWORS), but I also have ideas on how Time Lords make love...
(This is a very me fic, so half-poetry, half-meta.)
Summary: with my body I thee worship. (The Doctor and River’s wedding night.)
Setting: Post-The Wedding of River Song
Pairings: (Eleventh)Doctor/River
Rating: Somewhere between Teen and Mature?
Genre: Romance, introspection
Word count: 2600
with my body I thee worship
Her whole life she’d been focused on the Doctor.
Wait for the Doctor. Kill the Doctor. And lastly, lately, learn about the Doctor.
She had found him in words like he must have known she would. Had sought him out in stories and reports and ancient texts and myths and legends. Collecting and working and trying to make everything fit together, discover her own role, discover who he was from a hundred thousand fragments.
She had been looking for a good man. What she had found had caused her to fall head-over-heels in love.
But it had always been about action, about what she could do.
And now...
The water surrounded her, still and beautiful and calm as the suit walked on its own, and she found that the rapids that had guided her life until now, dragging her along, had stilled and become like this lake.
She was his wife.
The knowledge sat inside her, solid and real and heavy, and she could feel the way everything settled around it. A still centre. This was who she was.
(He was safe.)
Almost without thinking she began organising her mind, filing the different memories away in separate locations. She had killed him, that was all they needed to know. But they needed to believe her. One last task, in order to lay her old life to rest.
Meticulously she wove her recollections together. The Doctor shot, the Doctor dying. Her knowledge of what she’d done. A tapestry of truths to construct the perfect lie.
(Oh she was good.)
Everything else, the ways she’d saved him... That was hers, and hers alone. Carefully she concealed it, down where the Silence would never find it, down below mirrors and smoke screens, down by her new, solid, foundation. The truths that would always be hers.
The suit rose from the lake, and there, waiting, were Kovarian and Silents, so very apologetic...
“You didn’t think you’d be able to just walk away, now did you? You killed a man...”
(She smiled silently, and said nothing.)
And then there were officials from the Shadow Proclamation and Judoon and a trial and and when they asked her anything, she just said ‘yes’.
She had spent her whole life lying, lying about who she was, and what she was, and this was no different. It was all a farce, anyway, the Silence had clearly bought the entire jury.
Eventually she was sent to Storm Cage. The highest security prison possible. As lightening lit up grey concrete, alarms and guards, she studied her future home and listened gravely as the Warden explained the impossibility of escape, doing her best to keep a straight face.
She had stopped time. Had held the fate of all the worlds in her hands, and the universe itself had been reborn from her kiss. The idea that walls and bars could ever keep her was almost sweet.
But she would be good. She would stay. Because he was alive.
And then - finally, finally - peace. Her cell was small and bare, but she’d had worse. Settling on her bed, she leaned against the wall, arms wrapped around her legs. She had time now, all the time she could ever want, and it felt like a gift. Time to pick up all the pieces of herself, and try to realign them, now she had a solid foundation to build on...
But as she closed her eyes, memories flooded her mind and her heart contracted.
The look on his face. His angry words.
He had not believed himself to be worthy of love.
(‘Find River Song, and tell her something from me...’)
(‘And you are forgiven. Always and completely forgiven.’)
(‘And you are forgiven. Always and completely forgiven.’)
How readily he had given his own love, his own forgiveness. How readily he gave himself, always, everywhere - his name, the word for healer, and wise man, rippling out throughout the universe, touching a million million lives...
The stories she had found - from everywhere, from everywhen - the legends and myths and fairy tales which spoke of bravery and honour and selflessness... Of a man who toppled empires and threw down gods, a mighty warrior and champion of the downtrodden. But she knew that he was just a man - impossibly vulnerable and so very fragile - and yet he stood firm in the face of injustice, armed with nothing more than confidence and a small screwdriver.
(How could she not have fallen in love?)
Even in death, his only thoughts had been for others...
And he had not believed himself to be worthy of love.
Oh she could spend a thousand years in prison, would have destroyed the universe twice over, to make him see the truth.
He was loved. Always, and completely.
And by none more than her.
His wife...
A gust of wind blew her hair behind her, causing her to look up. And then a door opened into golden light, and he stepped out.
Alive. So alive.
She stood up, walked the few steps up to him and slowly reached out her hand, touching his chest.
The world didn’t disintegrate at her touch (she wasn’t killing him), he was just there - solid, real, safe.
“You’re here.” A statement, an acknowledgement that it was all true.
Her love was safe.
“Where else would I be?” he asked, and then gently wrapped his arms around her as she began shaking.
“Sh, don’t worry, it’s OK, I’m fine... Look, it’s really me!”
He chuckled a little, and she lifted her face, studying his eyes carefully. No more Teselecta, just him. He smiled, leaned forward and whispered in her ear.
“And it occurred to me, dearest wife, that never was any dancing at our wedding...”
His voice had gone husky, and his eyes dark, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. She had been so focussed on saving him, refusing to give in, refusing to be his killer, that the implications of her victory had not sunk in.
She was his wife, and he... her husband.
Hers.
To have and to hold...
Whole worlds realigned themselves in her mind as she reached up and cupped his face.
“My Doctor,” she said slowly. The last Time Lord, the final son of Gallifrey, the legend, the myth, the man whose name was a benediction in a thousand tongues... and he was hers.
She suddenly felt like laughing with the pure joy of the moment. Wanted to hold him and never let him go. Wanted to inspect him, go over every inch of him so she could posses all of him. Wanted to fold herself around him, body and soul and mind...
“Should I really escape on my first night?” she asked instead, archly, and he raised his eyebrows and looked the very picture of innocence.
“Who said anything about escaping?”
Stepping back, he snapped his fingers and the TARDIS doors opened.
She gasped in delight, and he held out his arm.
“I fixed the cameras, no one will notice a thing. Shall we?”
She’d not spent much time to consider him as a man, but now, as she took his arm, feeling reassuringly firm flesh and bone beneath, she couldn’t help but admire the lines beneath the fabric, the curve of his neck, the familiar youthful face, the soft mouth...
Her husband.
Her own mouth had gone dry, her heart fluttering inside her.
Sex was... well first it had been a weapon (all those Leadworth boys left trailing in her wake, half-terrified and probably haunted forever more - she really ought to feel bad, but couldn’t) and then... Well 51st Century university. Physical pleasure as something free and easy, across species and genders, and she’d relished the simplicity. (Had she been there, in the beautiful, wood-pannelled study mere days ago? Felt like lifetimes.)
But this... This would be making love. To the man she loved. To the man she had married.
It was brand new and exciting and quite deliciously nerve-wrecking, anticipation suddenly building.
She studied his profile, wondered what his thoughts were, and bit her lip as they walked up the steps to the central console.
“Well dear,” he said, patting the controls, “here we are. I suppose the best words would be ‘thank you’. Although...”
He cleared his throat and shot River a swift look.
“Would you mind... making us a room?”
It took a couple of seconds for the meaning to hit River, and then she leaned forward and quickly added:
“No bunk beds!”
The Doctor opened his mouth, and then closed it again. She smiled.
“Well then, ready to consummate this marriage and make me a woman?”
He stared at her with befuddlement written all over his face, shock falling from his lips as he tried to rally.
“You’ve never- I mean- you-”
It was possibly the most endearing thing she had ever seen. How someone so old could be so utterly flustered was beyond her, all she knew was that she suddenly loved him in about 11 new ways. Laying her hand on top of his, she gently answered.
“Not with you my Love. Not with a Time Lord.”
His response was a slow, lascivious smile, full of secrets and lust.
“Very true. Let’s see what you make of it...”
“You think you can show me something new?” she said, aiming for levity despite being entirely too weak at the knees for joking.
“Trust me, it will blow your mind...” he murmured, leaning into her, so confident and self-assured and... focussed that she had to physically take a step back.
“Kiss me now, Sweetie, and we’ll never make it to the room.”
He swallowed.
“Fair enough.”
The room didn’t take long to find. What they hadn’t counted on was for it to leave them completely speechless.
For a long moment they just stood in the doorway, staring. The walls were the familiar golden copper, and the floor was softly carpeted, but it was the bed that stunned them into silence.
It was large, circular, and sunken down into the floor, with an overabundance of silky blue bedding, gently gleaming at them in the soft light.
And then everything clicked into place.
“It’s a pond!” she said, delighted, and began laughing, the pent-up emotions of recent events finally spilling out as she shook with laughter, clinging onto the Doctor to stop falling over.
“A pond...” he said slowly, frowning, and she tried her best to control her breathing.
“A pond, for Mr and Mrs Pond,” she stated, as firmly as she could between giggles, and his mouth fell open.
“And that is how it works!” she said, as she grabbed hold of him and dragged him across the floor.
“You’re a Pond now, from this day forward. Better get used to it!”
And there is was - that look which had taken her breath away when standing in top of their pyramid.
“Melody Pond. It’s my honour.”
The kiss that followed - and the night that ensued - didn’t actually create or destroy any worlds. Although it felt like it.
A new, breathless joy welled up in her - she would show him, with everything she had, that he was loved. Show him, so he would never forget. The TARDIS was whispering to her, golden eternity dancing at the back of her mind, and as she pulled back to push his jacket and braces off his shoulders, she murmured ‘My Doctor’ with a possessiveness she couldn’t begin to explain, only she knew that this was who she was meant to be.
Then there was passion, and nakedness, and the thrill of touch and taste - exploration and the careful stoking of embers until she felt ready to burst into flame.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, voice low and husky, and she felt like screaming that if he didn’t do something now she was going to punch him.
“Yes,” she managed, feeling the weight of his body and the anticipation, her every nerve-ending quivering, felt like it would never end.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered, and she did as she was told and then- He entered her.
Her eyes flew open in shock as her world expanded, every touch, every sensation magnified, duplicated, mirrored... She could feel him inside her, yet also feel her around him, and as her eyes settled on his face, she could see herself.
“Close your eyes,” he said again, softly, “it takes time to get used to. Focus on just the physical to begin with and let me lead...”
She nodded, closing her eyes once more, and giving herself over to pure pleasure. If there was a word for it, it was not one she knew. Sometimes she had wondered what it would like to be male, what their experience of love making felt like... She was beginning to get an idea, yet this was so much more, the passion duplicated and reflected back, his and hers, entwined and in perfect harmony, rising and building, every movement sparking further joy, like a perpetually expanding fractal. She literally couldn’t tell where he ended and she began, their shared delight far beyond anything she could ever have imagined.
~
Afterwards, it took a long while before either of them spoke. Eventually, he kissed her curls, then asked:
“Mind blown?”
“Everything blown,” she replied. “I’m not even sure I’m me any longer...”
Concern surfaced, and he found her eyes.
“You sure you’re OK?”
“Oooooh yes. And it’s really put a different spin on ‘multiple orgasms’.”
He chuckled, reassured, and lazily pulled her a little closer.
“Yes rather... I’m sure you see why the whole issue of gender is... somewhat a moot point. And why Time Lords didn’t, as a rule, mingle with lesser species...”
“What do you mean?”
There might have been an edge to her words, and he hesitated.
“Well. It could kill them.”
“Kill them?”
“It’s a true meeting and melding of minds. An ordinary human would not be able to contain the mind of a Time Lord. They would... burn up.”
There was a sudden seriousness in his eyes, and she wondered what had happened, because there was something personal in the unexpected sadness. Although right now she didn’t want him dwelling on the past - this moment was hers - so she gently stroked his back.
“Hush my Love, and thank the stars for my Time Head.”
“Oh believe me, I am. I never-”
He looked at her, all awe and wonder and pure, unadulterated joy.
“I never thought I could have this - real intimacy - again. I thought I’d destroyed it all. My River-”
She cut him off with a kiss.
~
All around, the TARDIS hummed with quiet triumph; her thief and her child safe and happy, protected (in this moment, in her forever) from the storms of their lives.
She was his, body and soul, bespoke; they were two halves of a whole, and many years later (when she was so much older, and he so much younger), on Demons Run, a leaf would tell him who and what she was, and she would see that very same look light up his face (for the first time).
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♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
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I have you to thank for dragging it into the light after all this time - you taking about how River hits THOSE feelings made me dimply remember that I had a story I'd never posted... Glad you like it! It's a sort of love letter to my OTP.
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Very, very glad to be of service.
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The bed, the pond in which the couple could swim toward and through each other, was a bit of beautiful imagery as well.
So, yes, beautiful. Thank you for writing this.
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♥
I really like the way you show how River can compartmentalize her memories, undoubtedly the only way she can live the life she has tried to build with the man she loves.
A lot of this is just from trying to work out what must have happened... And she must have hidden her actual memories somewhere 'out of sight'. Plus, she clearly excels at compartmentalisation.
At the end, the hint of a call back to Donna was unexpected, but particularly appreciated (although his use of the word "lesser" was ... less than diplomatic.
And now I have spent waaaaay too long trying to find the line where he insults human brains (there is something about 'how do you get around in those things?'). Anyway, he is never unaware of who and what he is. (As always: "Yeah, I know what an allegory is," said Ace.)
The bed, the pond in which the couple could swim toward and through each other, was a bit of beautiful imagery as well.
It was a ridiculous joke, but also very fitting?
So, yes, beautiful. Thank you for writing this.
Thank you for reading. <3