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Fic: River's Choice.
Oh this one has been a labour of love. I hope you like it. Many thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kathyh for the beta. :)
Summary/setting: Companion piece to Donna’s Choice (Eleven visits Donna), and set immediately afterwards. Like the previous piece, this one also deals with problematic consent issues. (It’s also shamelessly shippy - you have been warned...)
Rating: PG.
Word count: 1300.
Characters/pairings: Eleven/River.
Spoilers: S5.
River’s Choice
He was standing at the central console, hands undecided, as his treacherous memory played painful games with him...
(Donna’s hands grasping onto controls bathed in a turquoise glow, voice half-excited, half-petrified - “I can't believe I'm doing this!”)
He could still feel her death beneath his hands, the murder he’d had to commit. Because it was murder, even though this time she’d chosen herself. ‘Assisted suicide’ was far too simplistic a term for something of such drastic magnitude - something he knew he could never have chosen himself, not for anyone.
(“Could you change back?”/“Yes.”/“Will you?”/“No.”)
Death... Death, when it came down to it, was an easy choice. Un-existence, even, something he had managed to embrace. But being less than he was, trapped, unknowing - no. Donna had been braver than he.
Finally moving he chose not to choose, whispering “Surprise me”, as he let the TARDIS decide what he most needed now.
When they landed, the large circular screen showed a compact - and rather messy - office, shelves piled high with books, data cubes and artefacts and, behind a desk, a mass of unruly curls.
His hands communicated a ‘thank you’ with a gentle pat, and his feet were dragging a shade less than when he had entered.
As he opened the door she looked up, smiling, but shaking her head.
“Go back a year.”
He blinked, and her eyes turned soft, as did her voice.
“It was a wonderful night, and I dearly wish I could relive it. Go on, before I decide to break the rules.”
He nodded and did as he was told. The importance of keeping time...
(“Not those times. Not one line! Don't you dare!”)
Moments later the same office materialised around him, although the clutter had moved, and this time the curls - a little darker - shook with annoyance.
“What have I told you about landing in my office?”
“Nothing,” he replied truthfully. “Well- you told me to go back a year, so I did.”
She sighed, resignedly.
“Fine. But don’t do it again. Last time-”
She stopped herself, and then briefly closed her eyes.
“Why are you here?”
He didn’t know what to say. Did they have some kind of code for times like these? There were so many things he didn’t know yet...
“Come with me,” he finally said, and as she noted his stillness the irritation on her face ebbed away, a look of concern entering her eyes.
“Whereto?” she asked cautiously, trying to gauge his mood, and he hesitated.
“Somewhere... somewhere beautiful, I think.”
“Okay,” she nodded, swiftly shuffling some papers around and shutting down her console. Her hands moved towards her diary, but he shook his head.
“Not today.”
She looked up, but withdrew her hand and followed him into the TARDIS without question. Maybe this was a rule - one that he’d just made up. Travels without the diary, for times when he just needed... to not be alone. In time, he reflected, he would probably need her, specifically, since she had the remarkable ability to be what he needed in any situation. He hoped that with time he would learn to be similarly attuned.
They ended up on a tiny planet on the outskirts of the Circinus Galaxy, watching a meteor shower of quite spectacular beauty, and for a long time they just sat in silence, watching the exquisite trails of light that streaked the sky above them.
“Have I ever told you about Donna Noble?” he finally said, and she shook her head.
“You’ve mentioned the name, but that’s all. Who was she?”
For a moment he didn’t answer, but Donna’s words from the Library echoed in his mind...
(“Your friend... Professor Song... She knew you in the future, but she didn't know me. What happens to me? Because when she heard my name, the way she looked at me...”)
Self-fulfilling prophecies, he thought wryly, as he quietly began to talk, had a way of being impossible to escape.
Yet he discovered that once he’d started, he couldn’t stop. Of course he was good at talking, words being so very useful for hiding behind, or in. But to just talk, to simply let that well run and run and not hold back... he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that. Had he ever? And River just listened - he knew whatever he said he would neither shock nor impress her, and the freedom this gave him was quite staggering.
When he had finally finished Donna’s story (from first appearance, in her wedding dress, to final, painful visit) he had somehow ended up with his head in River’s lap, which he had discovered was very comfortable. River was silently running her hands through his hair, but her eyes were on his face, rather than the splendour of the sky.
He felt spent and oddly vulnerable, and watching her reflective face he found himself asking one of those questions he knew he shouldn’t ever ask. Plus, in her case it was a lying sort of question, since he knew the answer. But she didn’t... Circumstances had forced her hand, and he was curious to find out how she imagined her (their) future.
“How long are you going to stay with me?”
(”Forever” she’d said, and they’d both pretended to believe the lie.)
Hearts beating he waited for River’s response - she was an accomplished liar, he knew, and yet he felt sure that there were some truths that she always faced head-on.
She smiled softly, and her hand stilled.
“Till death do us part,” she said simply, and he had to swallow against the sudden pain. And yet death had only been the beginning...
She had been right though, on Alfalfa Metraxis - he would always be there to catch her. Even the final time she leapt into the unknown, he was/would be/had been there. River Song - saved.
But then Donna’s voice intruded again - she seemed to have made herself permanently at home in his mind, bluntly distracting him from his agreeable thoughts on chivalry and devotion:
(“Oh Doctor, when will you learn to let people make their own choices?”)
She won’t/doesn’t/didn’t mind, he told himself, watching the woman above him. She knows me, she knows what I’m like. And anyway, she chooses me, every time. The answer is always ‘yes’.
And yet now the thought was there, it wouldn’t go away. She’d only been a data ghost - a snippet of consciousness, the merest whisper of memory - when he’d stored her in The Library; his, forever, and never lost.
(“Some days, nobody dies at all.”)
But did he have the right?
“River...” he started, cautiously, “what if... What if I could keep you... after?”
She raised a bemused eyebrow.
”After death? Why Sweetie, I never thought you were one for mummification. Or would you like to keep my head in a jar on the console?”
He waved the joke away irritably.
“No no. I mean...” he searched for the right words, painfully aware that he mustn’t give the game away.
(“Rule number one: The Doctor always lies.”)
“Would you... if you could, these things are tricky, but if - would you maybe hang around, after? Haunt the TARDIS, keep an eye on me? That sort of thing. I keep losing people...”
Stars were burning in the black sky above her, as her hand gently cradled his face, and he read the answer in her eyes before she spoke it out loud.
“Yes.”
kathyh for the beta. :)Summary/setting: Companion piece to Donna’s Choice (Eleven visits Donna), and set immediately afterwards. Like the previous piece, this one also deals with problematic consent issues. (It’s also shamelessly shippy - you have been warned...)
Rating: PG.
Word count: 1300.
Characters/pairings: Eleven/River.
Spoilers: S5.
He was standing at the central console, hands undecided, as his treacherous memory played painful games with him...
(Donna’s hands grasping onto controls bathed in a turquoise glow, voice half-excited, half-petrified - “I can't believe I'm doing this!”)
He could still feel her death beneath his hands, the murder he’d had to commit. Because it was murder, even though this time she’d chosen herself. ‘Assisted suicide’ was far too simplistic a term for something of such drastic magnitude - something he knew he could never have chosen himself, not for anyone.
(“Could you change back?”/“Yes.”/“Will you?”/“No.”)
Death... Death, when it came down to it, was an easy choice. Un-existence, even, something he had managed to embrace. But being less than he was, trapped, unknowing - no. Donna had been braver than he.
Finally moving he chose not to choose, whispering “Surprise me”, as he let the TARDIS decide what he most needed now.
When they landed, the large circular screen showed a compact - and rather messy - office, shelves piled high with books, data cubes and artefacts and, behind a desk, a mass of unruly curls.
His hands communicated a ‘thank you’ with a gentle pat, and his feet were dragging a shade less than when he had entered.
As he opened the door she looked up, smiling, but shaking her head.
“Go back a year.”
He blinked, and her eyes turned soft, as did her voice.
“It was a wonderful night, and I dearly wish I could relive it. Go on, before I decide to break the rules.”
He nodded and did as he was told. The importance of keeping time...
(“Not those times. Not one line! Don't you dare!”)
Moments later the same office materialised around him, although the clutter had moved, and this time the curls - a little darker - shook with annoyance.
“What have I told you about landing in my office?”
“Nothing,” he replied truthfully. “Well- you told me to go back a year, so I did.”
She sighed, resignedly.
“Fine. But don’t do it again. Last time-”
She stopped herself, and then briefly closed her eyes.
“Why are you here?”
He didn’t know what to say. Did they have some kind of code for times like these? There were so many things he didn’t know yet...
“Come with me,” he finally said, and as she noted his stillness the irritation on her face ebbed away, a look of concern entering her eyes.
“Whereto?” she asked cautiously, trying to gauge his mood, and he hesitated.
“Somewhere... somewhere beautiful, I think.”
“Okay,” she nodded, swiftly shuffling some papers around and shutting down her console. Her hands moved towards her diary, but he shook his head.
“Not today.”
She looked up, but withdrew her hand and followed him into the TARDIS without question. Maybe this was a rule - one that he’d just made up. Travels without the diary, for times when he just needed... to not be alone. In time, he reflected, he would probably need her, specifically, since she had the remarkable ability to be what he needed in any situation. He hoped that with time he would learn to be similarly attuned.
They ended up on a tiny planet on the outskirts of the Circinus Galaxy, watching a meteor shower of quite spectacular beauty, and for a long time they just sat in silence, watching the exquisite trails of light that streaked the sky above them.
“Have I ever told you about Donna Noble?” he finally said, and she shook her head.
“You’ve mentioned the name, but that’s all. Who was she?”
For a moment he didn’t answer, but Donna’s words from the Library echoed in his mind...
(“Your friend... Professor Song... She knew you in the future, but she didn't know me. What happens to me? Because when she heard my name, the way she looked at me...”)
Self-fulfilling prophecies, he thought wryly, as he quietly began to talk, had a way of being impossible to escape.
Yet he discovered that once he’d started, he couldn’t stop. Of course he was good at talking, words being so very useful for hiding behind, or in. But to just talk, to simply let that well run and run and not hold back... he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that. Had he ever? And River just listened - he knew whatever he said he would neither shock nor impress her, and the freedom this gave him was quite staggering.
When he had finally finished Donna’s story (from first appearance, in her wedding dress, to final, painful visit) he had somehow ended up with his head in River’s lap, which he had discovered was very comfortable. River was silently running her hands through his hair, but her eyes were on his face, rather than the splendour of the sky.
He felt spent and oddly vulnerable, and watching her reflective face he found himself asking one of those questions he knew he shouldn’t ever ask. Plus, in her case it was a lying sort of question, since he knew the answer. But she didn’t... Circumstances had forced her hand, and he was curious to find out how she imagined her (their) future.
“How long are you going to stay with me?”
(”Forever” she’d said, and they’d both pretended to believe the lie.)
Hearts beating he waited for River’s response - she was an accomplished liar, he knew, and yet he felt sure that there were some truths that she always faced head-on.
She smiled softly, and her hand stilled.
“Till death do us part,” she said simply, and he had to swallow against the sudden pain. And yet death had only been the beginning...
She had been right though, on Alfalfa Metraxis - he would always be there to catch her. Even the final time she leapt into the unknown, he was/would be/had been there. River Song - saved.
But then Donna’s voice intruded again - she seemed to have made herself permanently at home in his mind, bluntly distracting him from his agreeable thoughts on chivalry and devotion:
(“Oh Doctor, when will you learn to let people make their own choices?”)
She won’t/doesn’t/didn’t mind, he told himself, watching the woman above him. She knows me, she knows what I’m like. And anyway, she chooses me, every time. The answer is always ‘yes’.
And yet now the thought was there, it wouldn’t go away. She’d only been a data ghost - a snippet of consciousness, the merest whisper of memory - when he’d stored her in The Library; his, forever, and never lost.
(“Some days, nobody dies at all.”)
But did he have the right?
“River...” he started, cautiously, “what if... What if I could keep you... after?”
She raised a bemused eyebrow.
”After death? Why Sweetie, I never thought you were one for mummification. Or would you like to keep my head in a jar on the console?”
He waved the joke away irritably.
“No no. I mean...” he searched for the right words, painfully aware that he mustn’t give the game away.
(“Rule number one: The Doctor always lies.”)
“Would you... if you could, these things are tricky, but if - would you maybe hang around, after? Haunt the TARDIS, keep an eye on me? That sort of thing. I keep losing people...”
Stars were burning in the black sky above her, as her hand gently cradled his face, and he read the answer in her eyes before she spoke it out loud.
“Yes.”
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More later. I must go hang laundry and contemplate the possibilities for River's head in a jar meeting Nixon's head in a jar . . .
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Am running out the door, but am now laughing my head off at the heads in jars thing! Oh, it's been MUCH too long since I watched Futurama...
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Thank you again. ♥
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Yay, fic about how River heard of Donna! This is one of those things I always wanted someone to fic, but didn’t know I did until I read it. (Hope that made a little bit of sense.) And then it also had River saying she’d like to “hang around”, which made it even better.
This is just as beautiful as the Donna piece, while still making the similarities and the differences between Donna and River clear.
‘Go back a year’ is a great beginning! I love the matter-of-factness of it, and the respect for the time lines. The meteor shower talk was just lovely, all of it. Oh, and the parantheses, the quotes: perfectly chosen.
And these…
Plus, in her case it was a lying sort of question, since he knew the answer.
This sentence says so much so subtly, and it fits the mood perfectly.
She had been right though, on Alfalfa Metraxis - he would always be there to catch her. Even the final time she leapt into the unknown, he was/would be/had been there. River Song - saved. And this. That never occurred to me, and it is so true!
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I was utterly shocked when I saw my story being rec'd, particularly since I'd posted this story just a short while before. The timing was beyond perfect, since I'd always intended them to go together. (So I added the link asap! I'm so glad you followed it!)
Yay, fic about how River heard of Donna! This is one of those things I always wanted someone to fic, but didn’t know I did until I read it. (Hope that made a little bit of sense.)
Perfect sense! It happens to me a lot too!
And then it also had River saying she’d like to “hang around”, which made it even better.
*beams*
This is just as beautiful as the Donna piece, while still making the similarities and the differences between Donna and River clear.
Oh this makes me very happy. I adore them both, in each their way, and I think the Doctor is very aware of how lucky he is/was...
‘Go back a year’ is a great beginning! I love the matter-of-factness of it, and the respect for the time lines.
I love how their relationship is so very solid, and yet built on something so fragile, and playing with those aspects is fascinating.
The meteor shower talk was just lovely, all of it.
I think I was subconsciously thinking about River's description of their last meeting ("You took me to Darillium to see the singing towers. Oh, what a night that was! The towers sang, and you cried.") I wanted something similar, because I don't think that night was a one-off.
Oh, and the parantheses, the quotes: perfectly chosen.
Most of my fic is meta-heavy, but sometimes I just go flat-out, because I need to anchor everything to canon so it doesn't float away, if that makes sense. (ETA: Plus, of course, quotes are a brilliant shorthand!)
This sentence says so much so subtly, and it fits the mood perfectly.
You know, that's one of the first lines that I thought of, one of those integral to the whole thing. So thank you for picking it out. :)
And this. That never occurred to me, and it is so true!
And that was one of the things that came to me as I was writing, and I almost gasped at the perfection of it. Of course he saves her - it's what he does.
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Oh, and now I'm all sniffely! Just allergies you know!
That was lovely. You captured the Doctor's voice beautifully; I could almost hear it. And a very believable relationship with River. I loved the "go back a year"; especially since he did without even questioning.
::sniff::
But then Donna’s voice intruded again - she seemed to have made herself permanently at home in his mind, bluntly distracting him from his agreeable thoughts on chivalry and devotion:
I love the Doctor, but I think he needs a little Donna voice in his head. She was always sensible, and she loved him.
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::hugs you::
Oh, and now I'm all sniffely! Just allergies you know!
Of course. ::hands you tissue::
That was lovely. You captured the Doctor's voice beautifully; I could almost hear it.
He behaved himself beautifully in this - he can be tricky, but I had no problems at all this time. *pets him*
And a very believable relationship with River.
Thank you - it's still at a very cautious stage, but I think I made it work.
I loved the "go back a year"; especially since he did without even questioning.
Poor thing, he's not feeling up to arguing at all - plus, he got confirmation that it'd all turn out OK, which is what he needed most, I think.
I love the Doctor, but I think he needs a little Donna voice in his head. She was always sensible, and she loved him.
*nods a lot*
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”After death? Why Sweetie, I never thought you were one for mummification. Or would you like to keep my head in a jar on the console?”
HEE.
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Aw, thank you. ♥ ♥ ♥
HEE.
You know, that part just WROTE ITSELF! Nothing to do with me! ;)
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I love the idea that the Doctor still hears Donna's voice in his head. Given that she was his best friend [which is a kind of love that i think, sometimes, can affect people more profoundly than romantic love] and she was the companion that wouldn't take his BS, it just... makes sense.
The River/Doctor interaction was just wonderful, too<3
Thanks for sharing.
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♥ ♥ ♥
I love the idea that the Doctor still hears Donna's voice in his head. Given that she was his best friend [which is a kind of love that i think, sometimes, can affect people more profoundly than romantic love] and she was the companion that wouldn't take his BS, it just... makes sense.
It does, doesn't it? And I think you're spot-on with the Best Friend part. His friendship with Donna was very uncomplicated, and that's what made it so special - they just 'got' each other, and because of the way she met him, she was never inclined to put him on a pedestal.
The River/Doctor interaction was just wonderful, too<3
I could write those two forever!
Thanks for sharing.
Thank you for commenting! :)
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You've created a wonderful and poignant atmosphere.It went straight to my heart.
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These things happen. :)
You've created a wonderful and poignant atmosphere.It went straight to my heart.
Aw, thank you. Originally it was supposed to only be a drabble, but River decided that she needed more...
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BUT THIS FIC. ♥ ♥ ♥
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(But I'm here now. Better late than never, right?)
I followed this from the current discussion on River Song's end (which I agree with you.)
Oh I remember that! And thank you - I rather love her ending, because it works so beautifully metaphorically, so I can't dislike it story or character wise. Like most things, when it comes to Moffat, I'm sure the story will follow the metaphor, and at some point it'll all make sense.
BUT THIS FIC. ♥ ♥ ♥
Squeeeeee! I love meta fic, and this really sums up so much of my thinking when it comes to these two... ♥ ♥ ♥
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♥
The only problem I have ever had with River's ending is her "death" because, as you explore here, it seems so non-consensual to me.
Which is why I'm sure something like this will appear onscreen - or if not, then off-screen, in my head. ;)
I love the way you've done this, with the Doctor visiting her because he knows she'll be exactly what he needs, and asking her the same question. My little shipper heart flails on this improvement on the Library <3
Funnily enough it was supposed to be just a tiny little coda to the Donna fic. Like a ficlet or a drabble or something, with the Doctor holding onto River, because he had lost Donna forever. But then once I began thinking about it, everything just slotted into place and I suddenly knew exactly what to do with it. (Meta disguised as fic is my speciality. *g*)
Anyway, I'm thrilled that you liked it! :)
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But yes, I thought it probable for something like this to have happened at some point - and it's interesting how S6 has actually confirmed this, since the Doctor we now have is far less likely to blithely walk in and make decisions for others. Knowing her fate, he'd want to make sure she was OK with it.
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I love that, that he got River's consent. Even if she didn't know what she was consenting to.
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And oh, River's consent. I'm sure that at some point they have a conversation like this - probably not on screen, but I can't imagine the Doctor not somehow trying to work out if she'd be happy in the Library. But of course, she always says 'Yes'.