![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Fic: Trust Me (I'm a Lying Liar Who Lies). Chapter 1.
OK, so I decided to just throw this out there. I'll probably regret it, because posting will be slow. By which I mean - I hope you enjoy! :) (Un-beta'd so all mistakes 100% mine.)
Summary: In which River is enigmatic, Martha is frustrated, Mickey is intrigued and the Doctor... is a Pond.
Setting: Post-S6 (spoilers for everything aired so far, including First Night/Last Night and The Christmas Special).
Characters: Martha, Mickey, River, the Doctor (11), OCs. (More characters will probably turn up later.)
Word count (this chapter): 2500 approx.
Rating: PG
Trust Me (I'm a Lying Liar Who Lies)
Chapter 1
Spring 2011
“Are you sure about this?”
“Yes, Mickey, I’m sure. It’s got that... oddness. Any second UNIT are going to get wind of it and come wading in, and although I have every respect for them, I know what their procedures are like. The Doctor will know what’s going on, because this sort of thing is what he does.”
“It’s just...” he had that face where he was trying to be gentle with her. She loved that face, even though it often made things more awkward.
“Martha, the last time we saw him...”
“I know,” she said flatly, trying to suppress the memory. “He’s a Timelord, I’m sure... I’m sure he was fine.”
Mickey didn’t look convinced, but before he could voice any more objections Martha pressed her lips together and pulled out her phone. She’d call him and he would be fine. He had to be. After Jack... She couldn’t lose both her dashing, immortal heroes one right after the other. Surely there were intergalactic laws against that.
It took a good while before there was an answer, however. The bright spring sunlight seemed to mock her as she leaned against the SUV, letting her eyes drift across the landscape which was still hovering between the barrenness of winter and the exuberance of spring.
Maybe it was all a wild goose chase after all? She wasn’t even sure what to do if she didn’t get through to the Doctor. They were nearly three hours’ drive from home, in the middle of nowhere, and she could already vividly imagine Mickey’s ‘Well, at least we had a nice Sunday in the countryside...'
And then - finally - someone answered.
“Martha?” asked a happy, but muffled, voice, nearly drowned out against explosions.
“Doctor?” she asked, wincing as another blast came through. “Doctor? Are you OK?”
“Never better!” he replied, his voice sounding oddly unlike him, but it was hard to tell with all the noise. “Do you need me?”
“Um, yes, there is... it doesn’t sound like much, sorry, but there’s this archaeological find which is...”
“Hang on-” he said, but whatever he said next was drowned out by an almighty boom - and the phone went dead.
“Doctor? Doctor?” she cried, looking at Mickey, heart beating, and he instinctively grasped her hand.
“Martha? What is it?”
“I... I don’t know... There were explosions and I could barely hear him and then the connection cut out.”
She held his eyes, and oh, he would be perfectly justified in saying ‘What did I say?’ However, he was her Mickey, and he smiled his best encouraging smile.
“Look, just give it a minute, I’m sure he’ll call back, or-”
He stopped, and they looked at each other as an unmistakable grinding noise filled the air.
Turning they saw the TARDIS materialise a little down the narrow road, and Mickey grinned.
“See? Your daft faith in him obviously worked.”
“Shut up,” she smiled, before they half-ran down the road towards the most incredible blue box in the world, and she knew that Mickey was no less excited than she was herself.
But as they got closer the door opened and a curly-haired woman stepped out. She was sensibly dressed in tall, black boots, moss green jodhpurs and a bright white shirt, over which she wore a fur-lined brown jacket, and she had a gun strapped to her leg. Looking at them she smiled, holding out her hand.
“Martha, right? And Mickey. It’s a pleasure to meet you - I’m Doctor River Song. But just call me River.”
Martha automatically shook her hand, followed by Mickey, but couldn’t meet River’s smile.
“Where’s the Doctor?”
River clasped her hands together, an odd look flitting across her face - the sort of look that made Martha instinctively wary.
“Well we... had a bit of a disagreement, so I came alone. Archaeology is my area of expertise, you see, and he was being rude... Again.”
She did a perfect impression of a long suffering wife, and Martha could feel herself silently bristling with equal parts disbelief and unease.
‘I came alone’... Alone. Alone? No one could fly the TARDIS except the Doctor (and a certain other person who was now thankfully dead).
Taking a deep breath Martha fixed River with a determined glare.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but... who are you? I know you told us your name, but...”
She left the sentence hanging, not quite knowing how to politely ask: ‘How do we know that you didn’t just steal the TARDIS and lock the Doctor up, or... worse?’
River raised an eyebrow, face inscrutable.
“Oh you are good - I can see why he picked you. Although...”
Something stole into her eyes; something which gave Martha the strangest sense of deja vu. It was a nameless disquiet of foreboding, and she could feel herself tense up.
River continued, voice still perfectly level, but now holding an unmistakable hint of warning.
“Have you considered that if I had indeed killed the Doctor and stolen his TARDIS, you really wouldn’t want to get on my wrong side?”
For a moment they all looked at each other in uneasy, disbelieving silence, and then River burst out laughing.
“Oh the looks on your faces! I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but since you’re so curious - I’m his wife!”
Another pause as they stared at her dumbfounded. Mickey found his voice first.
“Wait - hold on. What do you mean... wife?”
River’s face was pure amusement.
“Well... the normal meaning. The to have and to hold kind... I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept, Mr and Mrs Smith-Jones?”
Martha shook her head.
“But- but he doesn’t. I mean-”
Mr Reticent, that was the Doctor. She knew from Mickey that even the precious Rose had only been kissed in order to save her life... But Mickey was studying River speculatively, and then looked at Martha.
“You didn’t see him with Madame du Pompadour,” he said carefully. “Not to mention the way he talked about ‘Cleo’...”
“Oh Cleo,” River said, voice practically a purr, and Mickey slowly turned his head towards her.
“Actually, he sounded pretty much exactly like that.”
“You know, the stories are absolutely true,” River smiled. “It’s the nose that gets you.”
“You mean, he took you to see her?” Martha asked, feeling completely out of her depth at the direction the conversation was taking, and River shook her head, curls dancing.
“Oh no, the Doctor was... indisposed at the time. And I needed a favour. She was very forthcoming by the way...”
Jack Harkness himself couldn’t have crammed more innuendo into the words, nor could he have smiled a smile more devious. Martha began to feel as if she was standing on quicksand.
“Look, can we just-”
River chuckled, clearly revelling in the confusion she was causing.
“Well why don’t we talk as we walk? I’m guessing the site isn’t far?”
“We’ve got a car,” Mickey said. “It’s only a few minutes' drive.”
“Brilliant. You can tell me all about the dig - let’s prove to him that interesting things can happen on a Sunday, shall we?”
Mickey grinned in response, and Martha tried to relax. Mickey was very good at sounding out people, and if he felt that River was trustworthy... Well, Martha would just have to mentally shove River into the same box she kept for anything regarding Rose Tyler.
Martha drove (which required a fair bit of concentration as the dirt track was full of large holes), so Mickey explained about the newly discovered burial mound which had no alien signs to it at all, but nonetheless seemed very other. The archaeologists interviewed on the local news (a clip of which Martha had accidentally stumbled across on youtube) had been very excited, thinking that it might be something to do with ‘the missing link’ since it was very old, and didn’t fit anything else previously found. They were still uncovering new things, and were just biding their time before going national - they were sure this could be the discovery of the century.
River’s eyes narrowed, muttering “I wonder...”, before catching herself.
Martha noticed, but kept quiet since she didn’t know what to do or how to frame all the questions in her mind. Why would the Doctor get married? Well, he’d been very caught up in nurse Redfern, but that had been a unique situation... Why had he never said? And what had been the deal the last time they’d seen him? There were too many unknowns, and she had a suspicion that River - whoever she was - would answer precisely none.
As they got out, having parked near some sturdy-looking shelters the archaeologists obviously used for eating and sleeping, Mickey turned to Martha and murmured: “Well you were right about one thing - he does prefer blondes.”
Martha hissed and slapped him on the arm (she wasn’t jealous!), but River looked over her shoulder, smirking.
“Redheads, actually. Which is where all the problems with Lizzie came in. Went to see her once and nearly got beheaded.”
“Hold on-” Martha exclaimed, as an old memory reasserted itself. “Do you mean Queen Elizabeth the First?”
River nodded. “They were going to elope, but he never came back for her...”
“Well... that does explain a lot,” Martha said slowly. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe River, and all her explanations seemed perfectly rational and straightforward. Yet - why would the Doctor decide to elope with Elizabeth the First? And where was he? This woman with the curls and the smug confidence was in some ways entirely like the Doctor, and yet... She carried a gun, and she’d given no explanation for why - or how - she had been flying the TARDIS. (Apart from that one horrible suggestion which Martha had silently labelled 'Worst joke ever'.) Still - somewhere something didn’t add up, she just couldn't work out what... But what could she do?
The site was quiet, and as they made their way between the shelters and into a large space circled by trees, only a single person emerged from the mound at the other side, waving.
“Hello!” he shouted, and River walked up to him with a wide smile.
“Hello, Doctor River Song. I was sent along by Professor Pond to have a look around? I wouldn’t claim to be an expert, but I find this particular area absolutely fascinating...”
She briefly waved a psychic paper in the man’s face, and then launched into a discussion so full of jargon and long words that Martha had to admit that whatever she might suspect, River was most certainly a genuine archaeologist.
Her colleague turned out to be Doctor Roberts, a rather raggedy-looking figure of indeterminable age with unkempt hair. He was dressed in an old tweed jacket thrown over a stripy jumper that had clearly seen better days, the look topped off with corduroy trousers and sturdy builder's boots. He barely glanced at Martha and Mickey as River introduced them as students tagging along for the experience, being far too excited about showing ‘Doctor Song’ the mound. He was of course presuming she was aware that he was only doing this as a courtesy? Everyone else had decided to go to the pub for a Sunday roast, where they would probably tell everyone and their mother about their theories. Although if he was quite honest he thought they all had the wrong end of the stick. In his personal opinion...
With River’s prompting he launched into a convoluted explanation of his own hypothesis, which River listened to with rapt attention, as Martha and Mickey shot each other looks. Martians, of course. Like the pyramids... Martha quelled a strong urge to punch him, although she was quietly pleased - UNIT would definitely have been all over this within days.
As they eventually entered the mound itself River withdrew a small torch which had been attached to her belt and let out a low whistle.
“Oh I knew it...”
“What do you mean?” the other archaeologist asked, and River turned to him, biting her lip.
“Could I ask a favour? I would love it if you could type up your theory - you’re clearly onto something.” She smiled and seemed to flutter her eyelashes, although maybe that was just a trick of the torch light. “I’ll be fine just having a little snoop around myself....”
“Of course,” Doctor Roberts said eagerly, “not a problem. If you need me, just holler - there’s only me around.”
“Will do,” River smouldered, and then watched him walk away, turning to Martha and Mickey as he disappeared outside, face a mixture of exasperation and excitement.
“Thought he’d never leave. You were absolutely right - this isn’t human. But-” Her eyes sparkled. “It isn’t alien either.”
Mickey looked confused, and wasn’t afraid to put voice to his thoughts.
“What do you mean?”
“This,” River waved her hand around, “is a Silurian burial place! I had no idea that they existed. This could earn me a professorship one day you know...”
“And what’s a Silurian?” Mickey asked, and River - busy scanning the walls with a flat rectangular device - answered rather inattentively.
“Homo Reptilia - they inhabited the planet 200 million years ago, but went to sleep... Hold on.”
Next moment the device had evidently turned into a phone of some description.
“Hello Sweetie. You’ll never believe this! It’s a Silurian burial place-”
A shadow fell across the opening, accompanied by a strange sort of clicking noise, and - seemingly without moving - River had drawn her gun and was now aiming it at the creature blocking the exit. Which was pointing a weapon of its own right back at them. It looked a bit like a deformed fish, with thick scales covering its face and ridges along the top.
“I’ll call you back,” River said and slowly lowered her communicator, and Martha felt that being right was maybe not the best thing ever.
“You are disturbing the sleep of my ancestors,” the creature (a Silurian it would seem) said coldly, and River inclined her head a fraction.
“I’m sorry. I’m an archaeologist. I meant no disrespect.”
“You bring Timelord technology and soldiers. I know your kind.”
River’s eyes narrowed.
“You are an enemy of the Doctor?”
“The Doctor spoke sweet words, but he tricked us. My kin were murdered and I have lived these past 40 years in lonely bitterness. And now you come and disturb even those gone for aeons. Yes, the Doctor is my enemy, the man I curse every waking second.”
River’s face hardened, her smile turning chilly and dangerous.
“I’m the woman who killed him. Let’s talk.”
As the devastating words sank in, Martha realised that even though River was still focussed on the Silurian, her gun was now pointing straight at her and Mickey.
“Don’t even think about it kids, I can shoot faster than you can think.”
Then she slowly turned her head and looked at them, face unreadable.
“No offence.”
Chapter 2.
Summary: In which River is enigmatic, Martha is frustrated, Mickey is intrigued and the Doctor... is a Pond.
Setting: Post-S6 (spoilers for everything aired so far, including First Night/Last Night and The Christmas Special).
Characters: Martha, Mickey, River, the Doctor (11), OCs. (More characters will probably turn up later.)
Word count (this chapter): 2500 approx.
Rating: PG
Chapter 1
Spring 2011
“Are you sure about this?”
“Yes, Mickey, I’m sure. It’s got that... oddness. Any second UNIT are going to get wind of it and come wading in, and although I have every respect for them, I know what their procedures are like. The Doctor will know what’s going on, because this sort of thing is what he does.”
“It’s just...” he had that face where he was trying to be gentle with her. She loved that face, even though it often made things more awkward.
“Martha, the last time we saw him...”
“I know,” she said flatly, trying to suppress the memory. “He’s a Timelord, I’m sure... I’m sure he was fine.”
Mickey didn’t look convinced, but before he could voice any more objections Martha pressed her lips together and pulled out her phone. She’d call him and he would be fine. He had to be. After Jack... She couldn’t lose both her dashing, immortal heroes one right after the other. Surely there were intergalactic laws against that.
It took a good while before there was an answer, however. The bright spring sunlight seemed to mock her as she leaned against the SUV, letting her eyes drift across the landscape which was still hovering between the barrenness of winter and the exuberance of spring.
Maybe it was all a wild goose chase after all? She wasn’t even sure what to do if she didn’t get through to the Doctor. They were nearly three hours’ drive from home, in the middle of nowhere, and she could already vividly imagine Mickey’s ‘Well, at least we had a nice Sunday in the countryside...'
And then - finally - someone answered.
“Martha?” asked a happy, but muffled, voice, nearly drowned out against explosions.
“Doctor?” she asked, wincing as another blast came through. “Doctor? Are you OK?”
“Never better!” he replied, his voice sounding oddly unlike him, but it was hard to tell with all the noise. “Do you need me?”
“Um, yes, there is... it doesn’t sound like much, sorry, but there’s this archaeological find which is...”
“Hang on-” he said, but whatever he said next was drowned out by an almighty boom - and the phone went dead.
“Doctor? Doctor?” she cried, looking at Mickey, heart beating, and he instinctively grasped her hand.
“Martha? What is it?”
“I... I don’t know... There were explosions and I could barely hear him and then the connection cut out.”
She held his eyes, and oh, he would be perfectly justified in saying ‘What did I say?’ However, he was her Mickey, and he smiled his best encouraging smile.
“Look, just give it a minute, I’m sure he’ll call back, or-”
He stopped, and they looked at each other as an unmistakable grinding noise filled the air.
Turning they saw the TARDIS materialise a little down the narrow road, and Mickey grinned.
“See? Your daft faith in him obviously worked.”
“Shut up,” she smiled, before they half-ran down the road towards the most incredible blue box in the world, and she knew that Mickey was no less excited than she was herself.
But as they got closer the door opened and a curly-haired woman stepped out. She was sensibly dressed in tall, black boots, moss green jodhpurs and a bright white shirt, over which she wore a fur-lined brown jacket, and she had a gun strapped to her leg. Looking at them she smiled, holding out her hand.
“Martha, right? And Mickey. It’s a pleasure to meet you - I’m Doctor River Song. But just call me River.”
Martha automatically shook her hand, followed by Mickey, but couldn’t meet River’s smile.
“Where’s the Doctor?”
River clasped her hands together, an odd look flitting across her face - the sort of look that made Martha instinctively wary.
“Well we... had a bit of a disagreement, so I came alone. Archaeology is my area of expertise, you see, and he was being rude... Again.”
She did a perfect impression of a long suffering wife, and Martha could feel herself silently bristling with equal parts disbelief and unease.
‘I came alone’... Alone. Alone? No one could fly the TARDIS except the Doctor (and a certain other person who was now thankfully dead).
Taking a deep breath Martha fixed River with a determined glare.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but... who are you? I know you told us your name, but...”
She left the sentence hanging, not quite knowing how to politely ask: ‘How do we know that you didn’t just steal the TARDIS and lock the Doctor up, or... worse?’
River raised an eyebrow, face inscrutable.
“Oh you are good - I can see why he picked you. Although...”
Something stole into her eyes; something which gave Martha the strangest sense of deja vu. It was a nameless disquiet of foreboding, and she could feel herself tense up.
River continued, voice still perfectly level, but now holding an unmistakable hint of warning.
“Have you considered that if I had indeed killed the Doctor and stolen his TARDIS, you really wouldn’t want to get on my wrong side?”
For a moment they all looked at each other in uneasy, disbelieving silence, and then River burst out laughing.
“Oh the looks on your faces! I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but since you’re so curious - I’m his wife!”
Another pause as they stared at her dumbfounded. Mickey found his voice first.
“Wait - hold on. What do you mean... wife?”
River’s face was pure amusement.
“Well... the normal meaning. The to have and to hold kind... I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept, Mr and Mrs Smith-Jones?”
Martha shook her head.
“But- but he doesn’t. I mean-”
Mr Reticent, that was the Doctor. She knew from Mickey that even the precious Rose had only been kissed in order to save her life... But Mickey was studying River speculatively, and then looked at Martha.
“You didn’t see him with Madame du Pompadour,” he said carefully. “Not to mention the way he talked about ‘Cleo’...”
“Oh Cleo,” River said, voice practically a purr, and Mickey slowly turned his head towards her.
“Actually, he sounded pretty much exactly like that.”
“You know, the stories are absolutely true,” River smiled. “It’s the nose that gets you.”
“You mean, he took you to see her?” Martha asked, feeling completely out of her depth at the direction the conversation was taking, and River shook her head, curls dancing.
“Oh no, the Doctor was... indisposed at the time. And I needed a favour. She was very forthcoming by the way...”
Jack Harkness himself couldn’t have crammed more innuendo into the words, nor could he have smiled a smile more devious. Martha began to feel as if she was standing on quicksand.
“Look, can we just-”
River chuckled, clearly revelling in the confusion she was causing.
“Well why don’t we talk as we walk? I’m guessing the site isn’t far?”
“We’ve got a car,” Mickey said. “It’s only a few minutes' drive.”
“Brilliant. You can tell me all about the dig - let’s prove to him that interesting things can happen on a Sunday, shall we?”
Mickey grinned in response, and Martha tried to relax. Mickey was very good at sounding out people, and if he felt that River was trustworthy... Well, Martha would just have to mentally shove River into the same box she kept for anything regarding Rose Tyler.
Martha drove (which required a fair bit of concentration as the dirt track was full of large holes), so Mickey explained about the newly discovered burial mound which had no alien signs to it at all, but nonetheless seemed very other. The archaeologists interviewed on the local news (a clip of which Martha had accidentally stumbled across on youtube) had been very excited, thinking that it might be something to do with ‘the missing link’ since it was very old, and didn’t fit anything else previously found. They were still uncovering new things, and were just biding their time before going national - they were sure this could be the discovery of the century.
River’s eyes narrowed, muttering “I wonder...”, before catching herself.
Martha noticed, but kept quiet since she didn’t know what to do or how to frame all the questions in her mind. Why would the Doctor get married? Well, he’d been very caught up in nurse Redfern, but that had been a unique situation... Why had he never said? And what had been the deal the last time they’d seen him? There were too many unknowns, and she had a suspicion that River - whoever she was - would answer precisely none.
As they got out, having parked near some sturdy-looking shelters the archaeologists obviously used for eating and sleeping, Mickey turned to Martha and murmured: “Well you were right about one thing - he does prefer blondes.”
Martha hissed and slapped him on the arm (she wasn’t jealous!), but River looked over her shoulder, smirking.
“Redheads, actually. Which is where all the problems with Lizzie came in. Went to see her once and nearly got beheaded.”
“Hold on-” Martha exclaimed, as an old memory reasserted itself. “Do you mean Queen Elizabeth the First?”
River nodded. “They were going to elope, but he never came back for her...”
“Well... that does explain a lot,” Martha said slowly. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe River, and all her explanations seemed perfectly rational and straightforward. Yet - why would the Doctor decide to elope with Elizabeth the First? And where was he? This woman with the curls and the smug confidence was in some ways entirely like the Doctor, and yet... She carried a gun, and she’d given no explanation for why - or how - she had been flying the TARDIS. (Apart from that one horrible suggestion which Martha had silently labelled 'Worst joke ever'.) Still - somewhere something didn’t add up, she just couldn't work out what... But what could she do?
The site was quiet, and as they made their way between the shelters and into a large space circled by trees, only a single person emerged from the mound at the other side, waving.
“Hello!” he shouted, and River walked up to him with a wide smile.
“Hello, Doctor River Song. I was sent along by Professor Pond to have a look around? I wouldn’t claim to be an expert, but I find this particular area absolutely fascinating...”
She briefly waved a psychic paper in the man’s face, and then launched into a discussion so full of jargon and long words that Martha had to admit that whatever she might suspect, River was most certainly a genuine archaeologist.
Her colleague turned out to be Doctor Roberts, a rather raggedy-looking figure of indeterminable age with unkempt hair. He was dressed in an old tweed jacket thrown over a stripy jumper that had clearly seen better days, the look topped off with corduroy trousers and sturdy builder's boots. He barely glanced at Martha and Mickey as River introduced them as students tagging along for the experience, being far too excited about showing ‘Doctor Song’ the mound. He was of course presuming she was aware that he was only doing this as a courtesy? Everyone else had decided to go to the pub for a Sunday roast, where they would probably tell everyone and their mother about their theories. Although if he was quite honest he thought they all had the wrong end of the stick. In his personal opinion...
With River’s prompting he launched into a convoluted explanation of his own hypothesis, which River listened to with rapt attention, as Martha and Mickey shot each other looks. Martians, of course. Like the pyramids... Martha quelled a strong urge to punch him, although she was quietly pleased - UNIT would definitely have been all over this within days.
As they eventually entered the mound itself River withdrew a small torch which had been attached to her belt and let out a low whistle.
“Oh I knew it...”
“What do you mean?” the other archaeologist asked, and River turned to him, biting her lip.
“Could I ask a favour? I would love it if you could type up your theory - you’re clearly onto something.” She smiled and seemed to flutter her eyelashes, although maybe that was just a trick of the torch light. “I’ll be fine just having a little snoop around myself....”
“Of course,” Doctor Roberts said eagerly, “not a problem. If you need me, just holler - there’s only me around.”
“Will do,” River smouldered, and then watched him walk away, turning to Martha and Mickey as he disappeared outside, face a mixture of exasperation and excitement.
“Thought he’d never leave. You were absolutely right - this isn’t human. But-” Her eyes sparkled. “It isn’t alien either.”
Mickey looked confused, and wasn’t afraid to put voice to his thoughts.
“What do you mean?”
“This,” River waved her hand around, “is a Silurian burial place! I had no idea that they existed. This could earn me a professorship one day you know...”
“And what’s a Silurian?” Mickey asked, and River - busy scanning the walls with a flat rectangular device - answered rather inattentively.
“Homo Reptilia - they inhabited the planet 200 million years ago, but went to sleep... Hold on.”
Next moment the device had evidently turned into a phone of some description.
“Hello Sweetie. You’ll never believe this! It’s a Silurian burial place-”
A shadow fell across the opening, accompanied by a strange sort of clicking noise, and - seemingly without moving - River had drawn her gun and was now aiming it at the creature blocking the exit. Which was pointing a weapon of its own right back at them. It looked a bit like a deformed fish, with thick scales covering its face and ridges along the top.
“I’ll call you back,” River said and slowly lowered her communicator, and Martha felt that being right was maybe not the best thing ever.
“You are disturbing the sleep of my ancestors,” the creature (a Silurian it would seem) said coldly, and River inclined her head a fraction.
“I’m sorry. I’m an archaeologist. I meant no disrespect.”
“You bring Timelord technology and soldiers. I know your kind.”
River’s eyes narrowed.
“You are an enemy of the Doctor?”
“The Doctor spoke sweet words, but he tricked us. My kin were murdered and I have lived these past 40 years in lonely bitterness. And now you come and disturb even those gone for aeons. Yes, the Doctor is my enemy, the man I curse every waking second.”
River’s face hardened, her smile turning chilly and dangerous.
“I’m the woman who killed him. Let’s talk.”
As the devastating words sank in, Martha realised that even though River was still focussed on the Silurian, her gun was now pointing straight at her and Mickey.
“Don’t even think about it kids, I can shoot faster than you can think.”
Then she slowly turned her head and looked at them, face unreadable.
“No offence.”
Chapter 2.
no subject
no subject