fanfiction: when at last i see thee whole (3/?)
Title: when at last i see thee whole
Author:
bendingwind
Notes: [Doctor Who | T/PG-13 | 1400 words]
Characters: River/Doctor
Summary: He has known from the beginning, and yet he never saw it coming. Based on the following photomanip by
aheartthen
[ Part 1 | Part 2 | part 3]
They’re sitting by a pond in the Imperial Gardens of Grand Rosh, dipping their toes in the water. He’s about ninety percent certain there won’t be any dangerous alien incursions in the next fifty years, and about forty percent certain that the Imperial Guards don’t have a scheduled patrol through this sector of the garden today. Or maybe it’s closer to thirty-five percent.
Either way, he feels that the odds are unusually good that they won’t have to do any running for their lives, which was the general idea. River’s sitting next to him, tracing rippling patterns through the water with her bare feet.
“Writing a note?” he asks her quietly, as the black cherry trees rustle in the breeze.
“No, just shapes.” She sounds, to his surprise, rather sad. He knows she’s sick of the TARDIS, because he is as well-endless it may be, and forests and skies it has aplenty, but it’s not quite the same as truly standing on the surface of a planet.
“Would… would you rather go somewhere else?” he asks, hesitantly. She’s still keeping her mind tightly closed off. He reaches over and, after a moment, places his hand over hers on the warm sand.
“These are proper black cherries, from Earth,” she says, either distracting him or answering his question. It’s so very hard to tell sometimes. “Eat enough, crunch down on the seeds and savor the burnt-almond scent, and you’re dead.”
“Er,” he says, very cleverly.
“Over there they’ve got flowering monkshood and white baneberry, both able to induce death in less than a day. There’s some white snakeroot by the small waterfall. In fact, my love, every single plant in this garden except the grass is poisonous, and I’m not entirely sure about the grass.”
“Oh.” He does his best to look properly abashed.
She sighs, and then laughs. “Well, you would accidentally bring us to a garden full of deadly plants when we agreed to find somewhere safe to step out for a bit.”
“I didn’t mean to,” he says, apologetically. He really had tried, this time.
“We’re never going to be able to live a completely safe life, are we?” she asks, and now she sounds wistful.
“Probably not,” he agrees, because he lies a lot, but he’s never been very good at it, and anyway she’s too bright to have believed anything else.
“We should go back to the TARDIS,” she says, and he begins to stand.
“I guess we should,” he agrees, regretfully. He really had been enjoying the nice, breezy, guard-free garden. In fact he estimated that he could have sat there for another half hour or so before the desire to actively seek out something more interesting set in.
He reaches down a hand to help her up, and she scowls at him.
“Remember that speech we had about me being pregnant, not an invalid?” she asks. “I cited all those nice fictional references that use that exact phrase and everything.”
“Er, yes,” he says, quickly stuffing his hands in his pockets. He still isn’t entirely sure what to do with the tired, quiet River she’s become, even after traveling with her for a month.
She stands on her own, the swell of her stomach only slightly visible beneath a very nice period dress. Grand Rosh did have very lovely dresses, he thought, admiring their penchant for décolletage that remained a bit scandalous even in the fifty-first century. They stand there for a moment, neither of them quite willing to give up the tranquility of the lovely gardens.
“Since you brought me here, I take it you’re not familiar with the Kon Dynasty of Grand Rosh?” she asks.
“Well, no,” he says, unsure of what she’s trying to say.
“I directed an excavation here once,” she says, again wistful. “Or, I was directing, but I nipped off to look for you on Tau Sixteen, and I never quite got around to going back. Will do someday.”
“That, er, sounds nice. Was it fun, working as an excavation director?”
“I don’t know that the word I’d use would be fun,” she laughs again, and he smiles. She hasn’t really laughed since she told him about the baby in Paris.
“River-” he begins, and then clamps his mouth tightly shut.
“Yes?” she asks. For a moment he is frozen, unable to decide if he should take the plunge and make himself sound like a moron and make her angry in the bargain, or try to pass it off as nothing.
He’s pretty sure she already knows it isn’t ‘nothing’, and besides, she’s well aware that he’s rubbish with feelings and things and she seems to love him anyway.
“Is there… is there something wrong? It’s just, you’ve been, you’ve been awfully quiet lately, and I know that the baby and stuff and it’s all really a lot to take in and I’m really very thrilled but I’m not sure you are and I’m trying to and I mean it really was an accident that I brought you here and-”
He cuts himself off because he’s about one hundred percent certain that every word that’s just left his mouth was nonsensical.
“Would you care to repeat that, sweetie?” she asks, her lips curling up into a familiar smirk.
“Er, I’m just worried about you. I think,” he says.
She looks away, out at the towering black cherry tree and the tiny, delicate white baneberry blossoming around its base.
“It’s a beautiful garden,” she says, slowly.
“River, would you please not change the subject,” he says, a little exasperated now.
“From what we know of the Kon, they were a peaceful society as a whole, except in the royal house. From the number of listed emperors and empresses and the span of time we know the dynasty to have lasted, we estimate that a new ruler took the throne every three to six months. One funerary fresco depicts an empress poisoning her sister. Their entire lives seemed to have revolved around having children to perpetuate the dynasty and trying to gain the throne for-”
“River, stop changing the subject,” he snaps, and instantly he regrets it. She isn’t doing anything wrong, except that she is, but really she isn’t… she is such a very frustrating woman!
She turns to face him almost violently, glaring. “I am bored!” she says, “More bored than I have ever been in my entire life! Did I or did I not mention that being pregnant does not make me invalid?! Alright, we should probably avoid the whole bit with running for our lives and such, but you do have a time machine in case anything goes terribly awry, and anyway no one does much running at all around here!”
Realization, a bit belated, reaches him. “You want to go investigate the Kon royal family.”
“If I remember the dates correctly, Yon Kam Shi is about to be dethroned by his aunt, Yon Li Tai. It’s one of the most mysterious transitions of power in Grand Rosh’s history, and I want to go,” she states, and she looks so much younger when she’s being all beseeching. Beseeching, excellent word. He wonders why, if she wants to go investigate the Kon Dynasty, she hasn’t simply gone already.
It strikes him, then, that she’s already come to terms with the danger in her-their-life, and she’s willing to risk it. She’s asking him if he’s willing to risk it as well, even this tiny risk of endangering the tiny life they’ve created.
“Alright,” he says. He tries to sound appropriately resigned and wary, but he strongly suspects that he just sounds excited. Judging by the grin on her face, his suspicions are correct.
“Come on, let’s go,” she says, grabbing his hand and leading him along, “and maybe after that we could go finish the dig at Grand Rosh. I know you’re not much for archaeology, sweetie,” she bats her eyelashes up at him, “but it’s really not so bad. Besides, it has to be more interesting than loitering around the TARDIS for another unknown number of months.”
“Six,” he says.
“Four,” she says. “Or you’ll pay for it, trust me.”
She tugs him off towards the grand marble palace in the distance, and he’s not entirely sure if she’s smiling with vindictive glee at the thought of making him pay, or because she’s genuinely excited again.
A/N: A little more lighthearted this time, sort of, I think?
Disclaimer: The BBC owns the rights to Doctor Who and related characters and such, etc., no profit is being made from this work of fanfiction.
Author:
bendingwind
Notes: [Doctor Who | T/PG-13 | 1400 words]
Characters: River/Doctor
Summary: He has known from the beginning, and yet he never saw it coming. Based on the following photomanip by
aheartthen
[ Part 1 | Part 2 | part 3]
They’re sitting by a pond in the Imperial Gardens of Grand Rosh, dipping their toes in the water. He’s about ninety percent certain there won’t be any dangerous alien incursions in the next fifty years, and about forty percent certain that the Imperial Guards don’t have a scheduled patrol through this sector of the garden today. Or maybe it’s closer to thirty-five percent.
Either way, he feels that the odds are unusually good that they won’t have to do any running for their lives, which was the general idea. River’s sitting next to him, tracing rippling patterns through the water with her bare feet.
“Writing a note?” he asks her quietly, as the black cherry trees rustle in the breeze.
“No, just shapes.” She sounds, to his surprise, rather sad. He knows she’s sick of the TARDIS, because he is as well-endless it may be, and forests and skies it has aplenty, but it’s not quite the same as truly standing on the surface of a planet.
“Would… would you rather go somewhere else?” he asks, hesitantly. She’s still keeping her mind tightly closed off. He reaches over and, after a moment, places his hand over hers on the warm sand.
“These are proper black cherries, from Earth,” she says, either distracting him or answering his question. It’s so very hard to tell sometimes. “Eat enough, crunch down on the seeds and savor the burnt-almond scent, and you’re dead.”
“Er,” he says, very cleverly.
“Over there they’ve got flowering monkshood and white baneberry, both able to induce death in less than a day. There’s some white snakeroot by the small waterfall. In fact, my love, every single plant in this garden except the grass is poisonous, and I’m not entirely sure about the grass.”
“Oh.” He does his best to look properly abashed.
She sighs, and then laughs. “Well, you would accidentally bring us to a garden full of deadly plants when we agreed to find somewhere safe to step out for a bit.”
“I didn’t mean to,” he says, apologetically. He really had tried, this time.
“We’re never going to be able to live a completely safe life, are we?” she asks, and now she sounds wistful.
“Probably not,” he agrees, because he lies a lot, but he’s never been very good at it, and anyway she’s too bright to have believed anything else.
“We should go back to the TARDIS,” she says, and he begins to stand.
“I guess we should,” he agrees, regretfully. He really had been enjoying the nice, breezy, guard-free garden. In fact he estimated that he could have sat there for another half hour or so before the desire to actively seek out something more interesting set in.
He reaches down a hand to help her up, and she scowls at him.
“Remember that speech we had about me being pregnant, not an invalid?” she asks. “I cited all those nice fictional references that use that exact phrase and everything.”
“Er, yes,” he says, quickly stuffing his hands in his pockets. He still isn’t entirely sure what to do with the tired, quiet River she’s become, even after traveling with her for a month.
She stands on her own, the swell of her stomach only slightly visible beneath a very nice period dress. Grand Rosh did have very lovely dresses, he thought, admiring their penchant for décolletage that remained a bit scandalous even in the fifty-first century. They stand there for a moment, neither of them quite willing to give up the tranquility of the lovely gardens.
“Since you brought me here, I take it you’re not familiar with the Kon Dynasty of Grand Rosh?” she asks.
“Well, no,” he says, unsure of what she’s trying to say.
“I directed an excavation here once,” she says, again wistful. “Or, I was directing, but I nipped off to look for you on Tau Sixteen, and I never quite got around to going back. Will do someday.”
“That, er, sounds nice. Was it fun, working as an excavation director?”
“I don’t know that the word I’d use would be fun,” she laughs again, and he smiles. She hasn’t really laughed since she told him about the baby in Paris.
“River-” he begins, and then clamps his mouth tightly shut.
“Yes?” she asks. For a moment he is frozen, unable to decide if he should take the plunge and make himself sound like a moron and make her angry in the bargain, or try to pass it off as nothing.
He’s pretty sure she already knows it isn’t ‘nothing’, and besides, she’s well aware that he’s rubbish with feelings and things and she seems to love him anyway.
“Is there… is there something wrong? It’s just, you’ve been, you’ve been awfully quiet lately, and I know that the baby and stuff and it’s all really a lot to take in and I’m really very thrilled but I’m not sure you are and I’m trying to and I mean it really was an accident that I brought you here and-”
He cuts himself off because he’s about one hundred percent certain that every word that’s just left his mouth was nonsensical.
“Would you care to repeat that, sweetie?” she asks, her lips curling up into a familiar smirk.
“Er, I’m just worried about you. I think,” he says.
She looks away, out at the towering black cherry tree and the tiny, delicate white baneberry blossoming around its base.
“It’s a beautiful garden,” she says, slowly.
“River, would you please not change the subject,” he says, a little exasperated now.
“From what we know of the Kon, they were a peaceful society as a whole, except in the royal house. From the number of listed emperors and empresses and the span of time we know the dynasty to have lasted, we estimate that a new ruler took the throne every three to six months. One funerary fresco depicts an empress poisoning her sister. Their entire lives seemed to have revolved around having children to perpetuate the dynasty and trying to gain the throne for-”
“River, stop changing the subject,” he snaps, and instantly he regrets it. She isn’t doing anything wrong, except that she is, but really she isn’t… she is such a very frustrating woman!
She turns to face him almost violently, glaring. “I am bored!” she says, “More bored than I have ever been in my entire life! Did I or did I not mention that being pregnant does not make me invalid?! Alright, we should probably avoid the whole bit with running for our lives and such, but you do have a time machine in case anything goes terribly awry, and anyway no one does much running at all around here!”
Realization, a bit belated, reaches him. “You want to go investigate the Kon royal family.”
“If I remember the dates correctly, Yon Kam Shi is about to be dethroned by his aunt, Yon Li Tai. It’s one of the most mysterious transitions of power in Grand Rosh’s history, and I want to go,” she states, and she looks so much younger when she’s being all beseeching. Beseeching, excellent word. He wonders why, if she wants to go investigate the Kon Dynasty, she hasn’t simply gone already.
It strikes him, then, that she’s already come to terms with the danger in her-their-life, and she’s willing to risk it. She’s asking him if he’s willing to risk it as well, even this tiny risk of endangering the tiny life they’ve created.
“Alright,” he says. He tries to sound appropriately resigned and wary, but he strongly suspects that he just sounds excited. Judging by the grin on her face, his suspicions are correct.
“Come on, let’s go,” she says, grabbing his hand and leading him along, “and maybe after that we could go finish the dig at Grand Rosh. I know you’re not much for archaeology, sweetie,” she bats her eyelashes up at him, “but it’s really not so bad. Besides, it has to be more interesting than loitering around the TARDIS for another unknown number of months.”
“Six,” he says.
“Four,” she says. “Or you’ll pay for it, trust me.”
She tugs him off towards the grand marble palace in the distance, and he’s not entirely sure if she’s smiling with vindictive glee at the thought of making him pay, or because she’s genuinely excited again.
A/N: A little more lighthearted this time, sort of, I think?
Disclaimer: The BBC owns the rights to Doctor Who and related characters and such, etc., no profit is being made from this work of fanfiction.