We've Got Mail! - (11th Doctor, River Song)
Title: We've Got Mail!
Author: betawho
Rating: PG
Characters: 11th Doctor, River Song, Amy, Rory
Words: 1387
Summary: Amy and Rory are gone, but Time Lords are clever, and there's always a way to keep in touch...
“We’ve got mail!” River caroled as she bounced into the Tardis, waving a handful of heavy vellum envelopes.
“Give me!” the Doctor ran down the Tardis stairs and snatched half the envelopes from River’s grasp, scattering others across the entryway floor.
River didn’t protest, she was as eager as he was to discover the contents.
They both sat down right there on the entryway floor and started opening envelopes.
The Doctor slit open a thick square envelope with his pinkie and pulled out the sheaf of papers inside. He quickly unfolded them.
“Hello, Raggedy Man, What’s up?”
Tears started in his eyes at that irreverent greeting, he grinned fit to bust and blinked his eyes clear.
“We got your last letter,” Amy continued. “Sounds like you put my daughter through the ringer. Really, you should know better than to take River to the planet of Dress Designers then not give her time to buy anything. That’s just cruel. :D” He grinned at the little smiley face Amy had written at the end of the sentence. 1940’s US postage letters with emoticons in them. He loved it. Only his Amelia...
“Oh, good on you, Dad!” River suddenly exclaimed.
“What? What?” the Doctor looked up eagerly.
River turned around a large, glossy black and white photograph, showing Rory standing there, a bit chunkier, a bit older, wearing a white lab coat, a black tie, a buzz cut, and a huge grin. Amy hanging off of him like a groupie, beaming up at him.
“Dad finally got his MD!” River beamed like it was her own doctorate. Her cheeks were so round from the grin that they must hurt. She practically glowed.
The Doctor took the picture and stared down at it. Amy was in a conservative cut suit dress, cut just a little too short, and her straight hair pulled back and bobbed to curl under at the ends.
They looked like a successful, happy young couple. He had to admit, Rory looked good in that doctor’s coat. It suited him.
River turned the photo back around and looked down at her parents proudly.
“We should get a frame for that,” the Doctor said.
“Oh, I will.”
The way she said it reminded him he’d better have the Tardis make a copy for him, maybe a couple, since River had more than one home other than the Tardis.
“What did yours say?” River asked, setting the photo aside and picking up another letter.
“Oh,” he waved the sheets of paper at her, “apparently I’m a bad man for taking you to Cresiden 4 and not allowing you to buy any dresses.”
“Well, you are!” She pouted adorably at him. “All that velvet and silk and you had us chasing after a manky old lizard. Really, it’s too, too bad of you, Sweetie. And that gold lame number would have looked fabulous on me.”
He could hear now what that letter must have sounded like to Amy. She’d probably rolled all over the floor laughing.
He grinned. He ignored the wringing of his hearts and concentrated on the joy. It had been a stroke of genius from River to set up that post office box in Paris. They may not be able to see Amy and Rory ever again. (He forced his hearts to shut up and stop whining.) But that didn’t mean they had to lose all contact.
He slit open the top of what looked like a birthday card, and jumped when a two-dimensional pasteboard clown face sprang out at him.
River fell over laughing.
He glared down at her, her golden curls spilled over the Tardis floor.
“You knew that was going to happen!” he accused. His hearts beating a mile a minute.
She giggled at him and covered her mouth with one hand, her eyes sparkling at him.
He “humphed” and ignored her. He turned back to see a garishly painted birthday card covered in cavorting clowns, the one with the most hideous smile bobbing forward on a spring neck.
“Happy Birthday to my favorite son-in-law! Have fun clowning around!” They ‘d signed it “The Legs” and “The Nose.” And had drawn in pencil sketches of ringed planets and suns and stars behind the clowns. 9012 had been drawn in in big overblown balloon letters, complete with little tied off tails, in Amy’s distinctive drawing style.
The Doctor’s lip wibbled. And he sniffled. Just a little bit. But his eyes gleamed behind the tears.
“You okay, Sweetie?” River asked softly.
He turned the card around to show her, the clown head bobbling on the end of its spring. He smiled wobbly at her, but sincere.
She smiled at the card. But didn’t give it much notice, studying his face. “You sure you want to continue?” she asked, waving around at all the unopened letters.
“Of course,” he said, ignoring his own tears. Ignoring the tickly trickle down his cheek. He leaned sideways and raked the strewn letters toward them, into a pile between them as they sat Indian style on the floor.
The letters were a bit random, as they always were, they covered a period of a few years, since it was always a while before they managed to get back to check their post office box.
Some letters were sad and lengthy, pouring out their homesickness and their struggles to adapt to WWII era New York. Both the Doctor and River pulled out big pads of yellow note paper and wrote back letters, (noting the date at the top,) filled with encouragement, love, advice, and time travel tips. They’d travel around to post the letters back so that Amy and Rory would get them only a day or two after their original letters were sent. In time for the advice or cash or encouragement to help.
More than a few tears were shed, as they always were. And more than a few laughs.
They both screamed, and wrote quick letters demanding autographed copies when Amy wrote that she’d published her first children’s book. River made a note on her handheld computer to rent a bigger post office box to handle the size of the books.
The Doctor wrote a long, thoughtful letter, without telling River its contents. She didn’t ask. She knew the Doctor and Rory had developed a deeper relationship as Rory realized he could pour out his uncertainties and fears to the distant Time Lord. Both as two young husbands, and as a younger man to a much more experienced older man.
River was glad to see it. But she didn’t interfere. She didn’t read the letters, out of respect for both men who meant so much to her, father and husband. But she knew that sometimes the letters left the Doctor very thoughtful.
River opened up the last letter, a nice fat one, and pulled out the contents. They included a tiny, Christmas wrapped parcel. She glanced at the letter casually as she noted the Doctor licking his envelope and pressing it closed on his letter to Rory.
She brought her attention back to the package. They were always sending little presents back and forth. Amy’s first disastrous attempts at tatting. Their used ticket stubs for having gone to see the first showing of “Gone with the Wind,” and sunflower seeds from their first successful Victory Garden.
River tore the package open without thinking, still concentrating on looking at the Doctor out of the corner of her eye, as he carefully wrote out Amy and Rory’s address on the envelope in his beautiful handwriting.
Something soft fell into her lap. She looked down, then stared. She quickly scrabbled for the letter and hurriedly scanned it.
“Sweetie?”
The Doctor looked up, surprised by the constrained sound of River’s voice. He hoped his advice to Rory would help, he never knew quite what to....
He saw the look on River’s face, she was practically glowing.
She held up two tiny crocheted socks. They were as tiny as their thumbs. They had a ruffle. They were pink.
The Doctor’s jaw dropped open. “But, but, Tony’s a boy.”
River nodded, eyes shining with unshed tears, smiling so hard her face was red, her voice squeaked. “They didn’t adopt this time.”
They both screamed and lunged for each other. They hugged furiously, dancing on their knees.
“We’re grandparents!”
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Author: betawho
Rating: PG
Characters: 11th Doctor, River Song, Amy, Rory
Words: 1387
Summary: Amy and Rory are gone, but Time Lords are clever, and there's always a way to keep in touch...
“We’ve got mail!” River caroled as she bounced into the Tardis, waving a handful of heavy vellum envelopes.
“Give me!” the Doctor ran down the Tardis stairs and snatched half the envelopes from River’s grasp, scattering others across the entryway floor.
River didn’t protest, she was as eager as he was to discover the contents.
They both sat down right there on the entryway floor and started opening envelopes.
The Doctor slit open a thick square envelope with his pinkie and pulled out the sheaf of papers inside. He quickly unfolded them.
“Hello, Raggedy Man, What’s up?”
Tears started in his eyes at that irreverent greeting, he grinned fit to bust and blinked his eyes clear.
“We got your last letter,” Amy continued. “Sounds like you put my daughter through the ringer. Really, you should know better than to take River to the planet of Dress Designers then not give her time to buy anything. That’s just cruel. :D” He grinned at the little smiley face Amy had written at the end of the sentence. 1940’s US postage letters with emoticons in them. He loved it. Only his Amelia...
“Oh, good on you, Dad!” River suddenly exclaimed.
“What? What?” the Doctor looked up eagerly.
River turned around a large, glossy black and white photograph, showing Rory standing there, a bit chunkier, a bit older, wearing a white lab coat, a black tie, a buzz cut, and a huge grin. Amy hanging off of him like a groupie, beaming up at him.
“Dad finally got his MD!” River beamed like it was her own doctorate. Her cheeks were so round from the grin that they must hurt. She practically glowed.
The Doctor took the picture and stared down at it. Amy was in a conservative cut suit dress, cut just a little too short, and her straight hair pulled back and bobbed to curl under at the ends.
They looked like a successful, happy young couple. He had to admit, Rory looked good in that doctor’s coat. It suited him.
River turned the photo back around and looked down at her parents proudly.
“We should get a frame for that,” the Doctor said.
“Oh, I will.”
The way she said it reminded him he’d better have the Tardis make a copy for him, maybe a couple, since River had more than one home other than the Tardis.
“What did yours say?” River asked, setting the photo aside and picking up another letter.
“Oh,” he waved the sheets of paper at her, “apparently I’m a bad man for taking you to Cresiden 4 and not allowing you to buy any dresses.”
“Well, you are!” She pouted adorably at him. “All that velvet and silk and you had us chasing after a manky old lizard. Really, it’s too, too bad of you, Sweetie. And that gold lame number would have looked fabulous on me.”
He could hear now what that letter must have sounded like to Amy. She’d probably rolled all over the floor laughing.
He grinned. He ignored the wringing of his hearts and concentrated on the joy. It had been a stroke of genius from River to set up that post office box in Paris. They may not be able to see Amy and Rory ever again. (He forced his hearts to shut up and stop whining.) But that didn’t mean they had to lose all contact.
He slit open the top of what looked like a birthday card, and jumped when a two-dimensional pasteboard clown face sprang out at him.
River fell over laughing.
He glared down at her, her golden curls spilled over the Tardis floor.
“You knew that was going to happen!” he accused. His hearts beating a mile a minute.
She giggled at him and covered her mouth with one hand, her eyes sparkling at him.
He “humphed” and ignored her. He turned back to see a garishly painted birthday card covered in cavorting clowns, the one with the most hideous smile bobbing forward on a spring neck.
“Happy Birthday to my favorite son-in-law! Have fun clowning around!” They ‘d signed it “The Legs” and “The Nose.” And had drawn in pencil sketches of ringed planets and suns and stars behind the clowns. 9012 had been drawn in in big overblown balloon letters, complete with little tied off tails, in Amy’s distinctive drawing style.
The Doctor’s lip wibbled. And he sniffled. Just a little bit. But his eyes gleamed behind the tears.
“You okay, Sweetie?” River asked softly.
He turned the card around to show her, the clown head bobbling on the end of its spring. He smiled wobbly at her, but sincere.
She smiled at the card. But didn’t give it much notice, studying his face. “You sure you want to continue?” she asked, waving around at all the unopened letters.
“Of course,” he said, ignoring his own tears. Ignoring the tickly trickle down his cheek. He leaned sideways and raked the strewn letters toward them, into a pile between them as they sat Indian style on the floor.
The letters were a bit random, as they always were, they covered a period of a few years, since it was always a while before they managed to get back to check their post office box.
Some letters were sad and lengthy, pouring out their homesickness and their struggles to adapt to WWII era New York. Both the Doctor and River pulled out big pads of yellow note paper and wrote back letters, (noting the date at the top,) filled with encouragement, love, advice, and time travel tips. They’d travel around to post the letters back so that Amy and Rory would get them only a day or two after their original letters were sent. In time for the advice or cash or encouragement to help.
More than a few tears were shed, as they always were. And more than a few laughs.
They both screamed, and wrote quick letters demanding autographed copies when Amy wrote that she’d published her first children’s book. River made a note on her handheld computer to rent a bigger post office box to handle the size of the books.
The Doctor wrote a long, thoughtful letter, without telling River its contents. She didn’t ask. She knew the Doctor and Rory had developed a deeper relationship as Rory realized he could pour out his uncertainties and fears to the distant Time Lord. Both as two young husbands, and as a younger man to a much more experienced older man.
River was glad to see it. But she didn’t interfere. She didn’t read the letters, out of respect for both men who meant so much to her, father and husband. But she knew that sometimes the letters left the Doctor very thoughtful.
River opened up the last letter, a nice fat one, and pulled out the contents. They included a tiny, Christmas wrapped parcel. She glanced at the letter casually as she noted the Doctor licking his envelope and pressing it closed on his letter to Rory.
She brought her attention back to the package. They were always sending little presents back and forth. Amy’s first disastrous attempts at tatting. Their used ticket stubs for having gone to see the first showing of “Gone with the Wind,” and sunflower seeds from their first successful Victory Garden.
River tore the package open without thinking, still concentrating on looking at the Doctor out of the corner of her eye, as he carefully wrote out Amy and Rory’s address on the envelope in his beautiful handwriting.
Something soft fell into her lap. She looked down, then stared. She quickly scrabbled for the letter and hurriedly scanned it.
“Sweetie?”
The Doctor looked up, surprised by the constrained sound of River’s voice. He hoped his advice to Rory would help, he never knew quite what to....
He saw the look on River’s face, she was practically glowing.
She held up two tiny crocheted socks. They were as tiny as their thumbs. They had a ruffle. They were pink.
The Doctor’s jaw dropped open. “But, but, Tony’s a boy.”
River nodded, eyes shining with unshed tears, smiling so hard her face was red, her voice squeaked. “They didn’t adopt this time.”
They both screamed and lunged for each other. They hugged furiously, dancing on their knees.
“We’re grandparents!”
Hits Tracking