Hope (1/1)
Title: Hope (1/1)
Rating: PG/Teen
Summary: This is a conversation that I really hope to see happening between the Doctor and Amy Pond, regarding the fate of River Song.
Disclaimer: No ownies, no profit.
The Doctor swallowed loudly. It was loud because it was not exactly a swallow; more the closest-he-could-manage-to-a-swallow-with-Amy-Pond’s-knee-hovering-between-his-legs-and-not-even-slightly-in-a-good-way. It was sort of a gulp. Like in the cartoons. He liked cartoons, he remembered now. They could be very funny. This wasn’t a funny situation.
“I am the girl who’s known you her whole life,” Amy growled.
She was growling and he was gulping. Ha ha.
This was not a funny situation.
“What’s more…” Amy was still talking. Well, growling. “What’s more, Doctor, I am that girl’s mother.”
That girl was River Song. River Song was scary enough to be Amy’s mother really. It was funny the way that she had so naturally become ‘that girl’ now - one of the universe’s lovely, sunny little quirks. Like lemonade.
“I’m thirsty,” the Doctor announced nervously. “Lemonade?”
“You’re avoiding the question,” retorted Amy immediately. She was still growling.
“Actually,” the Doctor pointed out nervously, “You haven’t asked a question. I would have to be very impressive indeed to avoid a question that hasn’t been asked. And while I am very impressive indeed, that’s still too impressive for me. Though I am impressive.”
One day, it would be nice to note that he wasn’t rambling. You know, when they announce in stories that ‘he was rambling’; one day, he would like the story of his life to announce that ‘he was being concise’.
Stories. Books. Story books. Bad.
This wasn’t a funny situation.
Amy was still looking at him. Looking at him with an expression that said, ‘I know much better than you. About this. About most things. Remember that one.’ While he did not appreciate the sentiment, he did appreciate what that look did to her eyebrows. It was the look that became even more concentrated on her daughter’s face and played even more havoc with the junior Pond’s eyebrows.
River. Story books. Bad.
“Well, Doctor?” asked Amy expectantly.
“Well what?” he replied, trying to ignore the way that her knee was hovering ever closer to the area he was most reluctant for it to impact with.
“Why is the library bad?”
“Nothing wrong with libraries,” the Doctor mused. “Very good places, libraries.”
Amy cocked an eyebrow. Clearly, her knowing-better-than-him expression had decided to grant her control of them again.
“Then why did you start choking on your Jammie Dodgers when River said she was going to the library?”
The Doctor was just trying to work out how to avoid the question now that it had indeed been asked, when Amy did something that broke his hearts. She pulled away from him.
She withdrew her knee and stepped back, a look of fear making her eyes as wide as saucers. It was no longer a look that said ‘I know better than you’. Now it was a look that said, ‘I don’t know anything. Not really. And right now, I need you to tell me that it’s all going to be okay, even though, even as I ask this, I know you can’t. You can’t always be my hero, can you?’ It was a look he saw a lot, and one that he had come to dread.
He bowed his head.
“The library is the first time I meet River,” he admitted finally.
Amy looked hard at him, expectant. He knew that he didn’t really need to say what was coming next, but she was going to make him do so anyway. She was going to make him, because if she had to feel it, feel that horror, he could damn well say it.
“And I watch her die in front of me.”
There was a very, very long silence after that during which, Amy’s eyes were like fractured stone struggling to stay whole. She was looking at him, and past him, and through him, all at once. She was holding him accountable, but all she could really see was the way that her daughter’s fabulous curls had rested so still on the pillow of her hospital bed, only months ago in her own timeline.
“Could she have regenerated?” she whispered eventually.
“No,” he replied. “That’s why…”
He stopped himself quickly, but she had already twitched, regarding him with a laser gaze.
“That’s why what?” she hissed.
“That’s why she stops me from doing what has to be done. Because no one could have regenerated out of that situation.”
The cracks in the stone were healing fast.
“She does it to save you.”
“Yes.”
“She seems to do that rather a lot.”
“Yes.”
She reached up and grabbed his bow-tie, pulling him ferociously towards where she stood, knee returning to its previous position. This time, she was wearing a look that he had never seen in her eyes before, though he didn’t need to recognize it to know that it was not really a look, but a wall. A wall that was being pulled tightly around the family Pond. A wall that he was quite definitely on the other side of. It was the wall that mothers build.
“Do you try and save her?” she demanded.
“Yes,” he replied hoarsely. “In a way, I manage it.”
“Explain.”
“I save her consciousness. She’s living in a dream world within a computer. Nothing can harm her, but she’s not alive.”
Amy’s grip tightened a notch.
“Can we get her out?”
“I don’t know.”
Another notch.
“Work it out. Quickly.”
Could he? The truth was, he’d been thinking long and hard about that question ever since he’d found out who River was. It wasn’t that she had been less important when she was a stranger, but rather that she had suddenly started to present a whole new realm of possibilities when she’d turned out to be part Time Lord. There might be…avenues that he hadn’t previously considered.
Amy was still slowly choking him.
“When River used her regeneration energy to save me, she imparted something of herself,” he explained. “There might be a way to extrapolate…”
He sighed heavily and that was when the wall started to crumble. All in one movement, Amy released her hold and folded weakly into his arms. She lay her head against his chest and listened to his double heartbeat, matching her breathing to his. He rested his hand against the silk of her hair and gently stroked it.
“If there is a way,” he murmured softly, “I will find it, Amy.”
She nodded into his shirt.
“Of course there’s a way,” she answered defiantly. “No dream world is big enough to contain River.”
They stayed that way for a moment or two, quiet and resolute. Then, someone who was neither of them cleared their throat around a bubble of laughter.
River was in the doorway.
“This must be what it’s like to find Mummy kissing Santa Claus,” she noted evenly, the grandmother of all smirks dancing about her lips and making her eyes crinkle up in a way that made the Doctor think more of sunrises than of crisps. Which was strange, because sunrises did not come crinkle-cut.
“We weren’t kissing!” he protested, reaching for Amy’s elbows and pushing her away.
Amy rolled her eyes, and that ‘I know better than you’ look was back, except now they were both wearing it and he couldn’t help but wonder which of them knew best of all, though he soon realized that they both knew best of all because they were mother and daughter and they were in a room with a very silly man and so that very silly man would always be the one who knew least even if the competition was only between the two of them and not the silly man at all…
Amy had crossed the room in the time that it had taken him to resolve all of this in his head, and now the Pond and the River were side by side, both sparkling in the light of sunrises that were not crisps.
“The Doctor was asking for my permission, actually,” Pond Sr. informed Pond Jr.
“What did he want permission for?” Pond Jr. asked Pond Sr.
The Doctor found it fascinating the way that they could converse with one another whilst both looking firmly in his direction, smirking.
“He wants to take you out on a date,” answered Amy.
“And what did you say?”
“I told him yes. If he gets a haircut. I’m not having some scruffy long-hair taking my daughter on a whistle-stop tour of time and space, thank you very much.”
River was laughing. And while the Doctor usually enjoyed watching that very, very much, he was not watching this time. He was watching Amelia Pond, the girl who waited, the mother of the woman who was constantly the life and the death of him.
Her eyes weren’t stone any more. No. In the face of the most impossible finality, they were filled past the brim with a hope that was overflowing and saturating a room that was already struggling to contain both a River and a Pond.
He liked that hope. It was one of the universe’s lovely, sunny little quirks. Like lemonade.
Rating: PG/Teen
Summary: This is a conversation that I really hope to see happening between the Doctor and Amy Pond, regarding the fate of River Song.
Disclaimer: No ownies, no profit.
The Doctor swallowed loudly. It was loud because it was not exactly a swallow; more the closest-he-could-manage-to-a-swallow-with-Amy-Pond’s-knee-hovering-between-his-legs-and-not-even-slightly-in-a-good-way. It was sort of a gulp. Like in the cartoons. He liked cartoons, he remembered now. They could be very funny. This wasn’t a funny situation.
“I am the girl who’s known you her whole life,” Amy growled.
She was growling and he was gulping. Ha ha.
This was not a funny situation.
“What’s more…” Amy was still talking. Well, growling. “What’s more, Doctor, I am that girl’s mother.”
That girl was River Song. River Song was scary enough to be Amy’s mother really. It was funny the way that she had so naturally become ‘that girl’ now - one of the universe’s lovely, sunny little quirks. Like lemonade.
“I’m thirsty,” the Doctor announced nervously. “Lemonade?”
“You’re avoiding the question,” retorted Amy immediately. She was still growling.
“Actually,” the Doctor pointed out nervously, “You haven’t asked a question. I would have to be very impressive indeed to avoid a question that hasn’t been asked. And while I am very impressive indeed, that’s still too impressive for me. Though I am impressive.”
One day, it would be nice to note that he wasn’t rambling. You know, when they announce in stories that ‘he was rambling’; one day, he would like the story of his life to announce that ‘he was being concise’.
Stories. Books. Story books. Bad.
This wasn’t a funny situation.
Amy was still looking at him. Looking at him with an expression that said, ‘I know much better than you. About this. About most things. Remember that one.’ While he did not appreciate the sentiment, he did appreciate what that look did to her eyebrows. It was the look that became even more concentrated on her daughter’s face and played even more havoc with the junior Pond’s eyebrows.
River. Story books. Bad.
“Well, Doctor?” asked Amy expectantly.
“Well what?” he replied, trying to ignore the way that her knee was hovering ever closer to the area he was most reluctant for it to impact with.
“Why is the library bad?”
“Nothing wrong with libraries,” the Doctor mused. “Very good places, libraries.”
Amy cocked an eyebrow. Clearly, her knowing-better-than-him expression had decided to grant her control of them again.
“Then why did you start choking on your Jammie Dodgers when River said she was going to the library?”
The Doctor was just trying to work out how to avoid the question now that it had indeed been asked, when Amy did something that broke his hearts. She pulled away from him.
She withdrew her knee and stepped back, a look of fear making her eyes as wide as saucers. It was no longer a look that said ‘I know better than you’. Now it was a look that said, ‘I don’t know anything. Not really. And right now, I need you to tell me that it’s all going to be okay, even though, even as I ask this, I know you can’t. You can’t always be my hero, can you?’ It was a look he saw a lot, and one that he had come to dread.
He bowed his head.
“The library is the first time I meet River,” he admitted finally.
Amy looked hard at him, expectant. He knew that he didn’t really need to say what was coming next, but she was going to make him do so anyway. She was going to make him, because if she had to feel it, feel that horror, he could damn well say it.
“And I watch her die in front of me.”
There was a very, very long silence after that during which, Amy’s eyes were like fractured stone struggling to stay whole. She was looking at him, and past him, and through him, all at once. She was holding him accountable, but all she could really see was the way that her daughter’s fabulous curls had rested so still on the pillow of her hospital bed, only months ago in her own timeline.
“Could she have regenerated?” she whispered eventually.
“No,” he replied. “That’s why…”
He stopped himself quickly, but she had already twitched, regarding him with a laser gaze.
“That’s why what?” she hissed.
“That’s why she stops me from doing what has to be done. Because no one could have regenerated out of that situation.”
The cracks in the stone were healing fast.
“She does it to save you.”
“Yes.”
“She seems to do that rather a lot.”
“Yes.”
She reached up and grabbed his bow-tie, pulling him ferociously towards where she stood, knee returning to its previous position. This time, she was wearing a look that he had never seen in her eyes before, though he didn’t need to recognize it to know that it was not really a look, but a wall. A wall that was being pulled tightly around the family Pond. A wall that he was quite definitely on the other side of. It was the wall that mothers build.
“Do you try and save her?” she demanded.
“Yes,” he replied hoarsely. “In a way, I manage it.”
“Explain.”
“I save her consciousness. She’s living in a dream world within a computer. Nothing can harm her, but she’s not alive.”
Amy’s grip tightened a notch.
“Can we get her out?”
“I don’t know.”
Another notch.
“Work it out. Quickly.”
Could he? The truth was, he’d been thinking long and hard about that question ever since he’d found out who River was. It wasn’t that she had been less important when she was a stranger, but rather that she had suddenly started to present a whole new realm of possibilities when she’d turned out to be part Time Lord. There might be…avenues that he hadn’t previously considered.
Amy was still slowly choking him.
“When River used her regeneration energy to save me, she imparted something of herself,” he explained. “There might be a way to extrapolate…”
He sighed heavily and that was when the wall started to crumble. All in one movement, Amy released her hold and folded weakly into his arms. She lay her head against his chest and listened to his double heartbeat, matching her breathing to his. He rested his hand against the silk of her hair and gently stroked it.
“If there is a way,” he murmured softly, “I will find it, Amy.”
She nodded into his shirt.
“Of course there’s a way,” she answered defiantly. “No dream world is big enough to contain River.”
They stayed that way for a moment or two, quiet and resolute. Then, someone who was neither of them cleared their throat around a bubble of laughter.
River was in the doorway.
“This must be what it’s like to find Mummy kissing Santa Claus,” she noted evenly, the grandmother of all smirks dancing about her lips and making her eyes crinkle up in a way that made the Doctor think more of sunrises than of crisps. Which was strange, because sunrises did not come crinkle-cut.
“We weren’t kissing!” he protested, reaching for Amy’s elbows and pushing her away.
Amy rolled her eyes, and that ‘I know better than you’ look was back, except now they were both wearing it and he couldn’t help but wonder which of them knew best of all, though he soon realized that they both knew best of all because they were mother and daughter and they were in a room with a very silly man and so that very silly man would always be the one who knew least even if the competition was only between the two of them and not the silly man at all…
Amy had crossed the room in the time that it had taken him to resolve all of this in his head, and now the Pond and the River were side by side, both sparkling in the light of sunrises that were not crisps.
“The Doctor was asking for my permission, actually,” Pond Sr. informed Pond Jr.
“What did he want permission for?” Pond Jr. asked Pond Sr.
The Doctor found it fascinating the way that they could converse with one another whilst both looking firmly in his direction, smirking.
“He wants to take you out on a date,” answered Amy.
“And what did you say?”
“I told him yes. If he gets a haircut. I’m not having some scruffy long-hair taking my daughter on a whistle-stop tour of time and space, thank you very much.”
River was laughing. And while the Doctor usually enjoyed watching that very, very much, he was not watching this time. He was watching Amelia Pond, the girl who waited, the mother of the woman who was constantly the life and the death of him.
Her eyes weren’t stone any more. No. In the face of the most impossible finality, they were filled past the brim with a hope that was overflowing and saturating a room that was already struggling to contain both a River and a Pond.
He liked that hope. It was one of the universe’s lovely, sunny little quirks. Like lemonade.