There was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. No, she didn't like that. Not the recognition that she was following someone else's order, someone else's revenge.
River knew she was acting out another person's war, but that was because no one else could. She was the only one strong enough, clever enough, and although she didn't yet know it, the one that would hurt the Doctor the most.
Because she was the daughter of two of his beloved companions, kidnapped, brainwashed, moulded into a killer. She was a walking failure to him.
"Everybody knows what you are," said River, a slight quake in her tone and she was quick to steel it. She leant across the table, drumming her courage up once more. "You're the destroyer of worlds, Doctor," she said, her voice low and sharp, spoken with gritty determination and anger. "You deserve this. And you know you deserve it, that's why you're accepting it."
He didn't deny it, not any of it. He couldn't. Perhaps that made it harder. Yes, he destroyed where he meant to save, he turned people into warriors, and in front of him was the ultimate proof of that. It didn't matter that he helped sometimes; didn't matter that that was all he ever meant to do. The fact was he ran, and the reason he ran? From himself. From his own past.
And he knew it.
"You seem to think you know a lot about why I do things," he said quietly. "But you tell me, River Song. You tell me, what sort of answer is death? What sort of message. Who's point does it prove?"
"What else can stop you?" asked River, her eyes locked on his, a contradiction of all their own as they blazed hot and cold. "No prison can hold you, no person can convince you. Death is the only way to stop you. You, Doctor, you can't even stop yourself. Even when you think you're harming no one, you're destroying people's lives."
"Don't apologise to me," she snapped coldly. "I don't care about you."
River had spent her entire life being led to this very moment. She had been brought up under Kovarian's regime. She had never experienced the life a child should have, instead shipped from planet to planet, raised and educated by various aliens who taught her ways to bring down the Doctor. She resented him for that. Resented the fact he had driven these civilisations to such drastic measures, to pin all their hopes on her. She couldn't fail, because then she wouldn't be free.
How things change, he thought. How this woman, so full of hatred for him, could become the woman he knew she would. A task that it seemed to him was all on his shoulders. To turn her around. To put her on the right path.
An impossible task.
Oh but then he did love the impossible. It was always so much more fun when it was acheieved.
"What have they told you?" he said. "Why are you doing this? And don't tell me it's just because of what you've 'learned' about me. You're stronger than that and I won't have it."
"Don't talk like you know me," said River indignantly, unaware that in this time of his life, the Doctor knew almost everything about her. Every part of her, good and bad. He had taken it, studied it, and put her back together again.
"Actually I know you rather well. Probably better than you know yourself, but that's neither here nor there at the moment."
He dismissed it as easily as he said it, and his gaze remained firm and level on her.
"Do you want to know a secret, River?" he asked, and didn't give her time to respond before he continued. "I don't have the answer to this. I don't have a way out."
River watched him, feeling uncertainty flare through her like a supernova. That glimmer of hesitation had transformed into something far more substantial. What was he doing to her? How was he unravelling the determination she had been crafted with from a very early age?
"This is the only way out," she said, horrified to find her voice was as unsteady as her breathing.
He was right. There were people watching, listening, waiting for her to make her move or for him to flee.
"It's everyone, Doctor," she then said faintly, not knowing why she was admitting such a fact to him.
It was everybody in this establishment, every patron, every server, even the man who had served him his tea.
The burning anger had gone from her eyes, replaced with a drenching plea that had begged him for help many years ago when she was trapped in the Silence's spacesuit.
He shot a disapproving glance at the tea in front of him. Everyone. Well, disgusting stuff. He should have known.
"Right. Well."
He tapped his fingers against the table and pushed himself up to standing. Nobody would do anything, he knew that. They couldn't possibly risk it, or the whole thing would just fall apart.
"Shall we?" he said with a cheery grin in her direction, before adding in a whisper, "Take your weapon out and train it on me as we walk."
River felt her heart gallop into an impossible pace. She was taking orders of this man now? Apparently she was, because she slowly stood, drawing the gun from her holster and pointing it at him. How could he believe that she wasn't going to shoot him? Why wasn't she shooting him? It was a perfect moment, he was defenceless. She could end everything right here.
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River knew she was acting out another person's war, but that was because no one else could. She was the only one strong enough, clever enough, and although she didn't yet know it, the one that would hurt the Doctor the most.
Because she was the daughter of two of his beloved companions, kidnapped, brainwashed, moulded into a killer. She was a walking failure to him.
"Everybody knows what you are," said River, a slight quake in her tone and she was quick to steel it. She leant across the table, drumming her courage up once more. "You're the destroyer of worlds, Doctor," she said, her voice low and sharp, spoken with gritty determination and anger. "You deserve this. And you know you deserve it, that's why you're accepting it."
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And he knew it.
"You seem to think you know a lot about why I do things," he said quietly. "But you tell me, River Song. You tell me, what sort of answer is death? What sort of message. Who's point does it prove?"
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He looked back at her. He expected this would hurt; to be faced with the utter truth of his mistakes. But it was like a cold blade in his hearts.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I failed you."
And he would, now and always. She existed as who she was because of him. Unique in every way. And she would live and die her life because of him.
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River had spent her entire life being led to this very moment. She had been brought up under Kovarian's regime. She had never experienced the life a child should have, instead shipped from planet to planet, raised and educated by various aliens who taught her ways to bring down the Doctor. She resented him for that. Resented the fact he had driven these civilisations to such drastic measures, to pin all their hopes on her. She couldn't fail, because then she wouldn't be free.
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An impossible task.
Oh but then he did love the impossible. It was always so much more fun when it was acheieved.
"What have they told you?" he said. "Why are you doing this? And don't tell me it's just because of what you've 'learned' about me. You're stronger than that and I won't have it."
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He dismissed it as easily as he said it, and his gaze remained firm and level on her.
"Do you want to know a secret, River?" he asked, and didn't give her time to respond before he continued. "I don't have the answer to this. I don't have a way out."
He paused.
"But there's always a way out."
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"This is the only way out," she said, horrified to find her voice was as unsteady as her breathing.
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"How many?" he asked then. "Watching?"
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He glanced his eyes sideways before looking back to her.
"Would you prefer we had this conversation somewhere more private?"
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"It's everyone, Doctor," she then said faintly, not knowing why she was admitting such a fact to him.
It was everybody in this establishment, every patron, every server, even the man who had served him his tea.
The burning anger had gone from her eyes, replaced with a drenching plea that had begged him for help many years ago when she was trapped in the Silence's spacesuit.
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"Right. Well."
He tapped his fingers against the table and pushed himself up to standing. Nobody would do anything, he knew that. They couldn't possibly risk it, or the whole thing would just fall apart.
"Shall we?" he said with a cheery grin in her direction, before adding in a whisper, "Take your weapon out and train it on me as we walk."
Reply
Reply
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