Stocking Stuffers (2/2)
Title: Stocking Stuffers (2/2)
Author: penguinspy42
Summary: A collection of short Christmas-themed stories with the Doctor, River, Amy, and Rory.
Rating: PG
Characters: Eleventh Doctor, River Song, Amy Pond, Rory Williams
The Endless Gift
The Doctor led River into the library, careful to keep her eyes covered with his hands. Once he had her in the perfect spot, he yanked his hands away and exclaimed, “Surprise!”
River’s eyes fell on a giant package about the size of a fridge, standing next to the Christmas tree. It was wrapped in brilliant blue foil and covered in dozens of bows of every shape, size, and color. “Sweetie, whatever is in there, I really don’t think I’ll have room for it in my cell.”
“Oh, I think you will. Hurry! Open it!”
“Went a bit crazy with the bows, did you?” River asked as she circled the box and plucked them off one by one.
“Well, I couldn’t decide which one I liked,” he replied casually with a shrug. “So I used them all.”
Once the paper was bare of its adornments, she tore it off revealing a plain brown box. She pulled it over so it was resting on one of its long sides and found that it was surprisingly light for its size. After opening the flaps on one end, she discovered another wrapped gift, just barely smaller than the outer box.
“Open it!” the Doctor exclaimed, with even more enthusiasm than before.
With every layer River removed, the package shrunk while the Doctor’s delight grew. Each subsequent box was wrapped with different paper in everything from classic imagery like snowflakes and Christmas trees to designs with various cartoon characters. She swore that some of the medium to small boxes were actually bigger on the inside because the package she removed from them seemed to be the same size or larger than its original container.
An hour and several paper cuts later, River finally came to a tiny box about the size a ring would come in from a jeweler. She glanced up at the Doctor who was clapping and bouncing on the spot with a giant grin on his face. It was hard to be grumpy when he was so over-the-top excited.
River opened the lid of the box to find a dull metal key attached to a bright twisted silver chain. “It’s a key.”
“Yes! Exactly! A key,” he practically giggled. “A TARDIS key! To my TARDIS. To our TARDIS.”
Her eyes dropped to the key. What just moments before was an old piece of metal now was one of the most precious items she ever held. “Doctor, I can’t take this,” she said, shoving the key into his hand.
“’Course you can. I want you to. Besides, I’ve got more than one. The old girl will make me as many as I need, and she wants you to have it too. Plus, you need a home. Stormcage is no home. So this can be your home,” the Doctor said as he moved behind her, draping the chain around her neck and fastening it. He leaned forward, brushed her hair behind her ear and whispered, “Well, if you’d like it to be your home, anyway.”
River turned, slipping her hands underneath his coat and around his waist. She rested her head against his shoulder and replied, “Of course I would, my love. It’s the greatest gift you could ever give me.”
¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤
Chestnut Roast
“An old fashioned Christmas, just for you, dear,” the Doctor said, scooting closer to River and slipping an arm around her waist. “What’s better for that than chestnuts roasting over an open fire? And these are extra special. I got them from a planet that is known for producing the highest quality nuts in the universe. ”
“You must’ve felt right at home there,” River teased with a smirk.
Before the Doctor could respond, a high-pitched whine like a poorly tuned violin pierced the air, its source the covered roasting pan over the flames.
“Just steam escaping,” the Doctor said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
The sound happened again, but with a bit of a growl mixed in this time. The Doctor pulled the pan from the fire with a heavy towel and carefully lifted the lid. About dozen blurs about the size of small bats zipped out and dispersed themselves around the cavernous library.
The Doctor grabbed the empty package and studied it. “OH! Ooh. This isn’t good. No, very not good at all. See, the package is smudged and ah, their word for ‘nut’ is very close to ‘egg’ but it really did look very much like the word for ‘nut’ when I was at the market, though they did seem to be a bit overpriced for chestnuts, also I thought it odd that they added a ‘le’ to the end of ‘chest’ but just a mistake, I fig--”
“Chestle?” River interrupted. “Doctor, what is a chestle?”
“Well,” he paused to consider the question. “I want you to think of a cute fuzzy baby duckling about the size of a mouse. Have you got that?”
River nodded skeptically.
“Now add bigger wings, a longer tail, and cute tiny needle sharp teeth. Oh, also the occasional adorable little puff of smoke when they sneeze.”
“Are you saying they’re dragons?”
“Well, no, they’re chestles. But yes, when they grow up and lose their baby fuzz, they do quite resemble dragons.”
River rolled her eyes. “Only you would mistake the eggs of a dangerous creature for chestnuts.”
The Doctor mouthed the word ‘sorry’ with a slightly sheepish apologetic smile. “But really, to be fair, they aren’t dangerous just yet. They won’t start breathing fire for aah, I’d say another two or three-“ he ran his hand over his mouth, obscuring the last word.
“Two or three what?” River asked, a note of impatience creeping into her voice. “Years? Months?”
“Hours,” he squeaked.
“Doctor! We’re in a library, with books!” River exclaimed, gesturing around. “We need to get those things out of here!”
“Don’t worry,” he assured her, holding up his hands. “I have a plan.”
“Is this one of your ‘try not to die’ sort of plans or one of your ‘I actually know what I’m doing’ sort of plans?”
“Does anyone ever really know what they’re doing?”
“Yes,” River affirmed.
“Well, that’s boring. Play The Christmas Song!” Instantly, Nat King Cole’s voice rang out through the library. “No, no! An instrumental version, one with lots of strings! Low strings, cellos!” Obediently, the music changed.
“See,” he explained as he arranged a towel into a rounded nest shape, “the adults’ calls sound very much like stringed instruments; violins when they’re younger and cellos or bass when they’re older. Chestles are born independent, but their mothers still care for them to a certain degree over the first part of their lives. She’ll sing to call them back to the nest for feeding or when it’s time to sleep. Look! It’s working!”
The creatures began peeping out from crevices and peering over the edge of the chandelier above, lured out of hiding by the fluidly clear music filling the room. One by one, they glided down to the nest and settled in with only a few minor scuffles over the most comfortable spots. Once quiet, they were actually quite beautiful creatures. Their wings folded smoothly against their gracefully curved backs and their tails, tipped with a feather-like tuft, curled around their lithe bodies. The fuzz that covered them was dark, but had a slight pearlescent quality to it, subtly shifting between deep blues, greens, and purples as the chestles moved.
“Twelve,” River counted. “That’s all of them.”
The Doctor retrieved a small antique birdcage from a shelf and together they gently moved the nest inside. “That should hold them until we get them home.”
They returned the baby chestles to their planet. Only the Doctor got slightly singed when he made a mistake in the coordinates and landed right in the middle of chestle territory rather than on the edge.
Back in the library, the Doctor was smiling but there was a shade of disappointment to his eyes. He tried so hard-too hard sometimes-just to make her happy and to make up for her past. Even little things like this that he perceived as failures seemed only to add to his guilt.
River placed her hand on his arm and spoke gently, “It’s okay, we could always just sit together by-”
“No, wait! I nearly forgot!” He clapped and raced over to the shopping bag left by the fireplace and rummaged through. “Marshmallows! And look, River, I even got you a gun that shoots marshmallows! Much better than a real gun because marshmallows!”
“Sweetie, did you get those from the same market where you got the chestle eggs?”
“The gun?” he asked, glancing at the toy. “No, it’s from Earth. The marshmallows, yes. Same aisle, in fact. Why?”
“Is there anything there with a name similar to ‘marshmallow’ that may object to being poked with a stick and held over a fire? Or shot from a marshmallow gun?”
The Doctor stared long and hard at the smudged bag before he chucked it over his shoulder. “You know what, you’re right. Cuddles are better. Christmas Cuddles! Oh, I like that. Cuddles are cool.”
The lights dimmed and The Christmas Song started playing again as they snuggled in each other’s arms in front of the fireplace. River nestled her head against the Doctor’s shoulder and he turned his head, brushing his lips lightly over her wild curls. She leaned into the contact and sighed happily, “This is the perfect old fashioned Christmas.”
¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤
Cookies for Santa
“Oh, no. No, no, no!” The Doctor froze halfway up the stairs then spun around and stampeded back down, pushing past Amy, Rory, and River, almost knocking them down in the process. “I nearly forgot! How could I forget? Silly old…” After just about falling down the last few steps, he disappeared down the hall.
The three exchanged looks and River mused, “What could possibly be so important this late on Christmas Eve?”
As they entered the kitchen, they found the Doctor carefully examining cookies before selecting the perfect treats to place on one of Amy’s best serving platters.
“Er, Doctor,” Amy said, looking with concern at her dish. “What are you doing?”
“Cookies for Santa!” he replied enthusiastically. “I can’t believe I nearly forgot! That would’ve been very not good.”
Amy and Rory exchanged amused glances but River gently asked, “Sweetie, does Santa ever actually eat the cookies you leave for him?”
“What?” He paused only for a moment in his meticulous arranging. “Well no, not usually. But see, he’s got to save his appetite for the kids’ cookies. They’d be disappointed if he didn’t eat theirs, but he knows I understand. I have to leave them anyway just in case, you know, he’s extra hungry this year. But if he isn’t, that’s okay. I’ll just eat them for breakfast like usual.”
“Cookies for breakfast?” Rory asked flatly.
“Of course,” he called over his shoulder as he carried the platter to place it beside the tree. “What else would you eat for breakfast Christmas morning?”
-
The next morning Amy and Rory were woken by a loud pounding on their door and the Doctor’s muffled voice shouting, “Wake up! It’s Christmas! Hurry up, Ponds!”
They stumbled blearily into the hall where they found River waiting for them. “He wanted to wake you hours ago, bless. I made him wait until sunrise.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t just skip forward in the TARDIS,” Rory mumbled groggily.
“Oh, he wanted to, but I wouldn’t let him. I’m trying to teach him some patience.”
“Yeah? How’s that going?” Amy asked.
“About as well as you’d expect,” River replied with a smirk.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, the Doctor held up the empty platter with a big grin, scattering crumbs all over the floor. “Hah! See? Don’t worry, though! I’ll get more for breakfast!”
“Rory, did you-“ Amy began but he just shook his head.
They both looked at River who just smiled. “Sometimes you have to create a little magic for those you love.”
¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤
Christmas Crackers
“Christmas crackers,” the Doctor announced, holding up a hand with one cracker on each of his fingers and wiggling them about.
“Sweetie, we just did crackers,” River reminded him gently, “and you’re still wearing all four of the crowns.”
“Yes, but these are special crackers,” he explained, passing out one each to Amy, Rory and River.
“Special how?” Rory asked, holding the tube up to his ear and shaking it cautiously. “Do they have something crazy in them like eight-legged alien badgers or something?”
“Don’t be silly! Those are way more expensive, plus they’re illegal on 33 planets. Not Earth, though. Hmm. Should’ve gotten those,” the Doctor mused. “Ah, well! Always next year! No, these crackers know exactly what hat suits you best, and it produces it. Brilliant, eh?”
Amy and Rory smiled indulgently at the Doctor while River openly rolled her eyes. “Mine will be empty, then.”
“Oh no! It’ll figure out something for you! It always does! It’s guaranteed! Here, pull mine with me,” he held one end of the cracker out to River who gripped it obligingly. They each pulled causing it to pop open and a crazy quilt mishmash of a number of different hats landed in the Doctor’s lap. “See? Perfect! It’s like every hat I could ever want in one!” He picked it up and examined it from every angle. “Look! There’s a bit of a fez, and over here there’s a part of a bowler hat, and here a fedora!”
He pulled a small slip of paper out from a crevice between the bit of Stetson and the beret before he placed the hat on his head. “Listen to the joke! ‘Why in the park, wheat of the world? Straw, potatoes, and beans!’” He laughed so hard he tipped over on the couch, tears streaming from his eyes. Rory and Amy just turned to River with confused looks.
“Well, I suppose it is mildly amusing in its original language. Not that funny though,” she gestured at the Doctor, who was still giggling madly. “But something is definitely lost in translation.”
Rory shrugged at Amy, “Shall we?” He offered her one end of the cracker. She took it and handed hers to him in return. They yanked hard, toppling backwards away from each other as the crackers opened with a pop. The contents of one, a police hat, landed near Rory while the felt Roman helmet contained within the other came to rest by Amy. The two exchanged small smiles as swapped the hats then donned them. The slips of paper that fluttered out were completely ignored.
After finally catching his breath, the Doctor turned to River who was struggling with her cracker. “See? It won’t open. It knows I hate all hats.”
“Don’t be silly, you need two people to open it. Here, I’ll help.” Without waiting for her to offer it, the Doctor reached over and grabbed one end of River’s cracker. With the loudest pop of them all, the foil cylinder finally ripped in two. A white and silver hat flew through the air and came to rest on the coffee table. Once stilled, it became obvious that it was a cloth representation of an astronaut helmet. The room fell silent as everyone stared at the hat.
Amy and Rory shot accusing glares at the Doctor. “What?” he hissed back at them. “I didn’t put it in there!” An icy tightness was spreading through the Doctor’s chest as he turned back toward the hat. Of all the hats in the universe why did it have to be that one? He quickly snatched it and chucked it over his shoulder, nearly knocking over one of Amy and Rory’s vases. “Who needs that hat? Rubbish. Cracker obviously malfunctioned. It was glitchy! I should get a refund. All wrong. Didn’t know what hat it was producing. It hasn’t got anything to do with anything. Not important at all.”
“No… no, but it is,” River began quietly, still staring at the coffee table. “It may have been the hardest thing to do in my life, even when I knew.” She turned toward the Doctor and cupped his cheek in her hand, running her thumb along his cheekbone just beneath his eye. “But there was good that came out of it. It is part of me now-part of us. It’s fixed. Nothing can change that.”
“Well, still,” the Doctor insisted, shifting his gaze away. “Bad batch, obviously. Look at what it did to mine!”
“To be fair, sweetie,” River replied with some of her usual spark returned. “If I had to pick just one hat I thought you’d like the most, I don’t think I could do it either.”
“She has a point,” Rory agreed.
The Doctor reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a fifth cracker. “I have one more. I was saving it so I could get another hat, but I want you to try again. Try not to think about how much you hate hats this time.”
River hesitated only a moment before she grasped the end the Doctor offered her and pulled. With a loud pop, a dark blur tumbled out and rolled under the coffee table.
Amy leaned down and retrieved the hat. “The Doctor’s top hat? Maybe it thought the cracker was his.”
“Oh, no,” River smiled as she accepted it from Amy. “This is definitely mine.”
“It’s the only hat you haven’t killed!” The Doctor slapped his hand over his mouth and mumbled between his fingers, “Spoilers?”
“Perhaps a bit, but not too bad. There’s a reason I wouldn’t destroy it.” River said, placing the top hat on her head and adjusting it to a slight angle. “Definitely spoilers for you, though.” She leaned closer to the Doctor and whispered, “Plus, it isn’t something I’d describe in front of my parents.”
“I look forward to it,” the Doctor murmured as a light flush crossed his cheeks.
“You’d better.”
¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤
Love Letters from Stormcage
Late Christmas night, crinkled paper littered the floor around the base of the tree and the empty stockings had been rehung from the mantle. The Doctor lounged on the couch, playing with a puzzle that could twist and turn into at least a dozen different hats. River quietly rose from her spot next to him and retrieved a brilliant blue leather bound book from a nearby shelf.
“One more gift, my love,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead as she placed the book in his lap.
The Doctor stopped fiddling with the puzzle long enough to glance at the object in his lap. “River!” he gasped, dropping his puzzle and frantically trying to stuff the tome back into her hands. “I-I-I can’t take that! It’s-it’s spoilers! Very much lots of spoilers! Full of spoilery spoilers of spoilerness!”
“Don’t be silly, I wouldn’t give you my diary. It’s a portfolio with letters I’ve written to you. Post from Stormcage is awful even to places that don’t hop around in time and space. So I saved them to give you all at once. Don’t worry,” she added, noting the lingering concern in his eyes. “I didn’t include any that specifically mentioned any spoilers.”
Without the fog of panic, he could tell the book was larger and thinner than her diary, though it was adorned with the same embossed pattern. He turned back the cover and began reading. The emotions contained within the series of letters rose and fell like a wave, from the highest expressions of love to the lowest tear-stained pages filled with anger. Many of the letters described things she’d like to do to him in such detail that the blush spread all the way to his ears and down his neck. None of the letters contained any specific information about the wheres or whens, of course, though one near the end seemed to stop just short of mentioning a child. He shot a sideways glance at her but didn’t say anything.
As he finished the final letter and closed the book, he turned to River and said, “Thank you, I love it. I really do.”
“I knew you would. Next to my diary, the letters you’ve written me are my most prized possessions.”
“What?” The Doctor frowned. “I haven’t written you any letters.”
“Spoilers.”
¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤
Jingle Cube
The Doctor was stalking around the console, trying and failing to ignore the incessant music emanating from the cube circling his head. From the moment the psychic container showed up, all it would do is play the chorus of Jingle Bells on an endless loop.
After the fifth botched attempt to hit the right coordinates for Stormcage, the Doctor pounded his fist on the console. “Can’t you play anything else?” For the briefest moment there was glorious silence. Then the cube began playing Jingle Bells again, this time in a classical style.
“You know,” the Doctor grumbled, waggling a finger at the floating object. “If I didn’t already know who sent you, I’d know who sent you now.”
River was curled on her bunk reading her diary as the Doctor exited the TARDIS followed by his own personal musical accompaniment. She greeted him with a casual tone as if he had just dropped in for tea. “Hello, sweetie.”
“Doctor River Song! I said only use this for emergencies!”
“It was an emergency,” she replied, rising to her feet to meet her guest. “It’s Christmas and you wouldn’t answer your phone.”
The Doctor aimed his sonic at the lock of her cell, all the while continually batting at the cube. “That is absolutely no ex-wait, what? Christmas? When? Now? River…I’m sorry.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m used to it. Why do you think I sent the container? Quite clever, I thought. But just wait until you see what I do to grab your attention next year.” River hummed a few notes of Silent Night and the cube fell quietly into her hand. “Now, I think I’d like to unwrap my gift.”
“But River, I didn’t bring you anything.”
“You didn’t?” she asked, her words filled with mock surprise. “What a shame. I guess we’ll just have to improvise.” River grabbed his braces and hauled him dangerously close to her with surprising strength. Her lips barely brushed his as she whispered, “Merry Christmas, my love.”
¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤
Precious Gifts
Dusk was just settling over the quiet village of Leadworth when Amy and Rory were wandering down their street, hand in hand, enjoying their neighbors’ Christmas decorations and each other’s company. A bright star appeared just above the tree line, twinkled for a moment then shot through the sky.
“Wish upon a star?” Rory asked.
“Already did,” Amy smiled. “I think that may be a sign it’s come true.”
Upon returning home, they found the lights on and River in the kitchen stirring a pot on the stove. She turned to them briefly and gave them a bright smile. “Hello! I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in.”
“Not at all,” Rory replied. “Our home is your home.”
“I’m making hot chocolate instead of getting out the wine. I figured you two would be cold after being out.”
“That’s fine,” Amy said, a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. “I probably shouldn’t have wine anyway.”
“Why not?” She turned to see Amy and Rory with broad grins and their hands resting together on Amy’s barely noticeable baby bump.
“Really? Congratulations!” River exclaimed, rushing around and embraced both her parents together. “Do you know what it is yet?”
“Them, actually,” Rory corrected. “A boy and a girl.”
“Twins!” River clapped her hands together and beamed at them both. “Do you have names?”
“Piper and Reed,” the two said in unison.
“Oh, those are darling names. I can’t wait to meet them! Just think, a baby brother and sister!”
“Well, I suppose it may be a bit difficult explaining you as the older sister,” Rory pointed out. “Maybe you could be Aunt River?”
“Hmmm…River, the crazy travelling aunt,” River mused. “I think I could have fun with that.”
“They’ll love your stories,” Amy grinned.
“And the Doctor’s stories,” River added then paused. “Speaking of, you weren’t on the TARDIS when…”
“Oh no, completely normal, right here on Earth,” Amy replied, patting her belly. “No time heads for these two.”
Amy and River laughed, but Rory frowned thoughtfully. “River,” he began, “do you and the Doctor…”
“Spoilers,” River cut him off.
“Well, if you do,” Amy said, glancing at Rory and slipping her hand into his. “Promise you’ll bring them here so we can see them. We don’t want to miss anything el-well, we just don’t want to miss anything.”
“Of course I will,” River nodded. “Every Christmas, every birthday, as often as possible. I promise.”
¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤
Believe
The Doctor tiptoed down the stairs giggling silently to himself. It was precisely one minute past midnight Christmas morning and he was certain that he would find the stockings stuffed, the cookies gone, and shiny foil-wrapped presents under the tree. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw none of these things. Instead, he noticed the top of a ginger head just over the top of the sofa.
“What are you doing up?” the Doctor asked as he sat on the couch next Amy.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she replied. “You?”
“I wanted to see if Santa had been here yet.”
“You’re how many hundreds of years old and you still believe in Santa?”
“Of course. He’s real. Not believing in Santa is like-like not believing in air! Why, don’t you?” the Doctor asked. Amy only gave him an incredulous look, but he got the message. “Oh, Amelia. When did you stop believing?”
Amy shifted her gaze to the floor and explained, “There was this doll in the window of a shop that we passed every day on the way to school. It was a beautiful porcelain doll with long ginger hair. Mels wanted it so badly. I wasn’t sure why. She never seemed to like dolls much, except for the ones I made of you. But I told her-I promised her-that if she was good the rest of the year, Santa would bring it for her. She said that Santa never brought her anything. I told her that’s because she was never good. So the rest of the year she was good, for Mels anyway. But Santa didn’t bring her anything at all, again. That’s when I knew.”
“Is there anything you ever wanted that you didn’t get?” he asked.
Amy’s head snapped towards him. She stared at him, her eyes narrowed in an surprisingly intimidating glare. If looks could kill, hers was so lethal that the Doctor would certainly be forced to at least his fourteenth or fifteenth regeneration.
The Doctor furrowed his brow in confusion at this sudden change. Then his eyes grew wide as it dawned on him. “Oh! Oh…Amy, I am so, so sorry. I-“
“No, no,” Amy sighed, her features relaxing. “I’m sorry, I-it’s just-Doctor, if you knew it wouldn’t have changed anything, if you knew she would’ve still grown up to be River-your River-would you have brought her back?”
“Of course.”
“Would it have really changed that much if you had?”
The Doctor didn’t say anything for a long while to the point Amy wasn’t sure if he heard her at all. She was just about to ask again when the Doctor said, “I-we should get back to bed. Santa won’t come if we’re sitting here.” He got up quickly and was already halfway up the stairs before Amy could say anything else.
-
The next morning after Amy and Rory were rudely awoken by the Doctor singing Christmas carols at the top of his lungs, they stumbled downstairs to find an unfamiliar package sitting in front of all the other presents under the tree. Amy leaned down and inspected the tag. “It says, To Melody and River, from Santa.”
River picked up the package and removed its wrappings to reveal a beautiful porcelain doll with long ginger hair. She wore a soft black velvet coat with a white silky dress underneath. River gasped, a sound almost halfway between a wistful sigh and a laugh.
“It looks just like Amy,” Rory remarked.
“Why do you think I wanted it?” River asked quietly, running her hand over the doll’s hair.
“Doctor, you went and got that, didn’t you?” Amy asked skeptically. “After we talked.”
He opened his mouth but River cut in. “Oh, I can guarantee you he didn’t leave the room once he got back. Didn’t sleep much either.”
The three of them discussed possibilities for the doll’s appearance. Maybe a future Doctor brought it? That would be crossing his own timeline, though. But when has that stopped him before? River went so far as to go persuade the TARDIS to produce records that proved the Doctor had never been and never would be near the coordinates at the point the store had the doll. All the while, the Doctor merely sat quietly on the sofa with a smile slowly spreading across his face, waiting for them to come to the inevitable conclusion.
“You don’t think…” River started.
“He actually is real?” Amy and Rory asked in unison.
All three turned to look at the Doctor, and his grin broadened. “Now I’ve gotten what I wanted. You lot believe again.”
¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤
Silent Night
It may have been several seconds or a few minutes before River finally decided to break out of her cell herself, but it seemed like ages. The familiar blue box materialized just outside, but the Doctor had not bounded immediately out like usual. Something was wrong and she intended to find out what it was. She opened the lock of her cell with practiced ease. They had replaced it with locks of ever increasing complexity until they had given up and just put the original one back. She really wasn’t sure why they even insisted on keeping it locked at all anymore.
River entered the TARDIS to see the Doctor leaning heavily against the console, his head bowed. “Doctor?” Concern filled her voice as she climbed the platform stairs. “What’s wrong?”
He opened his mouth and shook his head mutely.
“Oh, sweetie.” River pressed the back of her hand to his forehead, letting her fingers play in his wave of hair before she moved it down to cup his cheek. “You didn’t go to Illaisan did you? You know you always lose your voice for days after you go there.”
The Doctor shrugged and grinned sheepishly. But the longer he looked at her, the more his smile faded. He picked up a small notepad from the console and wrote, “I’m sorry.”
“Why for?”
“Christmas,” he scratched on the paper. “Should laugh at jokes in crackers and sing carols together.”
“The most important thing you wrote is right there,” River said, tracing a finger beneath the final word. “Being together is all that matters today. Not carols, gifts, or even cookies. Being with you is all I want. If you’d like, I won’t talk either. We can always communicate in other ways.”
The Doctor tapped the notepad but she silently shook her head and took it from his hands, returning it to the console. She brushed her hands over the light stubble along his jaw before curling her fingers around the back of his ears and tilting his head toward her. Their foreheads touched only briefly, but in that instant, the Doctor was overcome with her and everything that she was. He jerked back and mouthed the word, “Spoilers” But River only smiled and shook her head, making a motion as if turning a key in a lock.
After only a brief hesitation, the Doctor leaned down and brushed his forehead against hers again. A warm glowing web spread out from the single point of contact, or at least a glow is how his brain interpreted it. Sensations that seemed both new and old at the same time raced through his nerves, his flesh, and pumped through his hearts out to his extremities. He felt her voice inside him, vibrating softly in the way one without hearing feels music. The words were not distinct, but their meaning was clear. Messages of love and desire along with whispered promises of forever, all worked their way through every fiber of his being. His hand found its way easily up into her curls without even thinking about it. He wanted to hold her there, his skin against hers, making sure the contact would never stop. In this moment, they were one through all of time and space, with neither a beginning nor an end and that’s how it was meant to be.