FIC: The End Is Where We Start From [Doctor Who]
Title: The End Is Where We Start From
Author: atraphoenix
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: River Song/Romana II and Amy Pond
Rating: PG
Summary: The con artist, the politician and the end of the world.
Author's Note: Written for the 2010 yuri_challenge.
River Song was, among other things, a thief and a conwoman, but it was her association with Mephistopheles Arkadian that worried Romana.
The war had created niches for a large number of unscrupulous opportunists. They were unable to gain access to the Capitol, for the most part, but many of them had set up shop in the outlands. The majority made a modest sum by supplying the frightened population of Gallifrey with crude defensive shields and antiquated particle suppressors. Others put lives at risk by flooding the market with unsafe and untested weapons prototypes. Prototypes that were often - though Romana couldn’t prove it, unfortunately - provided by Arkadian’s many contacts.
Although the members of the High Council did their best to keep Gallifrey’s failings hidden, the truth was that they simply didn’t have the manpower required to stop the arms dealers. Every available man, woman and time tot had been thrown unto the fight against the Daleks.
Still, Romana knew Arkadian and she knew that he wouldn’t have sent anyone, least of all the notorious River Song, into the Citadel without a very good reason for taking the risk. He had probably ‘acquired’ something of unusual value. Something that the High President of a war torn Gallifrey would be willing to pay an impressive sum for.
(The unpleasant truth of the matter was that she would pay for it. She’d done it before. They hadn’t lost the war yet, but they’d lost a great many battles. Polymos, Elysium, Tsan, Orion, the home world of the Monan Host, Heydra … even Arcadia, now. She simply couldn’t afford to turn him down.)
Romana didn’t look up from her book when River entered the room. Instead, she turned the page and marked her place before giving the human any attention at all. Arkadian’s agent held all the cards, yes, but Romana was a politician. She was very good at appearing to hold cards that she had never even seen.
“My sources tell me that you have something that might be of use to me,” she said, eventually, giving River an appraising look.
She knew the woman by reputation - she was intelligent and opportunistic, with a finger in every proverbial pie - but this was the first time that she’d had the dubious pleasure of meeting her in person. River was dressed in the finest 51st century fashions and every bit as elegant as Romana had expected, though her expression was somewhat softer than anticipated. She looked a little … weary, in a way. Certainly not like a con artist, which was probably why she was so good at being one.
“I do. In a way.”
“Would you care to elaborate?”
“I want to help.”
“I’m sure you do!” exclaimed Romana with a burst of mirthless laughter, but River shook her head in response.
“You don’t understand. I’m not here to sell Arkadian’s toys.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I want to fight for the Time Lords.”
“You’re many things, River Song, but I hadn’t taken you for a mercenary.”
The silence that followed seemed to stretch on for an eternity. For a moment, Romana could hear nothing but River’s breathing and the sound of distant footsteps.
“I was at Arcadia.”
Of course. Arcadia.
Arcadia had changed everything. The Nekkistani fleet had been swallowed up in smoke and flames. The Sunari and Virgoan forces had been decimated. People had died in their thousands and, in the centre of it all, the Daleks had marched on, their war cry echoing through the stars. After that defeat, even the most stalwart of Time Lords had been forced to accept that their race was not invulnerable.
“And now you understand why we have to stamp out the Daleks?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, you can start by halting your practice of charging extortionate prices for basic equipment. You know as well as I do that the money could be better spent elsewhere.”
At that, River smiled. For a moment, she looked every inch the charismatic criminal that Romana had anticipated.
“Oh, Madam President,” she purred, “That would be too easy.”
***
Less than a week later, the CIA carried out a successful raid on Arkadian’s main base of operations. Before the illustrious criminal knew what was happening, Narvin and his operatives had swept in and out of the solar system, taking a large number of highly specialised and incredibly expensive pieces of technology with them when they left. It wasn’t elegant and it certainly wasn’t honourable, but it had saved lives. In the grand scheme of things, that was all that mattered.
(That and the fact that River’s information had been both freely given and perfect to the last detail.)
Of course, the Doctor didn’t agree. With time and patience and a few modifications, the weapons they’d recovered would make the de-mat gun pale into insignificance. Her friend might have been a general, but he didn’t approve of war.
Inwardly seething, Romana crossed the Citadel and made her way towards the comforting solitude of the Presidential Suite. She might have agreed with the Doctor once, but the war had forced her to become a pragmatist. The president of a race on the brink of extinction couldn’t afford to be anything else. He should have realised that!
“Who was he?”
It was River, looking cheerful and mischievous, her intelligent eyes hidden behind a pair of dark glasses.
“I hope you haven’t been spying on me,” Romana replied, coolly.
“I was just curious,” she said, falling into step beside the president. “It looked like a rather serious argument.”
“It was a discussion, actually,” she corrected. A discussion that had devolved into an argument. “How did you get past the guards?”
“By asking nicely.”
“If you’ve drugged them …”
“Romana! I’m hurt. We’re allies now.”
“No. We’re simply on the same side at the moment.”
“Very cynical.”
“I prefer ‘realistic’.”
They’d reached the door of Romana’s suite. River was still smiling.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in for a drink?”
***
The war was over, but Romana’s role in it was not.
The former president paused, briefly, to glance up on the familiar orange sky. She could see the outline of the Dalek ships that were waiting on the other side of the failing transduction barriers, but she had no time to lose and she certainly had no time to mourn. The Time Lords had always had a bit too much time on their hands, but now, at the end of everything, there wasn’t quite enough.
Rassilon controlled the High Council, but Romana and her allies had been preparing for such an eventuality since his resurrection. The Moment was ready and waiting. In a matter of minutes, the time lock would be activated and the war - the war and the desperate races that had fought in it - would be cut off forever. It was the only way to defeat the Daleks.
“Romana!”
She’d risked a great deal to leave her base in search of River but, somehow, the human had managed to find her first. Really, she shouldn’t have been surprised.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she chastised, though her hearts weren’t in and River rarely listened to her remonstrations.
“I had to find out what was going on. The allies are in chaos …”
“So is Gallifrey. The war’s over. The Dalek Emperor has taken control of the Cruciform and it’s only a matter of time before they break through the transduction barriers.”
“Oh my god …”
Romana took the other woman’s hand, attempting to get River to give her her full attention.
“River, I need you to listen to me,” said Romana urgently, “You have to leave Gallifrey.”
“Are you leaving?”
“My place is here.”
“You’ve got a plan?”
For the first time in a long time, Romana managed to smile.
“Of course.”
“Tell me what to do.”
She trusted her. They’d been enemies once, but they’d been thrown together by the war and, somewhere along the line, a temporary allegiance had developed into a friendship. Romana couldn’t pinpoint precisely when it happened, but she was very glad - now more than ever - that it had.
“Leave,” she said, tapping River’s vortex manipulator. Crude technology, but it would suffice. “If you don’t transport in the next fifteen microspans, you’re going to be trapped here.”
River gave her a questioning glance and, when Romana tried to let go of her hand, held on tight.
“We’ve constructed a time lock to isolate the war from time and space. When it’s activated, no one will be able to get in or out. Not a single Time Lord, Dalek or freelancing criminal.”
“Then what? Are you telling me you’re going to stay inside? All of you?”
“It’s the only way to end the war. If we simply destroy the Daleks, they’ll find a way to travel back in time and save themselves.”
“And the Time Lords?”
“I’ve taken the steps to ensure the future of my race.” She couldn’t - wouldn’t - elaborate. Her plan was far from perfect, but, at the moment, it was the only chance the Time Lords had. “I need you to trust me, River.”
“I trust you.”
Her skin was warm. Her cheeks were flushed. When she leaned forward and brushed her lips to Romana’s, the Time Lord managed to forget everything - the war and the Daleks and her many political enemies - for a few blissful seconds. There wasn’t enough time for everything she wanted to say, but it probably didn’t matter. The expression on her face would have told River more than enough.
“I won’t forget you,” she vowed, fierce and beautiful and so very human. With one hand, Romana tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. With the other, she activated the vortex manipulator.
“I rather hope you do,” she said, taking a step back as River started to fade away, “It would make things much simpler for you.”
Although she couldn’t hear River’s answer, she could guess what the other woman had said.
Who wants ‘simplicity’?
***
“This one’s good.”
Amy turned and glanced at the picture that River was holding up, grinning in a way that was both embarrassed and defiant. The crayoned Amy and crayoned Doctor smiled back at her.
“Stop it!” she laughed, “You’re supposed to be helping me pack, remember?”
“And I’ve already told you,” said River, turning back to the stack of drawings on Amy’s dressing table, “Space Vegas doesn’t have a dress code.”
“Is it like Earth Vegas?” Amy asked, pulling a skirt out of the wardrobe and holding it critically against herself before tossing it clumsily back inside.
“Bright, noisy and the perfect place to gamble? Yes.”
“We should take in a show,” Amy enthused, rooting through her jewellery box and sending bits and pieces scattering across the bed. “The Doctor was talking about an Elvis impersonator …”
“No, he’s not an impersonator,” River corrected, flicking through the drawings once more, “I don’t think he felt appreciated on Earth …”
She stopped, grabbing a painting so hard that the edge of the paper crumpled beneath her fingers.
“River? What is?”
In many ways, River’s life had begun after the fall of Gallifrey. Despite the money that she could have made in the subsequent scramble for temporal technology, she’d chosen to study archaeology at Mars’ most prominent university instead. (According to her lecturers, her dissertation - a piece on the ruins of Arcadia - had been “remarkably insightful”.) It had been a long time since she’d dreamed of the orange skies and silver trees that Amy’s childhood self had drawn, but the robed figure at the edge of the scene reminded her inexorably of someone who was never far from her mind.
“Why did you draw this?”
“That?” Amy shrugged the question aside, turning back to her jewellery box. “I think I saw it in a dream.”
“I know the feeling.”
***
The universe poured into Amy’s head through the crack in her bedroom wall. Sometimes, she found herself remembering a life she’d never lived. There was a key scattered across time and space and a Time Lord who borrowed the face of a princess and metal monsters and, again and again, a planet with two suns and deep red grass.
It was always came back to that planet. That planet and that key.
The pieces had slotted into place. Amy simply needed to remember how to open the lock.
Author: atraphoenix
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: River Song/Romana II and Amy Pond
Rating: PG
Summary: The con artist, the politician and the end of the world.
Author's Note: Written for the 2010 yuri_challenge.
River Song was, among other things, a thief and a conwoman, but it was her association with Mephistopheles Arkadian that worried Romana.
The war had created niches for a large number of unscrupulous opportunists. They were unable to gain access to the Capitol, for the most part, but many of them had set up shop in the outlands. The majority made a modest sum by supplying the frightened population of Gallifrey with crude defensive shields and antiquated particle suppressors. Others put lives at risk by flooding the market with unsafe and untested weapons prototypes. Prototypes that were often - though Romana couldn’t prove it, unfortunately - provided by Arkadian’s many contacts.
Although the members of the High Council did their best to keep Gallifrey’s failings hidden, the truth was that they simply didn’t have the manpower required to stop the arms dealers. Every available man, woman and time tot had been thrown unto the fight against the Daleks.
Still, Romana knew Arkadian and she knew that he wouldn’t have sent anyone, least of all the notorious River Song, into the Citadel without a very good reason for taking the risk. He had probably ‘acquired’ something of unusual value. Something that the High President of a war torn Gallifrey would be willing to pay an impressive sum for.
(The unpleasant truth of the matter was that she would pay for it. She’d done it before. They hadn’t lost the war yet, but they’d lost a great many battles. Polymos, Elysium, Tsan, Orion, the home world of the Monan Host, Heydra … even Arcadia, now. She simply couldn’t afford to turn him down.)
Romana didn’t look up from her book when River entered the room. Instead, she turned the page and marked her place before giving the human any attention at all. Arkadian’s agent held all the cards, yes, but Romana was a politician. She was very good at appearing to hold cards that she had never even seen.
“My sources tell me that you have something that might be of use to me,” she said, eventually, giving River an appraising look.
She knew the woman by reputation - she was intelligent and opportunistic, with a finger in every proverbial pie - but this was the first time that she’d had the dubious pleasure of meeting her in person. River was dressed in the finest 51st century fashions and every bit as elegant as Romana had expected, though her expression was somewhat softer than anticipated. She looked a little … weary, in a way. Certainly not like a con artist, which was probably why she was so good at being one.
“I do. In a way.”
“Would you care to elaborate?”
“I want to help.”
“I’m sure you do!” exclaimed Romana with a burst of mirthless laughter, but River shook her head in response.
“You don’t understand. I’m not here to sell Arkadian’s toys.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I want to fight for the Time Lords.”
“You’re many things, River Song, but I hadn’t taken you for a mercenary.”
The silence that followed seemed to stretch on for an eternity. For a moment, Romana could hear nothing but River’s breathing and the sound of distant footsteps.
“I was at Arcadia.”
Of course. Arcadia.
Arcadia had changed everything. The Nekkistani fleet had been swallowed up in smoke and flames. The Sunari and Virgoan forces had been decimated. People had died in their thousands and, in the centre of it all, the Daleks had marched on, their war cry echoing through the stars. After that defeat, even the most stalwart of Time Lords had been forced to accept that their race was not invulnerable.
“And now you understand why we have to stamp out the Daleks?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, you can start by halting your practice of charging extortionate prices for basic equipment. You know as well as I do that the money could be better spent elsewhere.”
At that, River smiled. For a moment, she looked every inch the charismatic criminal that Romana had anticipated.
“Oh, Madam President,” she purred, “That would be too easy.”
***
Less than a week later, the CIA carried out a successful raid on Arkadian’s main base of operations. Before the illustrious criminal knew what was happening, Narvin and his operatives had swept in and out of the solar system, taking a large number of highly specialised and incredibly expensive pieces of technology with them when they left. It wasn’t elegant and it certainly wasn’t honourable, but it had saved lives. In the grand scheme of things, that was all that mattered.
(That and the fact that River’s information had been both freely given and perfect to the last detail.)
Of course, the Doctor didn’t agree. With time and patience and a few modifications, the weapons they’d recovered would make the de-mat gun pale into insignificance. Her friend might have been a general, but he didn’t approve of war.
Inwardly seething, Romana crossed the Citadel and made her way towards the comforting solitude of the Presidential Suite. She might have agreed with the Doctor once, but the war had forced her to become a pragmatist. The president of a race on the brink of extinction couldn’t afford to be anything else. He should have realised that!
“Who was he?”
It was River, looking cheerful and mischievous, her intelligent eyes hidden behind a pair of dark glasses.
“I hope you haven’t been spying on me,” Romana replied, coolly.
“I was just curious,” she said, falling into step beside the president. “It looked like a rather serious argument.”
“It was a discussion, actually,” she corrected. A discussion that had devolved into an argument. “How did you get past the guards?”
“By asking nicely.”
“If you’ve drugged them …”
“Romana! I’m hurt. We’re allies now.”
“No. We’re simply on the same side at the moment.”
“Very cynical.”
“I prefer ‘realistic’.”
They’d reached the door of Romana’s suite. River was still smiling.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in for a drink?”
***
The war was over, but Romana’s role in it was not.
The former president paused, briefly, to glance up on the familiar orange sky. She could see the outline of the Dalek ships that were waiting on the other side of the failing transduction barriers, but she had no time to lose and she certainly had no time to mourn. The Time Lords had always had a bit too much time on their hands, but now, at the end of everything, there wasn’t quite enough.
Rassilon controlled the High Council, but Romana and her allies had been preparing for such an eventuality since his resurrection. The Moment was ready and waiting. In a matter of minutes, the time lock would be activated and the war - the war and the desperate races that had fought in it - would be cut off forever. It was the only way to defeat the Daleks.
“Romana!”
She’d risked a great deal to leave her base in search of River but, somehow, the human had managed to find her first. Really, she shouldn’t have been surprised.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she chastised, though her hearts weren’t in and River rarely listened to her remonstrations.
“I had to find out what was going on. The allies are in chaos …”
“So is Gallifrey. The war’s over. The Dalek Emperor has taken control of the Cruciform and it’s only a matter of time before they break through the transduction barriers.”
“Oh my god …”
Romana took the other woman’s hand, attempting to get River to give her her full attention.
“River, I need you to listen to me,” said Romana urgently, “You have to leave Gallifrey.”
“Are you leaving?”
“My place is here.”
“You’ve got a plan?”
For the first time in a long time, Romana managed to smile.
“Of course.”
“Tell me what to do.”
She trusted her. They’d been enemies once, but they’d been thrown together by the war and, somewhere along the line, a temporary allegiance had developed into a friendship. Romana couldn’t pinpoint precisely when it happened, but she was very glad - now more than ever - that it had.
“Leave,” she said, tapping River’s vortex manipulator. Crude technology, but it would suffice. “If you don’t transport in the next fifteen microspans, you’re going to be trapped here.”
River gave her a questioning glance and, when Romana tried to let go of her hand, held on tight.
“We’ve constructed a time lock to isolate the war from time and space. When it’s activated, no one will be able to get in or out. Not a single Time Lord, Dalek or freelancing criminal.”
“Then what? Are you telling me you’re going to stay inside? All of you?”
“It’s the only way to end the war. If we simply destroy the Daleks, they’ll find a way to travel back in time and save themselves.”
“And the Time Lords?”
“I’ve taken the steps to ensure the future of my race.” She couldn’t - wouldn’t - elaborate. Her plan was far from perfect, but, at the moment, it was the only chance the Time Lords had. “I need you to trust me, River.”
“I trust you.”
Her skin was warm. Her cheeks were flushed. When she leaned forward and brushed her lips to Romana’s, the Time Lord managed to forget everything - the war and the Daleks and her many political enemies - for a few blissful seconds. There wasn’t enough time for everything she wanted to say, but it probably didn’t matter. The expression on her face would have told River more than enough.
“I won’t forget you,” she vowed, fierce and beautiful and so very human. With one hand, Romana tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. With the other, she activated the vortex manipulator.
“I rather hope you do,” she said, taking a step back as River started to fade away, “It would make things much simpler for you.”
Although she couldn’t hear River’s answer, she could guess what the other woman had said.
Who wants ‘simplicity’?
***
“This one’s good.”
Amy turned and glanced at the picture that River was holding up, grinning in a way that was both embarrassed and defiant. The crayoned Amy and crayoned Doctor smiled back at her.
“Stop it!” she laughed, “You’re supposed to be helping me pack, remember?”
“And I’ve already told you,” said River, turning back to the stack of drawings on Amy’s dressing table, “Space Vegas doesn’t have a dress code.”
“Is it like Earth Vegas?” Amy asked, pulling a skirt out of the wardrobe and holding it critically against herself before tossing it clumsily back inside.
“Bright, noisy and the perfect place to gamble? Yes.”
“We should take in a show,” Amy enthused, rooting through her jewellery box and sending bits and pieces scattering across the bed. “The Doctor was talking about an Elvis impersonator …”
“No, he’s not an impersonator,” River corrected, flicking through the drawings once more, “I don’t think he felt appreciated on Earth …”
She stopped, grabbing a painting so hard that the edge of the paper crumpled beneath her fingers.
“River? What is?”
In many ways, River’s life had begun after the fall of Gallifrey. Despite the money that she could have made in the subsequent scramble for temporal technology, she’d chosen to study archaeology at Mars’ most prominent university instead. (According to her lecturers, her dissertation - a piece on the ruins of Arcadia - had been “remarkably insightful”.) It had been a long time since she’d dreamed of the orange skies and silver trees that Amy’s childhood self had drawn, but the robed figure at the edge of the scene reminded her inexorably of someone who was never far from her mind.
“Why did you draw this?”
“That?” Amy shrugged the question aside, turning back to her jewellery box. “I think I saw it in a dream.”
“I know the feeling.”
***
The universe poured into Amy’s head through the crack in her bedroom wall. Sometimes, she found herself remembering a life she’d never lived. There was a key scattered across time and space and a Time Lord who borrowed the face of a princess and metal monsters and, again and again, a planet with two suns and deep red grass.
It was always came back to that planet. That planet and that key.
The pieces had slotted into place. Amy simply needed to remember how to open the lock.