Shadow in the Silver City 1/5

[buffyaddict_fic]

Title: Shadow in the Silver City 1/5
Author: buffyaddict13
Fandoms: Doctor Who, Firefly
Rating: PG-13 just to be safe
Characters/Pairings: 11th Doctor, River Tam, Jenny (the Doctor's daughter), OCs, glimpses of Serenity's crew as well as Amy and Rory Pond / gen
Words: 35,700 total
Summary: The Eleventh Doctor and his new friend River Tam board a ship based on the 1892 Chicago World's Fair. They arrive in answer to a distress call, but it's the Doctor who needs help.
Spoilers: Doctor Who: all of New Who through 6x04, The Doctor's Wife.  Firefly: all episodes plus Serenity movie
A/N 1: Several years ago I fell in love with the book Devil in the White City. I finally came up with a weird idea where I could pay homage to the Columbian Expo and River Tam in the same fic. I've written in many fandoms, but this is my first multi-chapter Doctor Who fic...that I actually finished. I hope you're not disappointed.
A/N 2: Endless thanks to my dearest jie-jie for the constant encouragement and mad beta skillz.




The TARDIS materializes between a dilapidated ambulance and an ancient hover craft. The Doctor steps out of his ship and stretches. He pats the side of his ship affectionately and wanders into the Eavesdown Docks.

He sniffs, licks the tip of his index finger, holds it up. Hmm. Feels distinctly 26th century-ish. He's in...2518. 2519 at the latest.

The weather is unseasonably warm for October on the terraformed planet, but the Doctor doesn't mind. Extreme temperatures don't affect him much, which is good, because he's not taking off his tie. He whistles tunelessly, hands in his pockets, and meanders along a seemingly-endless row of broken-down vehicles. Now, where to find some thermo couplings? This is the kind of thing he'd usually send Rory out for. Of all the times for the newlyweds to visit Amy's parents back on Earth.

"Now, now, don't be rude," the Doctor reminds himself softly. At least Amy finally has parents to visit.

Nice little planet, this. Persephone's not a core planet, but it's not on the rim either. Its location makes it the perfect stopping-off point to trade, buy, or nick supplies. There was a big war in these parts some time back, between the Alliance and the independence-minded Browncoats. The Doctor glances down at his tan houndstooth jacket. Oops.

Still, he’s in a salvage yard, minding his own business. How can he possibly get into trouble? He’s safe as houses. Not likely to run into anyone here. Besides, civil unrest doesn’t come to Persephone for another six years. The Eavesdown Docks are a bit like a gigantic market; he can hear the noisy hub-bub of sellers bartering with prospective buyers on the other side of the fence. Unbidden, his mind goes to the last time he strolled through a market. He and Donna had been on Shan Shen, enjoying a tasty beverage. That was before everything went all Bad Wolfy. Before he left Rose with his replacement, before he lost Donna forever. The Doctor rubs his nose, relegates the memories to a back cupboard and kicks it closed.

He concentrates on the piles of junk stacked up in all directions instead. Ooh, there’s good stuff here! He extracts the sonic screwdriver from his pocket and ambles between the rows grinning, as if the bits of torn rubber and bobs of broken metal are the equivalent of a museum exhibition. Truth be told, they're better than a good lot of the exhibits he's seen.

The Doctor taps a loose coil of wire gently. He should really take the time to tinker a bit more. Create. Invent. His last real invention was the Timey-Wimey Detector. Messing about with wires and metal can be very relaxing. Unless you’re trying to dismantle a bomb. Then: not relaxing at all. Wearing steampunky goggles and sonicing bits of stuff together keeps one’s mind busy, and away from things better left unthought. Helps with the dexterity too. The Doctor wiggles his fingers. Not too bad for an old codger. After he’s replaced the thermo couplings on the old girl, maybe he’ll invent something. Something that goes ding! when there’s a rift or dimensional wrinkle in space. And it should make bacon. Wait, no. Bacon's rubbish. Maybe fish fingers. Or Jammie Dodgers! He clicks his fingers happily. That way he could refuel the TARDIS and have a biscuit. Excellent! He’s working on names (Rifty-Drifty Detector?) when the thoughts literally slam into him.

The Doctor stumbles and looks around wildly. What was--?

There it is again. It’s like hitting a wall. With his head. While running. He presses both hands to his temples and blinks Time back into focus. In his mind he can see a girl, sense her mind the way she senses his. She doesn’t mean to hurt him. She can barely control her power, her thoughts are fingers, reaching out in all directions, curious, searching, exploring. Hiding.

She’s hiding. From him.

He wants to ask who she is, but there’s no time. She takes him down dark corridors, up stairs, through a space ship, the words Firefly Class stamped on its hull. He sees a young girl dancing, pirouetting for her brother, playing hide and seek. He sees a girl, the same but different, broken, put back together wrong, images of blue hands and hypodermic needles in his head. He’s horrified by the magnitude of her mistreatment. Who’s to blame? What happened? And why?

Before he can suss it out, he sees her clinging to her brother. He's older now, his face drawn with worry. She’s mourning someone named Miranda, piloting a ship, playing with plastic dinosaurs. Two words emerge from the tangle of memories: Little Albatross.

The Doctor responds in kind, knowing he won’t be able to resist her prying--but oddly gentle--thought-fingers. He throws up doors and pulls down blinds as she walks through the dusty hallways of his mind. He shows her the TARDIS. Sarah Jane. Ace. His time on Earth with Rose, when he wore a black jacket and a harder face. Running across the Globe Theater with Martha, when he wore trainers and wild hair. Meeting Agatha Christie with Donna. He doesn't want to show her what happened to Donna, (what he did to Donna) and locks that particular door. The girl hesitates in front of the locked room. They can both hear Donna crying as her mind fractures from too much knowledge, too much Time. Abruptly, he shows the girl what Earth’s creation looked like, and then its destruction He shows her the Pandorica, Amy at his side. He shows her Daleks, Cybermen, Weeping Angels, Autons. But the door to Gallifrey (those majestic mountains, Solace and Solitude, shining silver against the copper sky), the Time War, and the Master is dead-locked. Sealed. Not even a sonic screwdriver can free those memories now. He offers the girl two words of his own: Time Lord.

The fingers retreat, and the Doctor turns in a slow, thoughtful circle, searching for the girl. There’s no movement. A breeze ruffles his fringe. He considers tracking her with the sonic screwdriver, but hesitates. Instead he thinks, Where are you?

Hiding.

Why?

Didn’t mean to pry. But you’re an open book. An open watch. Pocket watch. I couldn’t resist the shine. I can hear the tick of time. Then, What’s a Time Lord?

A race of stuffed shirts. My shirt is much less stuffed, and infinitely more cool than those who came before me. I travel through time and space. Came here looking for something.

What are you looking for?

He thinks Type 40 thermo coupler and shoves his hands deep in his pockets. She’s over...there. No. Yes. Wait. Maybe there. He starts walking.

Are you looking for chrome, nicrosil or platinum-rhodium? Rhodium is extremely rare. Its chemical symbol is Rh and atomic number is 45. Serenity's thermo couplings are made of tungsten which sounds like they're made from your tongue-- the girl makes a nnng sound as if she's sticking her tongue out--but they're not. Five years ago Alliance factories began manufacturing thermo couplings made from the alloy alumel. That’s probably why so many ships drop outta the sky. I saw some thermo couplings over by the southwest entrance. Don't know what kind you need exactly, but I reckon there's something to get your blue box spinning.

Who are you? The Doctor wonders in admiration. I think you must be human, but I’ve never met anyone, human or otherwise, who could read minds the way you do. He straightens his bow tie. And I’ve been around longer than you think.

I’m Simon’s sister.

The Doctor stands in front of an old transit vehicle. It resembles a mechanized carriage. He pulls the back door open and a pale-faced girl blinks out at him. Waves of tangled coffee-coloured hair fall past her shoulders. She’s wearing a flowery dress and black leather boots. The Doctor smiles at her kindly.

"Hello, Simon's Sister."

The girl smiles back. There’s not a hint of fear on her face. "Hello."

"I’m the Doctor."

The girl nods, as if she already knows. She hops down from the carriage gracefully. "I’m River."

The Doctor gapes at her. He walks around the girl slowly, scrutinizing her hair, her face, her clothes. She can't be.

"River...Song?"

She gives him a curious look, shakes her head. "River Tam."

"Another River? Blimey, how many of you are there?"

River counters with: "You sound like Badger."

The Doctor blinks, frowns. He's been called a lot of names over the years, but this is a first for that particular animal. He tugs on his fringe, grimacing. "Is it the hair?"

River laughs. "No, Badger's a businessman in these parts." She tilts her head. "Does 'businessman' mean the same as a gorram no-good, two-bit bunger? That's what Mal calls him."

The Doctor considers. "They're practically synonyms. Lucky for us, I'm not a businessman." He scratches the back of his neck, rolls his eyes. "I hate paper work. Tedious stuff. Takes forever! And when you fold King Arthur's Last Will and Testament into a paper airplane, everyone gets all testy about it. Three o'clock meetings? Boring. And rules?" He waves a hand disdainfully, offers River a sly grin. "Are made to be broken."

"Simon likes rules," River admits. "He says no dancing at the dinner table." She pouts her lower lip out. "Stupid rules."

"Stupid rules, indeed."

* * *

The Doctor darts little intrigued looks at River while they walk. He’s never met anyone like her before. For a human, she’s a genius in every sense of the word. He's pretty sure she's smarter than Adric, and blimey! That's a fair amount of brains. She keeps him on his toes. Figuratively, of course.

River, on the other hand, is literally, on her toes. She pirouettes, arms as graceful as swans, as she hums Beethoven’s Ode an die Freude beside a rusty Trans-U carrier. The Doctor claps in approval, delighted by the impromptu performance. Why won't Simon let her dance during dinner? Surely a bit of ballet makes left-overs go down easier.

He stops beside a towering pile of rubbish and plucks a broken tin snips from beneath a metal box stamped ALLIANCE.

“Look,” he says, brandishing the single blade. “I used to have a pair of tin snips just like this. And when I say ‘tin’ snips I don’t really mean tin cos these’ll cut just about anything.” The Doctor studies the blade and then carefully licks the side of it.

River stares at him, startled.

The Doctor smacks his lips and pulls a grimace. “Could use some oil. Tastes like…polycarbide. With more than a hint of iron oxide. Not one of my favourite flavours, mind you.” He rubs his chin, thinking. “I’d have to say Pistachio Cappuccino Chocolate Coconut Ripple takes that particular honour. Of course they don’t offer it until the 52nd century but it’s well worth the wait.” He knits his eyebrows and casts an extremely solemn look at the girl. “What’s your favourite flavour?”

River purses her lips, contemplative. “Bittersweet chocolate.” A pause. “And purple.”

The Doctor beams. “Ooh, those are good!” he agrees, bobbing his head. “Especially purple. Quite underrated, that one. I also recommend pink and blue as well. Especially in regard to candy floss." He points a finger at River, utterly serious. "But you can’t top blue.”

River frowns. “What’s candy floss?”

“What?” The Doctor is aghast. “Never had candy floss? How about cotton candy? Fairy floss? It looks like coloured wool but tastes loads better. Sweet fluffy stuff that comes on a stick.” Off her blank look the Doctor rubs the back of his neck. “No? Well. Tragedy, that. I don’t suppose you want to go for a quick trip?" The Doctor claps his hands together, excited. "I know just the place. St. Louis World’s Fair, 1904. Not as good as the Columbian Expo, but really, how can you top that? Electricity, indoor plumbing and the Midway! Now that was a sight! Fancy a trip?”

River tilts her head. "I can hear your ship, but I don’t see her. She sings real pretty."

The Doctor’s smile slips. “You're right, River. She sings very pretty."

River skips ahead, humming a tune he recognizes as Who’s afraid of the Big Bad Wolf. The Doctor’s smile rights itself. Rose certainly wasn’t. He follows River as she flits down a narrow path.

Two maze-like rows later they come to the pile of thermo couplings River told him about. He picks up three of them. They're not in the best shape, but he has enough to jiggery-poke a usable part from the lot.

“What are you doing hanging about in a dodgy place like this?" he asks, eyeing a rhodium coupling critically. "Aren’t you supposed to be in school? Although avoiding education seems a popular human pursuit within your age group.” He looks up, grins cheekily. "And mine."

I’m done with school. She scuffs the ground with the toe of her boot. They broke me there. Put shadows in my head. Tried to make me into something I’m not. All the king’s horses and all the kings men couldn’t put me together again. River pauses, looks back over her shoulder at the Doctor. Out loud she says, “But Simon did a fairish facsimile. Can hardly see the cracks most days.”

“You’re not broken, River,” the Doctor says sincerely. “You’re remarkable. And I can help you, I can help erase those cracks.”

She clasps her hands behind her back and tilts her head. Her hair falls like a curtain. “You’re a doctor? Like Simon?”
“I’m a different kind of doctor. I'm the Doctor. I can help you control your thoughts." He waggles his fingers on either side of his head. "Help keep out the noise."

By now they’ve almost reached the TARDIS. River lifts her face to the sky and watches a gull fly overhead. “My head’s over-populated with folk. There are too many voices that aren’t mine. I don’t mind Simon. Or Kaylee. Or Zoe, even though her thoughts are always sorrowful lately. I don’t even mind the Captain. But I would very much like to eject Jayne from my brainpan.”

The Doctor nods in agreement. “I don’t know who those people are, but I agree with you on principle.” The Time Lord pulls the sonic screwdriver from his pocket. “I think we can send some of those voices on a lengthy holiday. What do you say?”

At the sight of the sonic device, River’s entire body stiffens. Her eyes dart from the circling birds to the empty rows of the salvage yard.

The Doctor quickly shows her the tool. “Look--it’s harmless. Really. Just a screwdriver with a bit of sonic.” He points it at himself, turns it on and off, demonstrating. "This won't hurt you." He puts a hand on her shoulder. "I won't hurt you."

River shakes her head, goes still. “No. There’s something else,” her voice is less than a whisper, scarcely more than silence. “Not purple bellies or blue hands.” She closes her eyes. “Just black hearts.”

* * *

River’s chin rises almost imperceptibly. The movement is barely noticeable, but full of defiance. Very interesting. The Doctor drops his hand, slides the sonic screwdriver back into his pocket. He can hear the footsteps of two, maybe three men approaching. Definitely three, and they're wearing boots. He can also make out the low roar of an engine nearby. Sounds like a small transport ship.

"Who are they?" the Doctor asks. "Local police force? Alliance Soldiers? The Truancy Board?" He glances down at the tin snips and thermo couplings he's this close to dropping. He thrusts the broken handle toward River. "Here. Hold this. Thank you." He frowns in annoyance. "This is ridiculous. I haven’t even stolen anything yet. And really, I'm not even stealing. I'm borrowing. Just like a library. You don't see Library Police running about, do you? Well, outside that one Stephen King story and Biblio Three.

"I borrowed my TARDIS and that turned out all right. Besides, I'll bring her back someday. Probably." He clears his throat, mutters a soft: "Not." The Doctor hurriedly stuffs couplings into his voluminous pockets. "Who else in the universe needs these manky old parts, eh? They could at least have the decency to wait until I actually commit a crime." He throws up his hands in mock outrage. "For all they know, I could be browsing. Window shopping! Well, you can’t window shop without windows, but you get the gist. Still, don't want to disappoint them. They came all the way out here and everything. Might as well give their day a bit of a lift."

"They’re not police," River murmurs, and hides the tin snip behind her back. "Not Alliance soldiers, neither. Something else."

Muffled voices draw close. This way, followed by an over here. Two men stride into view. They’re not wearing uniforms exactly, but they’re both dressed in black trousers, black boots, and long black coats. A red T-shaped badge adorns each lapel. Both men appear to be in their mid- to late-thirties. The first man is slightly taller with dark, well-coiffed hair. The shorter man has a sallow complexion, his black hair bristles in a precise military cut. Maybe they really do have black hearts. They certainly seem fond of the colour.

The Walrus and the Carpenter, River thinks.

The Doctor places the reference easily. A brilliant poem. He can’t quite keep the smile off his face. And we’re the oysters, I take it?

River looks at him, eyes wide with worry. No. You are.

"Stop right there," the taller man barks. The Doctor identifies him as Walrus.

Carpenter stomps up next. "Drop your weapons and raise your hands," he shoots the Doctor a menacing look. "Slowly."

The Doctor pats his pockets nonchalantly. "No weapons, me. Just a few thermo couplings, that's all. A bit of rubbish. Thermo couplings wouldn't hurt a fly. But they might hurt a Capissen engine." The Doctor shouts loudly through cupped hands: "If you're a mucky Capissen engine, you’d best watch out." He drops his hands. "But neither of you resemble a Capissen engine, not with the fair-to-middling hygiene and protruding arm and leg bits." The Time Lord lifts an eyebrow slightly, his expression friendly. Cooperative, even. “So how about you tell me what this is all about?”

A third man jogs up behind them, also in matching trousers and coat. He’s holding a gun large enough to hold a decent-sized Vykoid city. In keeping with the current trend, the gun is black. It’s also pointing directly at the Time Lord’s chest.

The TARDIS--that’s my ship--is directly behind you, the Doctor thinks at River, his expression unchanged. The door is unlocked. I want you to get inside. You’ll be safe. I’ll be right behind you.

“By the Authority of the Union of Allied Planets you are hereby bound by Torchwood, Division Five. Drop your weapons and raise you hands.” Walrus regards the Doctor with an air of cool detachment. An eyebrow arches. “Don’t make me ask again.”

“I see." The Doctor considers the man’s request, rejects it. "Can I ask what I’ve done?”

“All Anglo-Sino Alliance ships run on gravity drives. So do scavenger vessels, transports and med units. Our scanners picked up a heat signature in this salvage yard that does not come from a gravity drive. We have been unable to determine exactly what type of drive your ship possesses.” The Carpenter’s mouth curves into a frosty smile. “Please provide your ident card and explain your vessel, sir.”

The Doctor makes a show of looking around. “What makes you think it’s my vessel your scanners detected? I’m just a neighbourly sort out for a stroll. Well, more of an amble, really. Weather is a bit humid for a stroll, don't you think?” His own smile cools by several degrees. He’s not afraid, but he’s concerned. Not for himself of course.

He should have left the moment River warned him about the Black Heart Brigade. Now he’s put the girl in danger. Bloody Torchwood. “Okay," he says. "Hold on. Getting my identification card now.” The Doctor holds up one hand, palm out. He carefully, slowly, slides the other hand into his pocket for the psychic paper. He pulls out the wallet and flips it open.

They want your ship, want to know how it works. And they want you. They want to take you apart and see what’s inside, how your clock ticks. They’ve never seen nothing like you in the ‘verse. They scanned you, they know you have a binary vascular system. The voice in his head trembles between wonder and sorrow. Twice as many hearts to break.

Walrus reaches out for the wallet, his eyes like stone. Carpenter stands rigid, arms clasped behind his back, and the third man still has the weapon trained on the Doctor. Walrus’s fingertips brush the edge of the wallet when River screams inside the Doctor’s head. They don’t care about the ident card. Don’t matter what it says, they’re gonna take you away, nothing you can do to stop them. We gotta go!

The Doctor’s hand freezes in midair, his gaze fixed on Walrus. When he speaks, his voice is low and dangerous, each word boils with anger. “It’s a bloody shame the Independents didn’t win the Unification War. You lot with your experiments and greed and supremacy are a disgrace to Earth, then and now.” The Doctor shakes his head in disgust. He doesn’t wait for Torchwood’s reaction. Instead, he takes a hurried step backward toward the TARDIS, and then another. River already has the door open; she dashes inside.

Walrus and Carpenter pull out their own guns. The Doctor takes a deep breath, calculating distance and trajectory. He can’t remember what type of weapons 26th century Alliance uses. Not particle guns. Not laser. The Browncoats prefer bullets. But this is Torchwood, so there’s no way to know until one of them pulls the trigger. Still, he’s been lucky before. The Doctor does the only thing he can.

He runs.

There’s a jumble of shouts as the Time Lord races for the door. The dirt jumps near his left boot and then he’s inside his ship, safe. Relief floods through him.

"Ha! Safe! They’ll never get in.”

River stands in front of the console, a look of wonderment on her face. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she whispers. She turns a radiant smile on the Doctor, enchanted.

“It’s a magic box. Small on the outside, big on the inside, just like me.” Her eyes go wide and her smile turns beatific. “She’s talking to me. I can hear her in my head.”

The Doctor moves to her side. His smile is melancholy. “She’s saying hello.” The saddest word in the universe.  He tries to wave his fingers at River in a friendly manner, but his hand seems to be extremely heavy. His legs aren’t working quite right either. His smile falls and he leans against the console, both hands holding him up. There’s something wrong.

A voice booms from outside. “Come out of the shed immediately.” Carpenter’s using a loud hailer.

“I’m sorry,” the Doctor says, trying to focus on River, "but we need to run away now. I’m not taking you hostage, I promise. I’ll bring you right back. Lickety-split.”

River doesn’t appear to be the least bit concerned. “Can we go to the edge of the black?” she asks excitedly. “I want to touch a star. Make a wish.”

“I don’t recommend touching a star,” the Doctor manages, “but we can look all you like. Assuming we make tracks. Skedaddle. Vamoose." He rolls the last word around in his mouth, not sure if he likes the taste of it or not. He presses a blinking button, taps a few typewriter keys. He points to an old fashioned crank pencil sharpener. “Can you crank that handle 'round four times? No, five.”

River promptly steps up to the yellow handle and follows the Doctor’s instructions. When she's done, her hands slides gently over the console, exploring. She turns to the Doctor, and her face clouds. She peers at him, forehead furrowed.

“You’re shiny.”

He’s pretty sure "shiny” is slang for good or cool during this era. Ergo, bow ties are shiny. Although it’s hard to hear with the sudden roaring in his ears. It’s like standing in the midst of a herd of antephants. It’s possible River said he was “slimy.” But since he hasn't been swallowed by a giant space whale recently, he decides on the former.

“Thank you.” His lips are made of stone. His tongue is dust. His head is collapsing like a dying star. He struggles for rational thought in the fog of his mind and finally realizes the truth. Stupid, stupid Doctor. He didn’t escape Walrus and Carpenter as easily as he thought. He’s been shot.

“No,” River says, and plucks a thin silver dart out of his arm, just below his shoulder. It resembles a large needle. She holds it up. “See? Shiny.”

In the distance, approximately several thousand light years away, the time rotor begins to rise and fall. The Doctor wants to tell River he’s sorry. He wants to tell her not to be afraid, that everything’s going to be right as rain. He opens his mouth, but before he can concentrate on excavating the proper words, the floor rushes up to meet him and then there’s nothing at all.

* * *

He doesn’t need to sleep often. Truth be told, he avoids it. When he’s asleep there’s no clever wordplay, no problems to solve, no monsters to poke with a stick. There’s nothing but a noose of memories waiting patiently in the dark. The Doctor wants to wake up. He commands himself to open his eyes, but the drug is still in his body, and his eyelids are lead.

He can see them now. Rose, calling his name from a silent black and white TV screen. Jack Harkness kissing (another) him goodbye. Martha screaming as she’s kidnapped from the slums of New Earth. Donna lying unconscious in his arms, her grandfather looking on in horror. Amy asking what is the point of you? when Rory dies in Dreamy Time Leadworth. The Master’s eyes boring into his, Will it stop, Doctor? The drumming? Will it stop?

The Doctor wills his hands to move, his head to turn, but nothing happens. He doesn't want to think of the Master. Or the abandoned distress signal boxes back on House. There's no chance of forgiveness now. The memories of the war, of everything and everyone he's lost, are coming. Waiting. Well, he'll pass on that lot, thanks. It was bad enough living through it the first time, he's not about to play Scene It? Time Lord edition. The Doctor reaches out blindly, searching for the psychic link with his ship. His beautiful, magnificent TARDIS. Oi! Wake me up, you! Right now!

The TARDIS pitches, and the Doctor feels himself slide across the floor, and then his head connects with the base of the console. Pain blooms in his skull, sending dark tendrils down his neck and into his back. His eyes flicker open. He grins.

"Thank you, Miss Sexy," he whispers. His ship is his true companion. He’d be lost without her, in every sense of the word. He rubs at his bruised head and rolls onto his side. He stares in surprise at the pair of bare feet in front of his face.

River bends at the waist and brushes the fringe from his forehead. "Are you all right?"

"I will be," he says through lips that still feel slightly numb. "I think."

He can still hear voices, only they're no longer inside his head. He looks about cautiously.

"What is that?"

River smiles. "Oh, that’s Simon. And Captain Mal. I sent Serenity a wave. They want to say hi."

The Doctor pushes himself into a sitting position and groans. "Right. I suppose they’re worried. Of course. Let’s have a look-see then, shall we?" He pauses, his brain catching up with the girl’s words. "You contacted your ship? How did you...I mean, there’s no way..." He stares at her blankly. "You what?"

River shrugs and helps him to his feet. "I used trilaterization to work out where Serenity would be based on our location versus Persephone. Then I did a scan for Serenity’s signal and sent a wave."

The Doctor finds himself at a momentary loss for words, a unique situation indeed. Can everyone named River fly his ship? Eventually his brain comes up with a suitable response. "But...that’s impossible."

River shakes her head and strokes the console in an affection manner. "Wasn’t. I got stuck and the TARDIS gave me a hint."

The Doctor nods slowly. He contemplates exactly what this means. River has an inherent understanding of how the TARDIS works, more so than any human should be able to comprehend. And that? Is beautiful. He smiles.

"She did, did she? She’s taken quite a shine to you, then." The Doctor bows slightly, which turns out to be a mistake, as he nearly falls over. "Uh. And so have I," he mumbles, reaching for the console.

The Doctor comes face to face with the communication screen. Four faces stare back at him, three of which look extremely annoyed. A young man with tidy black hair and a black eye glowers at the Doctor, arms folded stiffly across his chest. An older man with unkempt brown hair and braces regards the Doctor coldly, hands hooked in his front pockets. A fresh bruise blooms pink across the man’s cheek and his lip is split. A third man wearing a chin full of stubble and a cross between a smirk and a scowl appears to be arguing with a pretty brown-haired girl. She’s wearing a long-sleeved tunic accented with a cherry blossom pattern. A smudge of dirt or grease marks the young woman’s forehead.

River points to the screen. "That’s Simon." She smiles proudly at the dark-hared man with the bruised face.

Simon’s glare is quickly replaced with a look of trepidation, then fear. "Please mei-mei," he begs. "We’ll be there in a few hours. We’ll come get you, okay?"

River ignores her brother’s pleading and points to the remaining faces. The surly looking bloke with braces is Captain Mal Reynolds, the one resembling a thug is Jayne, the smiling girl is Kaylee.

Mal glares at Simon. "I told you Simon. Unless you’re in charge, and I think I’m safe in sayin’ that you are not, we can’t just up and-"

Simon’s face colours with fury. "We should have left Persephone the minute I told you something was wrong. I knew it. Didn’t I tell you? And now look at the gos se we’re in. She’s been captured.” Simon takes a threatening step toward the Captain. “If anything happens to her it’s on your head."

Mal’s smile is icy. "Ain’t gonna be nothing on my head but my pretty hair. You best be keeping your mouth shut unless you’re wanting a close-up view of the airlock."

Jayne looks hopeful. "If she’s been kidnapped, can’t we just let her go, Mal? Good riddance, I say." To River he adds, "No offence."

"Hullo." The Doctor wiggles his fingers and puts on his smiliest smile. "I did not kidnap your friend River. She is not a hostage. No one’s been snatched by the bogeyman." He waves an arm around the room. "One hundred percent hostage-free area, this."

River points to the Doctor. "This here’s the Captain," she beams. "He’s a Time Lord."

"What’s a Time Lord?" Mal demands. "That some fancy way of saying Alliance? We appropriated that girl from you bun tyen-shung duh ee-dway-ro before. I have a powerful feeling we can do it again."

"I’m not a Captain," the Doctor says quickly. "I’m the Doctor."

This seems to make Simon even more agitated. "What kind of doctor?" He steps closer to the screen, eyes blazing. He jabs a finger toward the Doctor. "If you so much as touch a hair on my sister’s head, I will make you wish you had never been born."

River frowns at the Doctor. "You got a ship. You fly it. That makes you a captain. The Captain of the TARDIS."

The Time Lord gives River a quick nod. "Yes, yes, I see your point, but my name is actually the Doctor." He turns back to Simon. "And no harm will come to River’s hair. I promise. The rest of her is safe as well."
River giggles, charmed.

Simon’s eyebrows draw together. A vein in his forehead throbs. "Are you mocking me?"

Kaylee puts a restraining arm on Simon’s shoulder. "She can take care of herself, Simon. If she can take down a whole passel of Reavers, I don’t see what one spindly doc’s gonna do to her." She shrugs. "She can go all ninjafied on him."

The Doctor rubs the back of neck. Spindly? Ninjafied? At least Amy just has Rory. River Tam seems to have an entire crew looking out for her.

"Wasn’t the Alliance," River tells Mal. "It was Torchwood. And they didn’t want me." She nods her head toward the Doctor. "They wanted the Captain."

"That would be the Doctor," the Time Lord clarifies loudly.

Simon and Mal exchange a glance. "When I was in one of the blackout zones," Simon reveals, "there was talk about an elite underground task force of some kind. A branch of the Alliance, but completely autonomous. I’m pretty sure it was called Torchwood."

"And what exactly does this ‘Torchwood’ do?" Mal asks.

"Monitor illegal air ships, apparently. I’m not sure what else."

Mal squints at the Doctor. "You runnin’ your ship without core containment? Why’d Torchwood be interested in you?"

"I’m not entirely human," the Doctor explains. "And when I say ‘entirely,’ I mean I’m not human at all."

Jayne stares. "So what does that make you?" He scratches behind one ear. "Some kinda hologram?” He considers. “Or maybe a robot.”

The Doctor throws his hands up in frustration. "I am an alien. I am a Time Lord." His smile grows strained and his voice echoes around the control room. "I am the Doctor, not the Captain. This is my ship. River and I were accosted by Torchwood, who, by the way, I have dealt with before. They are, as my new friend put it so aptly, black-hearted. I had the choice of leaving River there to face them on her own, or to protect her."

Simon frowns. "If you’ve seen them before then why-"

"No," the Doctor thunders. "This is my turn to talk. I have not harmed River. I do not plan to harm her. All I want to do is fix my ship, go back to Earth, and pick up Amy and Rory. I’ll be more than happy to return your friend, as long as you all stop talking." The Doctor’s glare dwarfs Simon’s.

A tall Amazon-like black woman pokes her head in front of the screen. "It seems to me, that’s the point River was tryin’ to make before everyone went fong luh."

Mal grimaces. "Did I ask for you opinion, Zoe?"

Zoe smiles faintly. "No, sir. But I’m not sure the Doctor’s impressed with the quality of yours." She lifts an eyebrow. "Sir."

River touches the Doctor’s arm tentatively. "But I want to stay here."

Simon’s mouth drops open. "What?"

The Doctor turns to the girl. "What?"

Jayne beams. "Finally. This here’s a turn of events I can get behind."

"You’re gonna get a compression coil up your behind if you don’t shut your gorram mouth," Kaylee hisses at Jayne.

River steps forward, hands folded as if in prayer. "Simon. He’s a reader, like me. He can help me control my abilities. And his ship." She smiles and the look on her face brings tears to her brother’s eyes. "She’s...beautiful. She sings to me, Simon. She’s gonna sing me to sleep every night. No more nightmares."

Simon blinks. "I’m...I’m glad you like it there, River. But...you don’t have anyone to take care of you." He clears his throat. "It’s my job to take care of you," he says in a near whisper.

River wipes her own eyes. "I know, Simon. And no one takes care of me better than you. But it’s time I learned to take care of myself. Just to see what it’s like. I can’t stay a child forever, Simon." She regards him tenderly. "Even if you want me to."

"Don't know why not," the Doctor mutters to himself. "I certainly intend to."

Simon shakes his head vehemently. "No. No, mei-mei. I don’t want you stay a child. I want you to grow up and be the amazing person you are. There’s no one as smart or good or kind as you in the whole ‘verse, River. No one."

River grins. "That’s where you’re wrong, Simon. Captain Doctor is smarter than me! He can teach me about things-show me things--I never knew existed. You don’t want to take that away from me, do you?"

A tear rolls down Simon’s face, unchecked. "That’s not fair, River."

Mal clears his throat. "Before we all break out the hankies and start wavin’ fare-thee-well, I’ve got a few questions for the Doctor." Captain Reynolds ticks them off on his hand. "One, you said you was goin’ to Earth. Either you’re on drops or fresh from a bughouse, because Earth-that-was is long gone. Two, what exactly do you mean by ‘alien’? You got green skin under that fancy get-up?" The Captain watches the Doctor steadily. "An’ three. River says she wants to travel with you. Now that’s fine and dandy, but you ain’t said diddly on the matter. Are you lookin’ for company? What need does a man such as yourself have for an albatross?"

The Doctor smiles, impressed by Mal’s questions. "You aren’t nearly as thick as you look, my dear Captain. Those are excellent questions! And I must say, the braces are a very nice touch. Have you ever considered wearing a bow tie? It really completes the look. In answer to your question: Yes. The Earth is most certainly still around. You humans are a hale and hardy lot, you survive that nasty plague of 2310 and rebuild. Well done, you. Earth’s going to be causing trouble for quite some time. Also, I’m a genius." He taps his head. "Plenty going on up here. No stimulants, no drugs. Unless you count tea. I do enjoy a good cuppa now and again. Although I have spent some time in an asylum. A complete mix-up, of course. Quite amusing upon retrospection. Very funny story, let me tell you. Only, I’m not going to just now. Maybe later.

"Next, aliens come in a variety of colors and shapes, I’ll have you know. I happen to resemble you lot. I am of course, far superior."

"So you keep sayin’," Mal responds dryly.

"He has two hearts," River adds.

Mal looks surprised. "Now that’s somethin’ new."

Simon blinks. "A binary vascular system? That’s incredible."

"Yes, well, it does come in handy," the Doctor agrees. "Now. As for River." He looks at the girl for a long moment without speaking. She can help him with the ship. She’s not the best conversationalist he’s ever had, but she’s brilliant, and he could help her. He would like to help her very much. He can feel the years of loneliness around her like a fog, and loneliness is something he knows a thing or ten about. It would be nice to have someone keep him company. At least until he gets back to the Ponds. Making his mind up, he nods at Mal.

"As Captains, we both know an albatross is a sign of good luck.” The Doctor directs his gaze back to River. “I would be honored to have you as my traveling companion."

"Your what?" Simon demands, his face going red.

"You’re such a boob," River tells her brother blandly. "You know what he means."

The Doctor rubs his chin. "Ah. Yes." He chuckles nervously. "Whoops. My bad. When I say ‘companion’ my meaning is somewhat different than the current connotation."

"I should hope so," Simon mutters darkly.

The Doctor claps his hands together. "Okay. Even though River is going to travel with me, she won’t be gone long. My ship travels in space and time, so we'll be back before you know it. And we'll keep in touch. And by ‘we’, I mean ‘River.’ She can wave you whenever we’re in range."

Zoe steps into view again, her voice completely neutral. "Excuse me Doctor. Did you say time travel?"

"I did indeed." The Doctor turns from the screen. "Now, River?"

"Yes Captain?"

The Doctor sighs. At least it’s better than Martian Boy or Spaceman. "Do you still want to make that wish?"

River’s face shines. "I surely do."

The Doctor salutes the screen. "Nice to meet you. Talk to you soon and all that. Bless."

"Wait just a gorram minute-" Mal huffs, and the Doctor cups a hand to his ear.

"What was that? Eh? Bit of interference, here. So sorry." He pulls a white handkerchief from his pocket and waves it with a flourish. "Fare thee well, Captain." He nods at Simon. "You’ve a fantastic sister. So long!" he grins and shuts the view screen off. He turns to River and mops his brow with the cloth. "Good Lord! You have quite the entourage, don’t you?"

River nods. "They can be a bit...cumbersome." She bounces on her toes, her eyes focused on the doors. "Can we see the stars now?"

The Doctor reaches for a lever. "We’re on our way."

Notes:
mei-mei = little sister
gos se = dog excrement
bun tyen-shung duh ee-dway-ro = stupid inbred stack of meat
fong luh = loopy in the head