Of Gold Hair And Lightening
Title: Of Gold Hair And Lightening.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: River Song/The Doctor
Rating: PG.
Disclaimer: I own neither Doctor Who
A/N: Sort of the first part of I Am Living Painted In Flames it's been ignored on my laptop for well over a year.
"What if the storm ends?
And I don't see you
As you are now
Ever again.
The perfect halo
Of gold hair and lightening
Sets you off against
The planets last dance,
Just for a minute
The silver-forked sky
Lifts you up like a star
That I will follow,
But now it's found us
I don't wanna run
Just overwhelm me."
~ Snow Patrol 'What if the Storm Ends?'
The Doctor came when she called, just as he always would.
He followed the co-ordinated to a planet, a half planet. One half drifting in deep space and all that was left of the other was expired continents orbiting a dying sun.
The suface of the planet was shiny, with the constant onslaught of lightening creating great glass sculptures, their delicate arms reaching out into the sky as if seeking salvation.
River stood, a solitary figure at the edge of the world as she stared out into the dark void with her back to the glowing pit of hideous orange - that chased the night away - and from the one man who understood the terrible carnage she had been unable to prevent.
Lightening struck the defenceless ground with brutal force, the glass towers shattering musically only to rise again with the next bolt.
He walked slowly around the edge of the burning pit, this shards of scattered glass crunching underfoot, the heat splitting the ends of his hair, until he could see her clearly.
She burned brighter than the dying sun, her golden hair glowing like a sinister halo. It was painful to look at, but he couldn't avert his eyes, wouldn't shy away from her secret tears.
The shake of shoulders could have been mistaken for the shadow of flickering flames licking her skin of the way the hot air smudged her silhouette like oil on a lens, but he knew the illusion to be what it was, a means to stay hidden, to survive.
He whispered her name, his love and fear for her reaching though the space between them. And as if his breath was enough to push her of the end of the world she dropped forward her arms open wide in relief.
He dashed forward hopelessly, his hearts plummeting along with her as he watched her twist as she fell with the beauty of someone born to it.
Unable to stop himself he smiled at the falling Child of the TARDIS as the familiar blue box materialized beneath her and he caught sight of himself opening the door to catch her.
...
He slipped across the glass spire, skidded under their crystal arms. Lightening forked down around him, shards of blasted sand tinkled down on him as he skipped into his ship, kicking the door shut as he bounced over to the console.
With a tweak of the co-ordinates, and some soft words of endearment to his beloved Sexy when her hum became an urgent rumble at crossing time-lines, he prayed for his timing to be perfect.
In an instance he was at the doors pulling them open with rough determination and letting them swing open.
For a second time he was instantly entranced by her, the fabric of her dress fluttering up between her legs in ragged tendrils and smoothing along the whole outline of her.
He winked at his other-self as he braced himself, ready as always to catch her.
They crashed to the floor in a tangle of legs and nude, ash-stained chiffon, her soft curls covering his face. She smelled smoky and he could feel the trace of heat from the fire where his hand rested low on her back.
He whispered her name, again. Something deep in his stomach wrenched with fear as though she could fall out of his arms even as they lay safe in his ship.
River said nothing as she turned her face into the side of his neck, her skin sticky with the residue of salt. He let the mutual silence cloak them as the TARDIS sailed them back into the relative safety of the vortex.