Fic: Letters & good wizards.
Title: Letters & good wizards.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: (G)
Time Period: During River's life.
Summary: It's a square.
Author's Note: This is quick ‘n’ dirty (for definition see the F. A. Q.).
This is late, I know, but it's here now.
Disclaimer
All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of the BBC & Steven Moffat; I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by them.
_______________________
He didn't write letters the way everyone else did but neither did she; her letters were essays about events that became legends. When the events were studied and analysed, however, they always seemed to be about one person: him.
Putting down her trowel, she straightens and stretches, her hands at the small of her back. She sighs, pain briefly relieved; she'd been bending down for ages, it seemed. She studies the suns, judges how far they are from the horizon and her mind goes back to what she had been thinking about.
Letters.
And him. Her mind always spun around to him. What he was doing, who he was with.
When he was and how he would pop back into her life. Or her into his; there was a 95% chance she could appear in one of his.
There were times she asked herself how sensible was it to fall in love with a Gallifreyan. But there was one thing to take into account: sensible was not a word applied to her. Sensible was a wo---
“Professor Song! Professor Song!”
“Yes Gerald?”
He bends over, hands on his knees to catch his breath. “We f-f-f-”
“What did you find?”
He gulps; she waits. He slowly atraightens. “We found a square.”
An eyebrow raises. “That's it?”
“It's a square, Professor! A. Square.”
She has to be logical which is almost as bad as giving spoilers.
Deliberately.
She didn't want to be logical.
Dammit.
“Gerald, we're excavating a city ...”
“-- with no squares! But we've found a square. A perfect square. Come see!”
She sighs while climbing out of the trench and follows Gerald to the square.
And sees the perfect square with a slight mark in the dirt near it.
“Did,” she asks as she crouches, “anyone live here?”
Gerald frowns thoughtfully. “I think this was the area that legend says a ... wizard,” he looks to her for confirmation; she nods, “lived.”
She feels along the side of the square. “Who advised they needed to defend themselves against the evil that was coming.”
Gerald blinks. “How did you ...”
“Know?” She stands, a lopsided smile gracing her lips. “I'm head of this expedition, remember?”
He blushes. “Of course, Professor Song.”
“This,” she gestures to the square, “is a good find to study. See what you can find here and let me know.”
Gerald nods and she turns away. It's only when she's alone that she looks at what she found: a small chip of paint, the very bluest of blue.
She hates good wizards in stories; they always turn out to be him.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: (G)
Time Period: During River's life.
Summary: It's a square.
Author's Note: This is quick ‘n’ dirty (for definition see the F. A. Q.).
This is late, I know, but it's here now.
Disclaimer
All characters contained herein are the intellectual property of the BBC & Steven Moffat; I am not affiliated with nor endorsed by them.
_______________________
He didn't write letters the way everyone else did but neither did she; her letters were essays about events that became legends. When the events were studied and analysed, however, they always seemed to be about one person: him.
Putting down her trowel, she straightens and stretches, her hands at the small of her back. She sighs, pain briefly relieved; she'd been bending down for ages, it seemed. She studies the suns, judges how far they are from the horizon and her mind goes back to what she had been thinking about.
Letters.
And him. Her mind always spun around to him. What he was doing, who he was with.
When he was and how he would pop back into her life. Or her into his; there was a 95% chance she could appear in one of his.
There were times she asked herself how sensible was it to fall in love with a Gallifreyan. But there was one thing to take into account: sensible was not a word applied to her. Sensible was a wo---
“Professor Song! Professor Song!”
“Yes Gerald?”
He bends over, hands on his knees to catch his breath. “We f-f-f-”
“What did you find?”
He gulps; she waits. He slowly atraightens. “We found a square.”
An eyebrow raises. “That's it?”
“It's a square, Professor! A. Square.”
She has to be logical which is almost as bad as giving spoilers.
Deliberately.
She didn't want to be logical.
Dammit.
“Gerald, we're excavating a city ...”
“-- with no squares! But we've found a square. A perfect square. Come see!”
She sighs while climbing out of the trench and follows Gerald to the square.
And sees the perfect square with a slight mark in the dirt near it.
“Did,” she asks as she crouches, “anyone live here?”
Gerald frowns thoughtfully. “I think this was the area that legend says a ... wizard,” he looks to her for confirmation; she nods, “lived.”
She feels along the side of the square. “Who advised they needed to defend themselves against the evil that was coming.”
Gerald blinks. “How did you ...”
“Know?” She stands, a lopsided smile gracing her lips. “I'm head of this expedition, remember?”
He blushes. “Of course, Professor Song.”
“This,” she gestures to the square, “is a good find to study. See what you can find here and let me know.”
Gerald nods and she turns away. It's only when she's alone that she looks at what she found: a small chip of paint, the very bluest of blue.
She hates good wizards in stories; they always turn out to be him.