Challenge response: Doctor Who
Title: Alone Again
Author: shaviva
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Minor, Forest of the Dead, Night and the Doctor - Last Night, The Angels Take Manhattan
Characters: Eleventh Doctor, River Song
Word count: 475 (according to Microsoft Word)
Author's Note: Written for the prompt 'Almost' on who_contest
Summary: Against all the odds he’d almost had his unspoken dreams realised. Almost. Coming so close made what he knew had to happen all the more heart wrenching.
**************
Alone Again
Closing the TARDIS door, the Doctor leaned back against it, his posture weary and sad.
It was done - Darillium. He’d just dropped River off at home for the last time.
Pushing away from the door, the Doctor took the black top hat off his head and glanced at it. His screwdriver was in his hand before he registered the sudden surge of anger. Tossing the hat high he sent out a beam of sonic energy, obliterating it to nothingness. Lowering his 'weapon' he blew the imaginary smoke off - consciously emulating River, who’d approve both that action and the destruction of another hat. Although … he suspected she’d rather liked his tuxedoed form, hat included, judging by her reaction when she’d seen him.
“You do know that looking so dapper just makes a girl want to …,” she’d leaned closer and purred, “muss you up.”
He’d gulped and stuttered and been far too awkward in his usual manner and she’d laughed, enjoying flustering him as always.
The Doctor laughed at the memory. If the tail end of his mirth sounded like sobs cut off before they could take hold … well, there was no one there to witness it. He’d already lost the Ponds and now he was truly alone ... again.
This him, the one who loved River more than he could bring himself to admit, could take no responsibility for her fate. Tomorrow she’d go to The Library and she wouldn’t come back.
He felt completely responsible.
His tenth incarnation’s actions had been guided by a man with no appreciation of who River would be but those actions had locked in an ending. After more than two hundred years the Doctor hadn’t found a way to save her without rewriting their entire history and causing a string of paradoxes across all of space and time. He’d have done it, that and more, but he knew River too well. Even if it worked she’d never forgive him and he’d lose her anyway. Now he was out of time.
He never got to keep them … the Doctor's companions. He'd been resigned to the truth of his existence since Gallifrey fell. This time it was different. Deep down he'd started to hope. River wasn't human, not completely; maybe not as much as she made out. She had an almost Timelord intellect, she could absorb regeneration energy safely, she aged very slowly ... eventually he'd have convinced her the TARDIS could handle as many psychopaths as they wanted to throw at her.
River had the capability to be his companion for all time ... or at least a very large part of it. Against all the odds he’d almost had his unspoken dreams realised. No more returning to alone-ness - to darkness after heady days of light.
Almost.
He'd resign himself to this too ... one day.
Author: shaviva
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Minor, Forest of the Dead, Night and the Doctor - Last Night, The Angels Take Manhattan
Characters: Eleventh Doctor, River Song
Word count: 475 (according to Microsoft Word)
Author's Note: Written for the prompt 'Almost' on who_contest
Summary: Against all the odds he’d almost had his unspoken dreams realised. Almost. Coming so close made what he knew had to happen all the more heart wrenching.
**************
Alone Again
Closing the TARDIS door, the Doctor leaned back against it, his posture weary and sad.
It was done - Darillium. He’d just dropped River off at home for the last time.
Pushing away from the door, the Doctor took the black top hat off his head and glanced at it. His screwdriver was in his hand before he registered the sudden surge of anger. Tossing the hat high he sent out a beam of sonic energy, obliterating it to nothingness. Lowering his 'weapon' he blew the imaginary smoke off - consciously emulating River, who’d approve both that action and the destruction of another hat. Although … he suspected she’d rather liked his tuxedoed form, hat included, judging by her reaction when she’d seen him.
“You do know that looking so dapper just makes a girl want to …,” she’d leaned closer and purred, “muss you up.”
He’d gulped and stuttered and been far too awkward in his usual manner and she’d laughed, enjoying flustering him as always.
The Doctor laughed at the memory. If the tail end of his mirth sounded like sobs cut off before they could take hold … well, there was no one there to witness it. He’d already lost the Ponds and now he was truly alone ... again.
This him, the one who loved River more than he could bring himself to admit, could take no responsibility for her fate. Tomorrow she’d go to The Library and she wouldn’t come back.
He felt completely responsible.
His tenth incarnation’s actions had been guided by a man with no appreciation of who River would be but those actions had locked in an ending. After more than two hundred years the Doctor hadn’t found a way to save her without rewriting their entire history and causing a string of paradoxes across all of space and time. He’d have done it, that and more, but he knew River too well. Even if it worked she’d never forgive him and he’d lose her anyway. Now he was out of time.
He never got to keep them … the Doctor's companions. He'd been resigned to the truth of his existence since Gallifrey fell. This time it was different. Deep down he'd started to hope. River wasn't human, not completely; maybe not as much as she made out. She had an almost Timelord intellect, she could absorb regeneration energy safely, she aged very slowly ... eventually he'd have convinced her the TARDIS could handle as many psychopaths as they wanted to throw at her.
River had the capability to be his companion for all time ... or at least a very large part of it. Against all the odds he’d almost had his unspoken dreams realised. No more returning to alone-ness - to darkness after heady days of light.
Almost.
He'd resign himself to this too ... one day.