empress (of the lost)

[brainpanned]

who: river and doctor
what: forgiveness?
when: aug. 8
where: Bluebird
rating: G?
status: incomplete

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[brainpanned]

Ironically, some of the most twisted images were the most recent. The visit with the dragon - River had been so happy then, absorbing everything she saw into her mental hard drive. His memories of the Doctor. Of War. [So much sadness in the way he moves his hands...the way he smiles but really doesn't...]

It hurt the most to realize just how many memories had been so easily forgotten. Her and Simon [she is eight years old] sitting in their living room and arguing about who made the biggest impact on modern physics [Albert Einstein or Isaac Newton? River argues the former and Simon only concedes when River begins crying and Daddy tells him to stop upsetting his little sister.]

Outside, River sniffled and made a quiet gasping sound. Inside, she numbly put the image aside and retreated farther and farther - until something she sensed made her blood run cold. Doctor - - that - - is not mine.

It felt tangible, like a computer program, like something hardwired to every cell of her being. And it wasn't hers it wasn't hers! River clawed

[xx_doctorwho_xx]

"River," the Doctor warned, his whole body tensed. "You need to stop now," he said softly. "Look at your book, think of the dragons and the peace you felt with Galreth. Reach for that, River, not for me, not right now."

[brainpanned]

When River lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes had once more attained the unfocused thoughtfulness she classified as "typical." She smiled wide and dropped her head to one side - the image of a confused (but blissful) puppy. It was incredible - and more than a little sad - how quickly she was able to lose clarity.

"How many colors are there in a C'tharas rainbow?" she asked dreamily. "Saw it in his head but couldn't count the stripes. The spectrum was undetectable. Why do you always wear suits? How many do you have? This information is quintessential, Doctor."

[xx_doctorwho_xx]

The Doctor sighed. River had disappeared into a safe corner of her mind, and he was to blame.

"Thirty-seven colors, though you'd be hard pressed to see the majority of them. I like suits, they suit me," he grinned. "Used to wear a stalk of celery on the jacket, so glad I outgrew that phase," he said, tugging on his earlobe. "Honestly, who wears a vegetable on their coat?"

Shaking himself out of his nostalgia he continued. "Nine suits, one for every day of the week. Well, not an Earth week, but a week nonetheless."

[brainpanned]

"Thirty-seven..." River repeated the number and began to scribble something on the back of a found paper with a found pen. She made a "tsk" noise and stared at what she had written. "That's not a good number. Neither is nine. It's imperfect."

River had - indeed - retreated someplace safe. Doctor was upset with her for seeing things. Hurting him. She couldn't handle that added shame.

"I can take these with me?" She made a gesture at the books she had picked out before.

[xx_doctorwho_xx]

The Doctor smiled sadly. "Yeah, you can take them with you. Just don't forget to bring them back."

There was something infinitely sad about the whole situation. The Doctor could see who River was, who she had been and who she could be. But there were so many variables between here and there that made his head spin and his hearts ache.