The Museum of Love
Title: The Museum of Love
Author: betawho
Rating: PG
Characters: River Song, 11th Doctor (mentions of 2nd Doctor)
Words: 1466
(Author's Note: This story is a result of these prompts.)
Summary: While working as an archeologist, River discovers a number of mysterious notes on various artifacts. Notes meant for her...
River had accompanied the artifacts to the museum. Someone of the dig had to be on hand during transport in case of accidents. And besides, she couldn't let anyone else find the note.
It had first started on Telos. She'd been helping with the excavations of the Cybermen's Tomb. And wouldn't the Doctor have a fit if he found out about that? But it was part of her research for her expanded dissertation, for her professorship. He'd been there when it was uncovered.
Besides, she'd been careful. She'd introduced a neuro-electric toxin to the Cybermen's freezing units. Even if some madman did decide to try to revive them again, all he'd find were a bunch of brain-dead popsickles. Anatomically interesting, but not dangerous.
But that's where she'd found the first note. Scratched into the side of the main control console in the first room, far in the corner, low down near the floor. In Gallifreyan script, barely legible. "I miss you all." And signed with the Doctor's name.
Not his title. His name.
She had volunteered to accompany the parts to the museum. They had all been carefully packed, cataloged, and stringently tied down. She'd overseen each step. There hadn't been any opportunity to steal that incriminating piece. There were too many people around, the dig was too high profile for things to conveniently go missing.
So she'd accompanied them to the museum. Things were always going missing in museums. The back storage rooms of museums were a more effective graveyard than any pyramid.
And that's where she'd found the second note.
The art gallery was proudly sponsoring an exhibition by the famous Earth artist, Vincent Van Gogh. She'd toured the whole museum. After all, who could resist? All that history, all that art. Beautiful things everywhere she looked. It was one of the perks of the job.
There, in a painting of a vase of sunflowers, she'd smiled to see her mother's name written in Van Gogh's handwriting. "For Amy." And as her eyes flowed across the image, they were snagged by a squiggling line among the greenery on the left. She tilted her head, she squinted, she looked around, then pulled out a square magnifying glass and studied the leaves.
Along the edge of the leaves, in tiny tiny writing, were the words, "Seek the fish with teeth that doesn't blink." And this time, it was signed with the Gallifreyan sigil for "Doctor."
She snapped her magnifying glass shut and grinned like a maniac. Her heart was drawing her up on her toes, it was so light, and her veins felt full of champagne. A quest.
Better. She licked her lips. A flirt.
"Did you find something interesting, dear?" A woman patron asked behind her, the elderly woman leaned around her and looked at the image of the sunflowers. Wondering what had been worthy of a magnifying glass.
River felt like her cheeks were about to split from grinning. She slipped her magnifying glass back in her beltpouch. She waved a hand. "My mother's name was Amy," she said airily.
The white haired old woman twinkled merry blue eyes up at her. "That's a happy coincidence then."
River grinned, twirling to survey the bounty of the museum spread out before her. "Isn't it?"
Now. Where to find a grinning fish with all of history and art to look through? Feeling her toes tingle and her face blushing with excitement, she headed for Natural History.
-
Well, she slapped her notebook against her thigh, there wasn't anything in the Sharks section. River looked around at all the informative displays in the Ichthyology Wing. Stuffed fish, live fish in tanks, a whole wall that made up a section of living coral reef. A busload of excited school children oohing and aahing as they pressed their noses to the glass.
She smiled reflexively and rethought. There were any number of fish species with teeth. And most fish didn't have eyelids, so they didn't blink. Didn't blink. She stopped and came abruptly to attention.
Don't blink! Could he be telling her there were Weeping Angels in the museum? She stared around at all the displays, the floors and floors of frescoes and statues. Her heart sank. She scrabbled out her computer and did a quick scan, turning a full circle, ignoring the puzzled looks of the patrons and children.
There weren't any unusual temporal fluctuations, neither too much temporal radiation, nor too little. But that only meant the Angels weren't feeding right now.
She stuffed her computer back in her pouch and ran for the visitor's desk.
A few minutes of flirting and seemingly random conversation brought the welcome news that no one had disappeared in the museum that day. Nor for the last several days. Children separated from parents, but nothing more.
Nor were there any special displays of angels. Or new deliveries of angel statues.
She sighed out with relief. So, not Weeping Angels then. She stepped aside as a mother and son stepped up to ask where the lavatories were. She casually perused the rack of pamphlets that advertised the current special exhibits in the museum.
She smiled and took one that depicted Amy's Sunflowers. She folded it carefully and put it in her diary. So, not Angels then. What else? Something to do with the Doctor. A fish that doesn't blink. A stone fish?
Her eyes were drawn to the pamphlet next to the one about Van Gogh. It was about the History of Venice.
-
It took her 18 hours. Working all through the night, fortunately the museum was open 24 hours, or she'd have had to break in.
The man was nefarious. She'd found the "stone fish with teeth" in the Venice hall, where they'd recreated part of the city that had sunk beneath the waves centuries ago. The information card on the fish statue had said it was carved by a man who's name translated as "Sun in Leaves" in Venetian.
She'd thought he was sending her back to the Sunflowers painting. (Which would be just like him.) But considering it was written in Venetian, she'd decided to take a second look around.
In a medallion depicting the heraldic emblem of Seniora Calviari, a patron of the city, she found a small diptych sundial.
The sundial was two flat metal "leaves" hinged together, the size of a pocketwatch, Elaborately carved. When flipped up, the two halves were connected at right angles, by a diagonal piece of string, which worked as the tongue on a sundial.
It was but the work of a moment to liberate the piece from its display cabinet and take it over to the window. The sunlight fell on the string, she turned it to orient both shadows on the center of the hinge, and that's when she noticed the notations. The declinations for the solar hours were off.
A few quick mathematical calculations quickly reduced the answer to "42."
She grinned. And headed off for the Douglas Adams exhibit.
From there, the clues led her all over the museum. Art, Natural History, Ancient History, Literature, Cosmic Science, (That had been one of her favorites, "Look for the horse you can't saddle." The Horsehead Nebula.) There had even been one that depended on knowing what kinds of substances were used to make Egyptian perfume. (Playing Cleopatra had come in handy.)
She had enjoyed it all immensely. She hadn't had this much fun in ages. Not that she'd forgive him for the History of Macrame clue anytime soon. How did he find out she could read Khipu? He must have visited Ancient South America at some point. She'd have to get that story out of him.
-
But now, here she was back in the Art section. "The answer lies with an alabaster bum." The problem was, this was a museum. There were a lot of alabaster bums. She stared around at all the nude statues.
Well, at least it will be entertaining to look. She flipped her hair with a happy flirt and decided to be methodical. No point in wasting a perfectly good excuse.
She finally found it, standing on a pedestal by the door at the opposite side of the hall.
Rodin's "The Kiss." There, written boldly on the woman's left buttock, glowing faintly in invisible psychic ink, were the words, "Spoilers Sweetie!"
River's eyes flowed up over the lines of the tall, alabaster statue. The man's hand on the woman's hip, the woman reclining, one arm tight around his neck in that last breathless instant before a kiss.
"Spoilers? Oh, I don't think so, honey," she grinned, wondering where he was in their relationship.
A pair of long arms slid around her waist from behind. Her nerves jangled with surprise. A warm, familiar pair of lips brushed her ear.
"Are you sure?"
Author: betawho
Rating: PG
Characters: River Song, 11th Doctor (mentions of 2nd Doctor)
Words: 1466
(Author's Note: This story is a result of these prompts.)
Summary: While working as an archeologist, River discovers a number of mysterious notes on various artifacts. Notes meant for her...
River had accompanied the artifacts to the museum. Someone of the dig had to be on hand during transport in case of accidents. And besides, she couldn't let anyone else find the note.
It had first started on Telos. She'd been helping with the excavations of the Cybermen's Tomb. And wouldn't the Doctor have a fit if he found out about that? But it was part of her research for her expanded dissertation, for her professorship. He'd been there when it was uncovered.
Besides, she'd been careful. She'd introduced a neuro-electric toxin to the Cybermen's freezing units. Even if some madman did decide to try to revive them again, all he'd find were a bunch of brain-dead popsickles. Anatomically interesting, but not dangerous.
But that's where she'd found the first note. Scratched into the side of the main control console in the first room, far in the corner, low down near the floor. In Gallifreyan script, barely legible. "I miss you all." And signed with the Doctor's name.
Not his title. His name.
She had volunteered to accompany the parts to the museum. They had all been carefully packed, cataloged, and stringently tied down. She'd overseen each step. There hadn't been any opportunity to steal that incriminating piece. There were too many people around, the dig was too high profile for things to conveniently go missing.
So she'd accompanied them to the museum. Things were always going missing in museums. The back storage rooms of museums were a more effective graveyard than any pyramid.
And that's where she'd found the second note.
The art gallery was proudly sponsoring an exhibition by the famous Earth artist, Vincent Van Gogh. She'd toured the whole museum. After all, who could resist? All that history, all that art. Beautiful things everywhere she looked. It was one of the perks of the job.
There, in a painting of a vase of sunflowers, she'd smiled to see her mother's name written in Van Gogh's handwriting. "For Amy." And as her eyes flowed across the image, they were snagged by a squiggling line among the greenery on the left. She tilted her head, she squinted, she looked around, then pulled out a square magnifying glass and studied the leaves.
Along the edge of the leaves, in tiny tiny writing, were the words, "Seek the fish with teeth that doesn't blink." And this time, it was signed with the Gallifreyan sigil for "Doctor."
She snapped her magnifying glass shut and grinned like a maniac. Her heart was drawing her up on her toes, it was so light, and her veins felt full of champagne. A quest.
Better. She licked her lips. A flirt.
"Did you find something interesting, dear?" A woman patron asked behind her, the elderly woman leaned around her and looked at the image of the sunflowers. Wondering what had been worthy of a magnifying glass.
River felt like her cheeks were about to split from grinning. She slipped her magnifying glass back in her beltpouch. She waved a hand. "My mother's name was Amy," she said airily.
The white haired old woman twinkled merry blue eyes up at her. "That's a happy coincidence then."
River grinned, twirling to survey the bounty of the museum spread out before her. "Isn't it?"
Now. Where to find a grinning fish with all of history and art to look through? Feeling her toes tingle and her face blushing with excitement, she headed for Natural History.
-
Well, she slapped her notebook against her thigh, there wasn't anything in the Sharks section. River looked around at all the informative displays in the Ichthyology Wing. Stuffed fish, live fish in tanks, a whole wall that made up a section of living coral reef. A busload of excited school children oohing and aahing as they pressed their noses to the glass.
She smiled reflexively and rethought. There were any number of fish species with teeth. And most fish didn't have eyelids, so they didn't blink. Didn't blink. She stopped and came abruptly to attention.
Don't blink! Could he be telling her there were Weeping Angels in the museum? She stared around at all the displays, the floors and floors of frescoes and statues. Her heart sank. She scrabbled out her computer and did a quick scan, turning a full circle, ignoring the puzzled looks of the patrons and children.
There weren't any unusual temporal fluctuations, neither too much temporal radiation, nor too little. But that only meant the Angels weren't feeding right now.
She stuffed her computer back in her pouch and ran for the visitor's desk.
A few minutes of flirting and seemingly random conversation brought the welcome news that no one had disappeared in the museum that day. Nor for the last several days. Children separated from parents, but nothing more.
Nor were there any special displays of angels. Or new deliveries of angel statues.
She sighed out with relief. So, not Weeping Angels then. She stepped aside as a mother and son stepped up to ask where the lavatories were. She casually perused the rack of pamphlets that advertised the current special exhibits in the museum.
She smiled and took one that depicted Amy's Sunflowers. She folded it carefully and put it in her diary. So, not Angels then. What else? Something to do with the Doctor. A fish that doesn't blink. A stone fish?
Her eyes were drawn to the pamphlet next to the one about Van Gogh. It was about the History of Venice.
-
It took her 18 hours. Working all through the night, fortunately the museum was open 24 hours, or she'd have had to break in.
The man was nefarious. She'd found the "stone fish with teeth" in the Venice hall, where they'd recreated part of the city that had sunk beneath the waves centuries ago. The information card on the fish statue had said it was carved by a man who's name translated as "Sun in Leaves" in Venetian.
She'd thought he was sending her back to the Sunflowers painting. (Which would be just like him.) But considering it was written in Venetian, she'd decided to take a second look around.
In a medallion depicting the heraldic emblem of Seniora Calviari, a patron of the city, she found a small diptych sundial.
The sundial was two flat metal "leaves" hinged together, the size of a pocketwatch, Elaborately carved. When flipped up, the two halves were connected at right angles, by a diagonal piece of string, which worked as the tongue on a sundial.
It was but the work of a moment to liberate the piece from its display cabinet and take it over to the window. The sunlight fell on the string, she turned it to orient both shadows on the center of the hinge, and that's when she noticed the notations. The declinations for the solar hours were off.
A few quick mathematical calculations quickly reduced the answer to "42."
She grinned. And headed off for the Douglas Adams exhibit.
From there, the clues led her all over the museum. Art, Natural History, Ancient History, Literature, Cosmic Science, (That had been one of her favorites, "Look for the horse you can't saddle." The Horsehead Nebula.) There had even been one that depended on knowing what kinds of substances were used to make Egyptian perfume. (Playing Cleopatra had come in handy.)
She had enjoyed it all immensely. She hadn't had this much fun in ages. Not that she'd forgive him for the History of Macrame clue anytime soon. How did he find out she could read Khipu? He must have visited Ancient South America at some point. She'd have to get that story out of him.
-
But now, here she was back in the Art section. "The answer lies with an alabaster bum." The problem was, this was a museum. There were a lot of alabaster bums. She stared around at all the nude statues.
Well, at least it will be entertaining to look. She flipped her hair with a happy flirt and decided to be methodical. No point in wasting a perfectly good excuse.
She finally found it, standing on a pedestal by the door at the opposite side of the hall.
Rodin's "The Kiss." There, written boldly on the woman's left buttock, glowing faintly in invisible psychic ink, were the words, "Spoilers Sweetie!"
River's eyes flowed up over the lines of the tall, alabaster statue. The man's hand on the woman's hip, the woman reclining, one arm tight around his neck in that last breathless instant before a kiss.
"Spoilers? Oh, I don't think so, honey," she grinned, wondering where he was in their relationship.
A pair of long arms slid around her waist from behind. Her nerves jangled with surprise. A warm, familiar pair of lips brushed her ear.
"Are you sure?"