Chapter Text
Tiny windows. No doors. Empty pockets.
Darkness save for the icy blue glow coming from the transmat hub on the floor.
Unceasing solitude.
When she’d said she needed a moment, this wasn’t what the Doctor had meant.
Silence weighed down on her, and if it hadn’t been for the faint hum of electricity keeping the life support systems online she was sure she’d have gone mad from it. Still no form of communication from her jailors and she wasn’t expecting that to change.
At the very best of times she’d never coped well alone.
This was far from the best of times.
On the first Earth standard day (after a number of failed attempts to get near the wiring of the transmat through who knew how many feet of steel and concrete) the Doctor had scoped out her cell. It wasn’t much to look at, but if counting every single bump on the hard surfaces of cold metal helped to keep her mind from other things then why fight it. It was all stuff that might come in handy to know for her grand escape. Her grand escape that she’d definitely get around to any minute now. Just needed to wait for her brain to catch up with her body.
On the third day (or maybe it was the fifth; what meals she was granted via teleport were too erratic count the days by) she allowed herself the luxury of sitting down. Her eyes would drift shut and she would force them to open again. Then she’d studiously ignore the way her breathing had quickened, how her hearts had started to pound. She knew she’d need to rest eventually, but she dreaded what she’d find in the thralls of sleep. Since the Time War dreams had never been kind to her. She shuddered to think how they’d treat her now.
On the eighth day (maybe) her body buckled beneath her and she crashed to her knees. She shook with fear and exhaustion and her eyes watered from the sudden pain. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go this time around. Hadn’t she suffered enough? Hadn’t she already suffered endlessly? Suffered for so much longer than even she knew.
I have broken you. The Master’s words mocked her and she grit her teeth. No. Like he ever could. As if she would allow him that right.
Yet broken was how she felt all the same. Shattered into a thousand pieces. Into a thousand lives she had no memory of. Even the memories she had been shown didn’t feel like her own. She was just another observer, watching over the miserable childhood of someone she felt no emotional connection to. How was she supposed to reconcile this new information with what she already knew about herself? Or thought she knew about herself.
Oh well, she thought bitterly. At least she’d have eternity alone in this cell to think about it. A life sentence. How many lives would the Judoon require? Would she be free to go when this body died of old age? Or would she be kept here until her final regeneration? Assuming she had a final regeneration. Had that been something else the Time Lords had toyed with? Had they altered her DNA itself to limit her regeneration cycle? If they hadn’t what would they have done when she reached her twelfth and had failed to stay dead? Would they have just wiped her memory again? Forced her body and her mind back to that of a child’s?
How many lives have you had?
Never before had she felt so violated.
And now, thanks to the Master, there was nobody left to ask. Nobody left to punish.
She sunk to the floor and then rolled onto her back, staring up at a black, metal ceiling. She wished she could see the stars from here. She wished she could still feel the presence of the TARDIS in the back of her mind. She wished she knew for sure that her friends had got home safely. She wished for so many things. But then, when had it ever mattered what the Doctor had wanted?
At the same time as she told herself she wouldn’t entertain the torture of what ifs, her mind swirlled with questions and with things she should have done differently. She’d tried so hard with this regeneration to be the kind of person she could be proud of. Her last body had held such high hopes for her, and she’d failed him at every turn. Except for the running part. The Doctor had always been exceptional at running. Running away from her problems. Running away from her friends concerned enquiries into her wellbeing. Running away from the deepening emotional connection she shared with them, knowing it would only hurt her more in the long run. She was a coward. Had been for as far back as she could remember. How proud she was of that fact had always varied from moment to moment.
A hollow laugh rang out, echoing eerily against the walls. It took her sluggish, oversaturated brain more than a few seconds to realise that the sound was coming from her. And now I’m losing my mind.
Because of course she was. Of course all it took was a few days inside her own head to do what in thousands of years the Master had never quite achieved. He hadn’t broken her. He’d been wrong about that in the way he was wrong about so many things. The Master had never been her best enemy. That dubious honour had always belonged to herself.
It was almost embarrassing how easily River slipped through the prison’s defence systems. A dash of hallucinogenic lipstick here, a low level perception filter there and a phenomenal level of skill everywhere else and she was a step away from having a red carpet rolled out for her by the guards. This hellhole had nothing on Stormcage, and even that had been child’s play. She’d already had a root around the Doctor’s confiscated personal effects and retrieved his sonic screwdriver (a new one with a very interesting choice of design) without incident. The lack of challenge was somewhat disappointing. It had been a long time since she’d staged a good prison break.
Hopefully the Doctor hadn’t already broken himself out because she was rather hoping to play the dashing hero today. She’d left him in there to stew in there for an extra few days to maximise the gratitude he’d feel from her dramatic rescue. She loved it when a plan came together.
She re-applied her lipstick (the normal kind this time) and winked at her reflection on the revoltingly greasy, metallic kitchen wall. Then she activated the transmat beam they usually used to send food into the prisoner’s cells. Adjusted, of course, to account for something a little larger than a dinner tray.
In the blink of an eye she materialised into the Doctor’s sterile, claustrophobic cell.
And the ‘hello, sweetie’ died on her lips.
The woman sprawled on the floor didn’t even open her eyes.
A few calculations flew through River’s mind. She thought she knew all of the Doctor’s companions. Or knew of them at least. Even in the dim lighting she was sure she would recognise such...peculiar attire, even if she’d only ever seen it in a photograph before. A companion of the future, perhaps? Based on the deep lines on the woman’s face she was a bit older than he’d normally recruit. Attractive though, which seemed to be an absolute must if one wanted to travel with the Doctor.
Seeing no reason to speculate any further, River cleared her throat. The woman’s eyes shot open and she scrambled to her feet. Or at the very least she tried to; instead her legs became tangled in her long, grey coat and she stumbled back to the floor. It would have been comical had River not been hit by a sudden wave of pity. Frantic confusion rolled off the woman with a force River could almost feel.
Had the Doctor really left this woman here to rot?
She wished with any certainty she could say no, but it wasn’t unprecedented.
“Hello,” she said, gently so as not to spook the woman, who looked seconds away from a panic attack. It was hard to believe that the Judoon had looked at this skinny blonde bedecked in rainbows and their immediate thought was to lock her in the most secure area of the prison in eternal solitary confinement. Looks, of course, could be deceiving. She’d have to tread carefully.
The woman shuffled backwards and then used the wall to pull herself to her feet. Even with the support she looked like a stiff breeze could have knocked her right back down again. Her wide, hazel eyes stared at her and, through the obvious haze of confusion and fear, River was sure she could detect a hidden intelligence there.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Yorkshire accent. Voice thin and strained, as though she hadn’t spoken in days.
“That’s a funny way to greet your rescuer,” said River. She cocked an eyebrow. “Well, your intended rescuer. Unless this rudeness gets shelved I may very well change my mind.”
The woman made a quiet noise of distress and bowed her head so a curtain of greasy blonde hair concealed her face. River pushed aside the niggling guilt and glanced down at her watch. They’d need to pick up the pace soon if they wanted to escape before the prison warden realised her intentions weren’t quite as previously advertised.
“I can’t tell whether this is some kind of cosmic punishment or cosmic pity,” said the woman.
Right. “Did the Doctor put you here?” asked River.
“Or a joke,” the woman continued. Her voice cracked. “Yeah. I think that’s the most likely. Just one thing after another, isn’t it?”
River frowned. “Look. You’re clearly going through something right now. Do you want to stay here and wallow or do you want to come with me? You’re not exactly who I was looking for, but I don’t want this to have been a wasted trip. Unless you know what cell the Doctor is being held in?”
The woman pressed a hand to her face and heaved in a deep, struggling breath. “What’s your escape plan?”
“Vortex manipulator. I’ve already taken down the outer shields. Are you really in a position to be picky?” asked River.
“Not in a position to move around very much, actually,” said the woman. Hand still pressed firmly against the wall, she straightened up. “Pretty tired. Don’t want to slow you down.” She looked up, and River found herself strangely drawn to her gaze. “Are you really here?”
“Of course I’m here,” said River. A sudden creeping suspicion sent tingles across her brain. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
The woman shrugged her shoulders, and then finally pushed herself away from the wall to stand on her own two feet. Her grubby coat fell around her and she thrust her hands into the pockets of her trousers. The glow from the transmat hub cast eerie shadows across her face. “Usually you aren’t.”
“You’ve seen me before then?” asked River. Something uncomfortable curled in her stomach.
The sonic screwdriver had been in her belongings. She hadn’t once asked who River was. Her Doctor (the one she’d left sleeping back on Darillium) had told her he’d been granted a new set of regenerations. And the clothes were characteristically ridiculous.
“Oh I see you all the time,” said the woman. She swayed a bit and then clicked her tongue. “Probably shouldn’t have spent the last few days lying down. Think my legs have forgotten how to move properly.”
River swallowed and crossed the floor between them, only stopping when the woman was within touching distance. For a moment it looked like she might dart away, her face twisting nervously. River reached forward and gently tilted the woman’s chin upwards until their eyes met. The mixture of emotion contained in them was hard for River to get a grip on. Exhaustion. Fear. Defeat. A few other things too.
“Doctor?” she said, tentatively. Still not quite sure.
The woman’s responding smile was achingly sad. “Hello, sweetie.”