Chapter Text
When Joan opened her eyes, she could remember she was dreaming of a place with two suns. They hung low over a red and dusty city. But as she blinked once, twice, the image was gone as if it never existed. Joan usually tried harder to hold on to her dreams because her brain really knows how to cook them - shapeshifting aliens, snogging Queen Elizabeth I, you name it - but this morning she felt exhausted - like she’s been running non-stop in her dreams again.
The musical alarm on her phone sounded and she reached for the offending device on her bedside table. Closing one eye to avoid the bright light of her phone screen, she scrolled through the notifications that came in overnight.
Questions about essay submissions.
Texts from Yaz.
An email about that successful archaeological dig in Battambang.
More student emails.
More texts from Yaz and Ryan in the group chain.
Yaz: joan where were you last night??
Ryan: yeah last night was proper awesome
Yaz: of course you’d say that with those girls fawning over you
Ryan: don’t be jealous that I’ve got game
Yaz: gross
Joan couldn’t help but type a reply.
Joan: guys I told you I have a morning class today
Joan: but glad you had fun
Joan: tell me which girls tonight *kissy face emoji*
Placing her phone face down back on her table, she lay back on her pillow and huffed her short blonde hair out of her face, closing her eyes once more to will the images from her dreams last night to appear. But they stayed stubbornly away.
Oh well. Tomorrow night then.
She loved entertaining her friends Yaz, Ryan and Graham about the places her sleep takes her to - they were always such adventures, though there is also usually danger, and running. So much running. For as long as she could remember, Joan has had such vivid dreams, and sometimes they were fanciful and nice - like that time she was on the Orient Express, other times they were downright weird - like when she dreamt about cats dressed up as nuns - but then there were times she woke up terrified and aching. Those she didn’t really tell her friends about.
But as always it was a new day and it was time for work.
Joan climbed out of her bed and got about her morning routine to get ready. It was a busy time of the year, what with finals around the corner and research projects lining up for the summer.
By the time Joan closed the dark blue door to her tiny flat in central London, she was dressed in one of her usual plain grey suit jacket and matching black pants - a perfectly sensible outfit for her life as a university faculty member, if not for a little splash of colour with her bright rainbow cloth hairband and her signature silver ear cuffs. The university was just four blocks away from her flat, which explained why Joan put up with the London prices. There is really nowhere she would rather be than teaching Linguistics at the London School of Art, History and Culture. And that’s where she’s been for the past eight years.
How incredible it is to be energised by her daily life even after so much time. Even if it’s small. Perhaps because it is small.
It was with this lovely thought that Joan added a little extra enthusiastic skip in her usual stroll to her neighbourhood coffee shop and she walked right into someone at the door. Who was holding coffee.
“Oh shite!” It was extremely hot coffee. That was now dripping all down her clothes.
The person who crashed into her drew back immediately, light brown-green eyes wide in alarm. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” The woman looked in horror at Joan’s now soaked jacket, reaching her hand out to try to help but unsure of what to do. She was slightly taller than Joan, with a head full of mad brown curls, well-worn lines around her eyes, and dark red lipstick.
Joan, too, looked down at herself and sucked in a breath as she pulled the wet fabric away from her skin. At least in the cold English air the coffee was immediately no longer hot.
“I’m so sorry,” the woman repeated, as she thrusted a handful of napkins into Joan’s hands. “Are you ok?”
“I’m all right,” Joan said brightly, not wanting the woman to feel bad about what was clearly an accident. She used the napkins to dap at herself rather futilely. Despite the cold, she peeled her jacket off and surveyed the damage. Well this needs to go to dry cleaning. As well as her white blouse underneath, judging by the huge coffee-coloured stain on the middle of her chest.
When Joan looked up the other woman was staring at her blouse as well, looking apologetic and a hint of - what was it - appreciation? Joan was suddenly very aware of how thin her blouse is.
“I’m not usually this clumsy, I can assure you.” The woman smiled mildly, her voice velvet. As if to demonstrate this, she held Joan’s elbow and deftly maneuvered them away from the coffee shop door where people were still coming and going. They stood by the window where Joan could see Graham in an apron behind the counter, giving her a questioning look. Joan shrugged her shoulder in reply.
“Somehow I believe you.” Joan turned back to the woman with a smile. She was wearing a black leather jacket and a thick brown belt cinched at her waist, a white tank top which fit her very nicely, tight black jeans and sky high boots. How does she walk in those things.
“Can I make it up to you? Pay for your cleaning perhaps?”
“No that’s really quite all right. Don’t worry about it.” Joan waved her hand dismissively. “I live just round the corner so I’ll just pop home for a change.”
"Do you?" The woman said. "Nice area, isn't it?"
Joan tilted her head, proud for some reason. "Yeah, I love it. Was just thinking today about how much I love it. You? From around here?"
"No, just visiting." The woman's lips tipped up politely, and then parted into a large smile before she could help it as if it ran right away from her, the lines around her mouth lovely but not as much as those around her eyes. "But I'm already liking what I see so far." Joan was distantly aware of her heartbeat gaining an impulsive sort of momentum. She did not know what to say next.
The other woman saved her. “How about I buy you a coffee?”
“Another one?” Joan grinned too, all toothy, no restraint. “I think this one already woke me right up, so I should really thank you for that. Was rather tired this morning from running in my sleep.” Joan wasn’t sure why she was still talking.
But the woman didn’t seem to mind. “Well,” she said, eyes dancing. “Always glad to help. And if you were looking to get better sleep, I know several other ways too.”
Her remark was placed just this side of innocence, but a knowing glint in the eyes caused Joan to look away, feeling almost shy.
“I’m River by the way.” She put out her hand.
Joan closed her palm over hers, which was firm and calloused. “Joan.”
They beamed at each other for a beat longer before releasing their hands.
“I have to go, Joan, but it was nice to meet you.”
“Oh right, well, yeah and I better go back and change. I guess I’ll see you around.”
“Promise?” River said, without needing a response and turning to leave. And it was a good thing she didn’t too, because Joan stood rooted to the spot for a few minutes after River left, smiling to herself and savouring the short-lived encounter. It was still a cold spring in London but Joan felt nothing but warmth.
When she finally entered the coffee shop because she really did need an actual cuppa to drink, Graham practically shouted at her. “Did what I think happened just happened?”
Joan scrunched her face in embarrassment. He was such a grandpa sometimes. “Nothing happened, Graham!” she insisted, cheeks flaming.
But when she came over to the counter where Graham worked and he asked, “So did you get her number?” Joan slapped her forehead and groaned in despair.
“Oh I forgot! What an idiot!”
“Better luck next time, Doc.” Graham chuckled, using his nickname for her fondly. But Joan couldn’t be feeling further from a woman with multiple Doctorate degrees.
—-
Joan finally got to the university after returning home and hastily putting on a new buttoned up blouse and an elbow-padded tweed jacket she could not recall purchasing, which somehow seemed to be the most exciting thing in her class today despite the fascinating material on historical and forensic linguistics.
“New jacket, Doctor Smith?” A particularly outspoken student asked as the class was winding down.
“Yeah, looking smart!” Someone else shouted from the lecture hall. While a boy in the front row said, “I feel like it’s missing something...you should pair it with a bow tie.”
“Don’t be daft,” the first student said.
“Bow ties are cool,” the boy said.
“Are they though?” Joan wrinkled her nose in amusement. “Thank you all for your input into my sartorial choices but this ain’t a fashion class innit?”
Class time came to an end before Joan could show how just unlike a fashion degree Linguistics could be, and she had to run to the next building over where she was most certainly late for a meeting with her department head. It was on that dig in Battambang about which she really should have read the email in her inbox this morning. And she was planning to! She just got distracted.
When she finally reached her department head’s office, the door was already closed and voices could be heard inside. Joan burst in as quickly as she could, breathless.
The head of the School of Arts and Archaeology Professor Lang was a thin, bald man. “Ah, Doctor Smith! Thanks for joining us.”
He gestured to a woman already seated in front of his desk. “I want you to meet-”
The woman from the coffee shop turned around, her curls as wild as before. Joan could have sworn she stopped breathing.
“-Professor River Song.”
“Hi,” Joan said, stunned.
“Oh, hello,” River looked like a cat that absolutely devoured a beautiful, helpless canary.
Professor Lang continued, “Professor Song has been leading the Battambang dig. She is the main reason why the dig has been so successful. And Doctor Smith here is our foremost expert on paleolinguistics - I’m sure you’ll find her most suited to your use…” He trailed off. “Do you two know each other?”
Joan was looking rather flushed as River said smoothly, “Not quite as well as I would like.”