Chapter Text
“You. Me. Handcuffs. Must it always end this way?”
~River Song, Flesh and Stone
The Doctor hadn’t expected this. Just a short jaunt to Earth’s moon, shake the kinks out of the new body, back in a tick to the little girl with the timey-wimey crack in her wall. Little girl with a brilliant name, Amelia Pond, like a name in a fairytale. Right, well, he’d meant to go for five minutes, and here it’d been at least six, and he wasn’t even on the Moon.
Maybe. He made an experimental little hop. No, not the Moon. Not Earth’s moon at any rate, unless he’d gotten all the way to the thirty-somethingth century, with the gravity concentration beams and...
“Hello, sweetie.”
The Doctor’s thought was derailed as he heard her voice. It sounded like her, like Professor Song, no, River, call her River. But it sounded... weak, breathless perhaps, as though she’d been running or... “River? Are you all right?” He peered into the gloom and discovered a barred window of sorts. She must be beyond it.
“Well,” she said, and took a laboured breath. “Can you scan for atmosphere?”
“No, sorry, sonic’s on the blink. Hang on...” He stuck out his tongue and tasted the air. “Hmm... levels are about Earth-normal, a trifle low on accessible O2 but you’re healthy, that shouldn’t... oh.” He shook his head and angled himself to look through the window into the adjoining... was it a cell? “River, how long have you been here?”
“Don’t... know. At least... a day?” Oh... oh dear, she does sound badly off.
“Air pressure is far too low for humans, you’ve got altitude sickness, badly. Bit odd you’re even conscious really, good on you.” He tried to recall what he knew about this, even as he engaged his respiratory bypass. “Headache, dizziness, fatigue. Shortness of breath, yeah, nosebleed? swollen feet and hands?” He looked over in alarm, and could dimly make out her slumped form, as she shook her head. “Good. There’s that at least. But we’ve got to get you out of here, into Earth normal pressure, and soon.”
River laughed on a sort of gasp. “That could be... harder than you... realise, honey. The...” The gasps were getting more frequent now, fewer words between them, as she struggled for oxygen. “Judoon...” She lapsed into silence, but the Doctor had enough information to work with, now.
“Sco no po tro frono jo konafo tohodo. Noso bo hopho koro tosokado! Boma tosa fopapo panojo!” He shouted for the Judoon, and was rewarded by the uncanny sight of a Judoon officer scurrying toward him. The Judoon did not scurry as a rule; there must be an idiom - an offensive one - that he had hit upon by accident, one that could shock even a stoic rhino.
Good.
“I am the Doctor,” he repeated in English as the officer opened the door of his cell. “You have my friend and she does not have enough air. You must release her.”
“She is a thief.”
“If your orders were for execution, you would have killed her outright. She needs thicker air, and she needs it now. She is under my protection.” He trailed off, letting the Judoon officer absorb the unspoken threat. After the Moon, and after the Shadow Proclamation, the Judoon knew him.
They knew just what he was capable of if crossed.
The Judoon grunted and opened the door further, motioned the Doctor out. “Maho,” the Doctor thanked it, and it grunted again. It opened the door to River’s cell, let the Doctor in, then closed the door behind him.
“The air will be thick,” it said grudgingly, and left.
“Earth sea level,” shouted the Doctor after it, “And slowly!” And then he turned to River, slumped against the wall. “Oh, River,” he said softly, shaking his head, and he knelt by her unconscious form and felt for her pulse. Fast and thready, and that was not good; her heart was tripping far too quickly for a human’s, it was going so fast that it almost felt like there were four beats instead of two. Four knocks. The Doctor shuddered as that thought flitted through his mind, and sat heavily on the floor. He pulled River close with her head cradled against his chest, stroking his fingers through her hair and waiting for the air pressure to rise enough to help her. He knew she only needed more air, she’d be fine, and he wondered vaguely why he was so worried about her. He barely knew her. Of course, he had just regenerated, so maybe he was more sensitive or maybe this whole thing was a fever dream, an hallucination.
He’d never had olfactory hallucinations before though, and her hair smelled very good.
Not the most restful post-regeneration period I’ve had, he thought vaguely as the slowly increasing pressure made his ears pop. A little puff of regeneration energy wafted out of each ear as the pressure equalised, and some of it drifted toward River’s face, dusting it with golden light. She’s beautiful, he thought, and he bent to press his lips against her forehead, just as though she was any travelling companion. But she’s not, the thought flitted through his mind, she’s... never mind that now... “I’ve got you, River. You’ll be okay, I promise.” He murmured the words against her skin as her hair tickled his nose.
“Thank you, sweetie.” River’s voice was a whisper, and the Doctor felt one warm hand creep around his neck and pull him down further. Or pull herself up, it wasn’t clear which, and then she was kissing him. Sweet, he thought, and wet and warm and... and then he stopped thinking altogether. River shifted without disengaging until she was sitting in his lap, and she was still kissing him. Golden regeneration energy was trickling between their lips to swirl around them, and he could feel it tingling against his skin.
He heard himself whimper into her mouth with the sensation of it all.
River gasped and pulled away, and they sat there, panting, eyes wide and locked, until the Judoon came back, a platoon of them this time. “I’m sorry,” River whispered, and she stood, pulling him to his feet and gripping his hand tightly. They faced the door and watched warily as the Judoon opened it.
“You will come with us to our employer,” said the Judoon - the Doctor looked carefully at the rank insignia - said the Judoon commander directly to River. “He will decide your final disposition.”
“I’m coming too,” declared the Doctor. “We’ll work this out.”
The commander grunted. “I cannot stop you,” it said in a surly tone. “The Shadow Proclamation has decreed that we are not to interfere with the Doctor.”
“Then shall we, Doctor?” asked River in a clear, calm voice, though the Doctor could feel her trembling slightly. He wondered if it was fear or lingering altitude sickness. She held out her wrists to the Judoon commander.. “I assume you feel the need to restrain me, simple woman though I am.” The Doctor managed to muffle a snort of laughter. He didn’t know what she was, or who she was, but he felt certain that nothing about River Song was simple.
He reclaimed her hand.
“There’s no need for that,” he said shortly, but the Judoon commander had had enough - they were nothing if not expedient, the Doctor reflected - and handcuffed them together rather than argue about it. The Doctor considered struggling, but as River seemed very calm about the whole thing, he decided to let it lie, and came along quietly.
When they left the building though, the Doctor looked around, sniffed a few times, tasted the air, and then he began to get angry again. The air here was fine, a bit thinner than Earth sea level, dry and dusty and with an unpleasant overtone of ozone, but it was certainly not as thin as the air in the building had been. He couldn’t help himself, he clutched at River’s hand convulsively, and she looked up at him, startled. Then her eyes narrowed as she took a deep breath and obviously figured it out, watched the expression on his face, and now she was angry too. Aside from the narrowed eyes she didn’t show it though, and her voice was casual when she said, “Do you know where we are, Doctor?” as though they were taking a pleasure cruise.
Well, two could play at that game. The Doctor reached up with the hand cuffed to hers and pointed at the magenta-ringed planet hovering at the horizon. “See that? And smell the thinnish, arid atmosphere?” She nodded and gave a ghost of a smile at his pointed hint to the Judoon, who almost certainly would not get it. “We’re on Segonax. Nice planet, bit dry perhaps, pretty skies. Breathable atmosphere.” She nudged him - knock it off, Doctor - and he gave her a little grin, but he quit baiting the Judoon. No fun if they didn’t even know it after all.
They trudged across the sands for more than an hour, toward another building, and the Doctor noticed that River’s breathing was becoming laboured again. He bent his head toward her. “You okay, River?” he asked in a low tone. “I’ll make them stop if you need me to.” She shook her head.
“I’m okay. No permanent... damage.” She hesitated and he squeezed her hand.
“If you’re sure...” he said doubtfully, and she threw him a brilliant smile as the Judoon commander barked an order too quickly for the Doctor to catch. He soon figured it out though, as a Judoon hand clamped onto his shoulder (and River’s; her knees buckled slightly before she recovered herself) and they came to a stop in front of the building. The Judoon commander gestured at one of his men, who pulled out a communicator and spoke into it.
A tall, thin being - about as different from the Judoon as it was possible for a biped to be - appeared in front of them in a column of lightning and dust. He - the Doctor was sure of this, as the being wore no coverings over sexual characteristics; apparently his short silky pelt was all the covering he needed - did not even pause before he looked at the Doctor and said, “This is not the correct thief,” and pulled out a weapon from somewhere, aimed at the nearest Judoon and fired.
The Judoon disappeared without a sound, and the Judoon commander stared for a split second before it gathered its wits and said, as mildly as was possible for its species. “Not that one. This one,” and it shoved River forward. She stumbled to her knees in front of the tall being, their handcuffed wrists dragging the Doctor with her, although he remained standing. He squeezed her hand.
“She is under my protection,” he said as he helped her to her feet, exactly as he had to the Judoon. “What do you wish with her?”
“I do not wish anything with your female,” the tall being replied in a monotone. “It is not the correct female.”
“How do you know?” the Doctor asked, and then yelped, “Oi! River, quit poking me!”
“Would you like to throw me under a bus too, sweetie,” she inquired in a syrupy-sweet tone, through gritted teeth. “Or just kill me yourself?” She was practically vibrating with indignation.
“What? Oh. Ohhh. Sorry, I... well, sorry.” He tried a smile but River wasn’t paying attention to him anymore; her eyes were on the thin alien.
The tall being sighed. “The female that stole my cohort’s treasure is of a species that can survive with little air. This female...” he sneered at River, who had suddenly gone tense and still, “Is from the planet you call ‘Earth’ and is weak and puny. It became ill in little air after only one circuit of the Earth's moon around its primary. It is the incorrect female.” He made a dismissive gesture and the Doctor felt River relax beside him.
“You showed us a hologram,” protested the Judoon commander. “We brought you the woman who looks like the hologram. And you killed one of my best men.” If a Judoon was capable of servile whining, the Doctor thought, this one was doing it.
“It is of no concern to me,” said the tall alien in that curiously monotonous voice. “You have brought me the wrong thief and wasted my time. Run.” The Judoon gaped at him. The alien sighed again. “Run, puny Judoon. And take this with you.” He kicked at River’s feet, knocking them out from under her, and she fell heavily to the sand, dragging the Doctor to his knees.
“But what shall we do with them?” asked the Judoon commander plaintively.
“Kill them. Keep them. It is the same to me. Now run.”
They ran. All of them, the Judoon immediately, and as soon as River and the Doctor were on their feet, they ran too.
At some point during the running, after they were out of sight of the thin alien’s building, the Doctor glanced down at River, and he realised that she was laughing as she ran. She was breathless and rosy-cheeked, and laughing like a loon, and he couldn’t help but laugh with her. “Do you need anything back with the Judoon, River Song?” he shouted as they ran, and she shook her head.
“Everything I need is right here, honey,” she panted, and his grin grew wider.
“Good,” the Doctor said with satisfaction, and veered off the track the Judoon had left in their haste, toward where he could feel the timelines converging on his old girl. He pulled River with him, connected at handcuffed wrists and at fingertips, and just let himself experience the running. The pounding of feet on the sandy ground and of hearts in his chest, the regeneration energy puffing out as he panted slightly, the pull of the TARDIS on his time sense.
He could run like this, with her, forever.
The Doctor was nearly disappointed when the TARDIS came into view; he wanted the running with River to go on and on. But he snapped his fingers and they went barrelling into the blue box, laughing and gasping and falling over each other in their haste. They sank to the console stairs together, and he raised their joined hands and gasped out, “Should’ve gone back, they’ve got the only keys.”
River giggled. “Oh sweetie,” she said with an arch look. “As though I couldn’t unlock this with my fingernail.” She turned her back on him, pulling his arm over her shoulder so she could inspect it closely, and the Doctor felt a little twist. And his hand was free.
He felt another of those little pangs of disappointment.
River was still busy with something he couldn’t see; he assumed she was getting her own wrist free of the cuffs as well, and then she turned to him, tucking something into her blouse. There were tears in her eyes as she looked at him, and she said, simply, “I’m sorry, my love.” She kissed him once on the lips, hers trembling, and whispered against his skin. “Goodbye.”
--/--
When the Doctor woke, he was slumped in a jump seat near the TARDIS console, remembering something vaguely like an adventure with River Song - there had been kissing, and running, and handcuffs - as though it was a dream. Oh, he thought fuzzily, a dream. Of course. Regeneration sickness. At least I didn’t lose a hand this time, though it came in handy later... He giggled to himself, and then sat bolt upright.
The little girl, Amelia Pond. Name like something in a fairytale. He had better go back; he’d told her he’d only be five minutes.
Good thing he had a time machine.