She's Only Just Beginning

River sat alone at a table in the University’s impressive library, books and papers scattered across the ebony tabletop. She was half hidden by a wall of stacked tomes. Her glasses had slid progressively farther down her nose until they were nearly in danger of falling off and her explosive blonde curls tumbled messily around her face, her bun having come partly undone. It was late, so late that she was the only one in the library now, but that was how she liked it. River had a deal with the librarian that allowed her access to it at night -- a silver key, kept on a bracelet around her wrist. She preferred the solitude; the quiet helped her to concentrate. Peace was something her live had been devoid of for so long, and while she reveled in the rush of dangerous expeditions (she loved a good tomb), she took comfort in the quietude of the library at night.

No one except River was supposed to be able to enter the library now (it was well past midnight), so when she heard faint footsteps approaching, she set down her pen and listened carefully. One hand easily found the small yet effective gun she kept handy at all times, though her expression remained neutral. She lifted her sharp green eyes from her papers, surreptitiously scanning the immediate area. A quiet scuffling noise came from behind the nearest bookcase, and River switched the safety off her gun. A tall figure appeared, but the library was too dark for River to see his or her face. And then, in a wonderfully anticlimactic act of clumsiness, The Doctor tripped into the pool of light around River’s table. Her ever-present anxiety that someone would return for her faded to the back of her mind, and gave way to a myriad of emotions that she would come to forever associate with The Doctor: mild annoyance, profound relief, frustration, awe, a thrum of excitement, concern, indulgent exasperation, and a great deal of care.

“Doctor!” she exclaimed, surprised. “I almost shot your ridiculous hat off!” She got to her feet, setting her gun on the table as she did so.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” The Doctor muttered as he strolled over to where River stood, removing said hat (a fedora) and twirling it in his hands. She filed that comment away for future reference, quite sure that she had never shot any of his hats. He frowned at her lack of an offhand retort, only then noticing the slight confusion in her eyes. It was rather well concealed, and she wondered at his ability to read her so easily.

“Or perhaps it would be. How early is this for you, exactly?” The Doctor queried, making his way around the table to her. “These are really quite charming, by the way,” he remarked seriously, tapping the bridge of her reading glasses. River quickly took them off, having forgotten she’d been wearing them, warmth flooding her cheeks at the close proximity of this impossible man.

“This is the first time I’ve see you since you gave me the diary,” River replied, her voice deliberately expressionless.

“Oh, goody! I mean, I’ve been bouncing around your timeline for awhile now, trying to find you just a bit after Berlin, but every time, you say you’ve seen me before. The TARDIS hasn’t been very helpful. How long has it been, then?” The Doctor said in a rush, rambling impressively little.

“Two years,” she answered shortly, more subdued than before, the loneliness not quite as well hidden.

“Oh, River- d’you mind if I call you that? Would you prefer Melody, or do you go by another name now? I wouldn’t want to assume anything,” he asked, sounding strangely apologetic.

“I...go by River,” she responded slowly. Oh, there was so much that she had left unspoken, about the agonizing time she had spent asking herself the very same questions The Doctor had just voiced. She was certainly no longer ‘Mels,’ the juvenile delinquent and childhood friend of her parents. ‘Melody’ had been thoughtfully considered, as it was her given name, after all. But it seemed too sad and tasted of failure, and had been eventually discarded. The idea of making an entirely new name for herself had been appealing, and yet it somehow felt like it would have been a betrayal of self and of The Doctor. So that left ‘River.’ This was the name that held the most meaning of all, and therefor caused the most conflict for her. ‘River’ was the woman The Doctor loved, someone wise and strong and worthy. She didn’t feel like that woman yet, but choosing that name came from a deep fear of never becoming The Doctor’s River. It was a conscious promise to her future.