She's Only Just Beginning

Part III

[ Who would have thought? she mused.]

Seeing the direction of River’s gaze, The Doctor quickly handed her the letter, which she re-folded neatly before tucking it safely into her blouse. She enjoyed his reaction as he watched the letter disappear between her breasts; his eyes went wide, and she could practically hear him wondering what else was hidden there. Then he seemed to realize he was staring at her cleavage, and promptly turned red, his eyes snapping up to meet hers. She chuckled quietly, amused and oddly touched by his adorably guilty expression. Bless.

“I- We- You. Bed,” stuttered, putting on his best authoritative face, which was terribly unconvincing and had absolutely no effect on the woman before him. She slowly raised one eyebrow, the smirk playing around her mouth enough to keep The Doctor blushing, though he wasn’t altogether sure why.

“Why, Doctor,” she purred, “I didn’t know you had it in you to be so very direct. I must say, I’m impressed.” He swallowed convulsively, vaguely realizing that his mouth had abruptly gone dry. He very nearly groaned in frustration. This woman, he thought. Of course she’d have this affect on me, even now, as young as she is. Logically, he know that this was not the woman he had married and made love to, not yet, at any rate. His body, on the other hand, clearly had not received the memo. The same lips he had kissed a hundred thousand times were now smirking suggestively at him. The infinitely soft, obstreperous honey-blonde hair that he had twined his hands through in both passion and comfort was now piled half-heartedly at the crown of her head, ringlets having come loose to frame her face, which was more known to him than any other’s. Those blue/green eye that had gazed at him with every conceivable emotion were now staring back at him, softer and younger, more conflicted and easier to read than he had ever seen them. All the same curves he knew and loved so well, and such soft skin, which would be kissed by a million, million different suns to make up for her days in Stormcage. Not as resilient, not as patient nor as sagacious, not as sad but more broken, yet still his River, whom he had promised to always, always care for.

River watched curiously as The Doctor’s expression changed, going from barely restrained lust to poorly concealed love.

“River,” The Doctor began carefully, seeming to bite back an endearment, “you need rest. Sleep. In a bed.”

“I’m not much of a sleeper, to be honest,” River warned. Her words were meant to resist The Doctor’s, and her voice was light, but The Doctor had spent centuries deciphering the meaning hidden being what she said.

“Of course,” he murmured. “The nightmares. Everything they put in your brain, it’s no wonder. I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” he said, brushing the pads of his fingers along her hairline, ghosting over her temple. River shivered at his touch, and he drew back, looking contrite. She smiled, as if to say, “it’s all right, really.” The tremble was born from the welcome but new feeling of being shown gentleness. River didn’t ask how he knew -- how could he not? He came from a future in which they trusted one another absolutely.

“Yes,” she replied shortly. “You can help me carry all this to my flat,” she said, gesturing at the array of books and papers that littered the table.

“All right,” The Doctor agreed immediately. “Here to help,” he added with a grin.

“In that case, let’s put you to work,” she responded as they turned back to the table. River handed The Doctor three book bags; while he went around the table closing and collecting books, she worked on sorting her papers into the appropriate files. They were silent as they packed up, each lost in their own confusing thoughts.

“You have your own key to the library?” The Doctor asked in surprise, sounding impressed. River locked the door behind them on their way out, each of them weighed down with two bags bursting with books and folders.

“Mm. I love libraries, and the librarian trusts me,” River replied. “You seem like the kind of person who could understand an appreciation for libraries,” she noted as they walked across the silent, dark campus toward her flat. Due to her promising position within the school, she had been granted her own flat off to the side of the campus.

“I love knowledge and I’m absolutely crazy about the smell of books,” The Doctor answered cautiously. River knew instantly that he was holding something back, though, and it intrigued her.

“What about libraries themselves?” she prompted curiously.

“I...used to be a big fan of libraries, but to tell you the truth, they rather lost their appeal awhile back.”

“What happened?”

“I’ve found that the larger the library, the more extensive, the more wonderful a place it is. Do you agree?” River nodded, then realized he could not see the slight motion in the darkness.

“I do.”

“Yet the greater the library, the easier it is to get lost...or lose someone else,” The Doctor concluded cryptically. River wondered why he sounded so sorrowful, and knew that was all she was going to get out of him on the subject, at least tonight.

“But having people to lose, in any sense of the word...That’s something to be grateful for,” River countered, letting them into her home. The Doctor was startled by how easily she had reminded him of something so profoundly important, although he hadn’t thought there was anything left with which she could surprise him. Not that he would ever make the mistake of underestimating her, no; it was merely an assumption based off the fact he had been married to her for several centuries. The Doctor watched her for a long moment, taking in her sloppy bun, heather grey University jumper, and faded blue jeans. He smiled to himself; it made him inexplicably happy to see her dressed so casually, so clearly in her element when it came to her studies, and no doubt excelling brilliantly.

“You’re right,” he agreed when she turned back to him, and followed her inside.