Yowzah Oneshot Collection (2)

130(G)

If I could grant you peace of mind, would that be enough?

                   savvyliterate

The Doctor wasn’t sure what prompted the locks on this particular part of his memories to crumble away.

He had been chatting with the Ponds, outlining plans for a deep space safari that required each participant to bring along a Wiffle ball and three cans of pink paint. Rory was hunting down the paint while Amy had taken it upon herself to construct a crude Wiffle ball gun using oddball parts she found beneath the TARDIS console and an old NERF water gun.

One moment, he was grinning at his Pond. The next, his memory had unlocked and missing parts of a trial his eighth self had gone through flooded his brain. Bright images of the Eleven and his Doom Coalition, Liv, and Helen flashed before him as if he was standing right there, and he was still living through the experience.

And with them stood River Song, his bloody wife, in a nun’s habit.

“Doctor?”

Amy’s sharp voice, followed by a snap of the fingers, shook him out of the memories. “Oh? Sorry, Pond.”

“You weren’t listening,” Amy huffed. She stood back, hand on hip as she studied him. “What’re you thinking about?"

“River,” he replied before he could evade it. Which really there was no point in evading it since Amy was her mother.

“Oh! She’d love this.” Amy smacked the Doctor’s arm and skirted around him to the monitor. “Let’s pick her up. Besides, when you get us in trouble with the natives, she can rescue us.”

“You make that sound like this is an everyday occurrence.”

Amy ignored him and yanked the keyboard to her.

“We are not constantly rescued by bloody River Song!”

“Yes, we are, and don’t call my daughter bloody.”

The Doctor harrumphed at her and threw himself on the captain’s seat as Amy typed out a message to send her daughter at some point in time and space. He closed his eyes and went back through the memories. It was clear that River had been trying to hide her identity, and a nun’s habit was about the only thing that could contain her hair. But did she not think that he wouldn’t one day recall her eyes, the pitch of her voice, the scent of time that clung to her and mingled with her natural chemistry that rendered even the most expensive perfume in the universe ineffective? He shifted restlessly.

“Done!” Amy bounced to his side and lightly smacked his knee. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Whatever lewd thoughts you’re having about River.”

“I am not having lewd thoughts about her.” Or he hadn’t been before Amy brought it up. He wondered if he could convince River to wear the nun’s habit again?

“I said stop! Budge over.” Amy squeezed in next to the Doctor, and that effectively quashed any lewd directions his thoughts had been taking. Not that they were to begin with, no thank you, Amelia Pond.

Amy winged an eyebrow at him, and the Doctor decided he really needed to stop muttering under his breath.

“How’s Rory?” he piped up, desperate to change the subject.

“Rory? He’s still off on that wild goose chase, I imagine. Where in the TARDIS do you keep a supply of Pooshian Pink paint?”

“Artist’s studio.” The Doctor put an arm around Amy, hugging her. “I mean, how’s Rory?”