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I hope I'm not the only one who thought that there was more to Professor River Song than met the eye!
Those eyes. So young! Everything about him seems younger than before, he certainly looks it. But then again, maybe it's all relative.
I remember the first time that I met him, the Doctor that is, not his current incarnation. He wouldn't have remembered me. I'm supposed to be dead. I guess it's good to have friends in high places. This face, his face, it surprises me. This is obviously the first time that he has met me since, well…since then. A lot has happened.
Back then, we were both so very different. I was all curls, flaunting my credentials like they were crown jewels. He was so very put out by me, the unwelcome traveler. I could see it in his eyes. He missed her, his previous companion. He never talked about it, other than dropping a hint of her presence here and there. Once after a particularly tedious trip, he spoke her name, but that was the only time I heard it from him.
In the end, the TARDIS was on my side. She took me in. I was the lost little sheep, so bold on the outside, but still young with little real life experience. Somehow, that simple wooden box gave me the best home that I have ever known, but in return she charged me with an imperative task—to record the story of the Doctor as best I could. Over time, that silly little book took many shapes, always hiding itself. It, too, held a multitude of surprises. How appropriate that when we were finally separated it should settle into its current disguise.
Now look at me. An archaeologist? Well, in a loose interpretation of the term. Preserving history does demand a great deal of my concentration. At least, I've learned how to have a bit of fun and truly enjoy my responsibilities. Even now, with the shadows breathing down my neck, I can't help but tease him a bit, taunt him with the idea that he may not know everything. He was the one who taught me to laugh at danger after all. In the beginning, I was so serious. He changed me, made me who I am, who I needed to be. Now it's time that I return the favor.
He doesn't know me, though. I can tell, but I have to ask anyway. I have to know for sure. The indifference is heartbreaking. I have the power to save him, to stop so much pain. But I can't, I can't change what is meant to be.
He's looking at me now, horror and anger tainting his features. It hurts me to do this, but it has to be done. The timelines must work out as they are meant to. Only one has the power to decide and it isn't me. This adventure reminds me so much of others, in a different time, in a different place.
I feel like the girl I was back then. He's almost exactly the same as I remembered him. His moods shift from mad antics to solemn quiet in the space of a few seconds and his plans are just as hastily thrown together. It's almost like he is the same man, almost. His eyes hold a deep and desperate sadness, but in the back, in that dark corner, forgotten about by everyone including himself, a blinding hope survives.
His eyes are more ancient than any I have ever seen, but inside them, hope still lives. It's early yet. She was just here. She gave him more than he could ever imagine, and for now, he is still close enough to that time to treasure her gifts. There I go. Rambling, I swear, I'm getting just as bad as him, but I do know one thing. One day, in the not-too-distant future, even that hope could be extinguished. But for now, it is enough and all I can do is trust that it will always be enough.
His companion can only bring herself to stare at me. I suppose it is rather awkward to have someone tell you that they knew about you in the future, but have never met you. I can see the wheels turning in her mind, the questions that she wants to ask. I want to reassure her, tell her that she met a wonderful man, settled down, and lived a fantastic life, but I can't. Truth be told, I'm not sure what exactly will happen to her. Some things are still in flux.
Irony. Mr. Lux had to go and refer to us as an old married couple. I would laugh if I could. Married? Us? I certainly have known him for a very long time and have traveled with him to the end of the universe, to the very end of space and beyond. Have we really been friends for that long? I suppose that time has just slipped away from me, and it is again. Now is not the time for reflection, but of action.
Standing on tiptoes, I whisper into his ear. One word, just one little word. A word that has changed his life before and will change it again, very soon. It is the only thing that will convince him, although I long to tell him, you are not alone. He looks at me with worry and fear. We both know that he would never tell his true name to just anyone. It's all so confusing, this world that only we live in. He looks at me and worries about the future, oh what implications a name can have. But he should be looking to the past, back when he was an entirely different man, back when anyone with the right knowledge could find out his name, back when he spoke it freely. I want to scream out the truth, but I know he would never believe me.
The Doctor's eyes accuse me. He believes that I cause him to forget, if only he knew. If only he knew, but then again, I don't even know the whole story myself, only that the time is coming when everything will be revealed.
I can feel myself, my true self leaking out. I'm surprised that he can't see right through me, he always could, but then again who knows how much time it's been for him. I wonder about what has been happening. Why is it so quiet? Where are all the voices? More questions that I can't ask.
Spoilers, spoilers, oh how I wish I could just tell him. Deep down, I hate that I have to do this, but it is necessary. I can only hope that he will be able to forgive me when the time comes, and it is coming much faster than I would like. Every single time I see him, I pray for the time that I can drop this charade and escape from my gilded prison. Someday I'll be able to do that, someday, after the Oncoming Storm. I'll be myself again, my whole self, and he'll look at me and see who I really am, not River Song, the archaeologist, but the proper me.
I live for the day that I will hear him say, "Hello Romana, welcome home."