A/N: I wrote this soon after I watched Impossible Planet. Doctor/River is growing on me. I'm seriously starting to ship it! Such a sad and doomed, yet fascinating relationship. Anywho, this is my first Doctor Who fic that I am actually publishing so yay, here goes. This is probably not the way it will play out, and I'd totally be happy with some more action (considering that River quite possibly may have killed the Doctor), but I didn't really want to get into complicated details. Review if you like!
When I first met the Doctor, a long long time ago, he knew everything about me. Think about that. Impressionable young girl and suddenly this man just drops out of the sky, and he's clever and mad and wonderful, and... and knows everything about her. Imagine what that does to a girl.
He just appeared on her doorstep one day. Or rather, he burst onto the threshold and stuck some sort of weapon with a blue light and whistly noise in her face.
"Oh. Wrong address. Bloody slitheens at 213! Sorry for the interruption, have a nice day."
For a few days, River contemplated about the curious man with the flashy bowtie and peculiar device. Soon, he became a nearly forgotten thought. It's funny how memories do that.
She sat on the swing at the park down the street months later, furiously writing in her journal. She liked to record everything she possibly could- every detail, every victory, every flaw. It would come in handy when she was famous some day.
"Whatcha writing?" The same curious man had appeared seemingly out of thin air. They talked some. Soon, he came frequently to the park. They talked a lot about food—tips on the best banana daquiri ("When you're older, miss," he said, tapping her nose), or how delicious fish fingers and custard were. One day, it was about what brand of hair gel he used ("Mine's a little out of control," she said, tugging at an unruly ringlet). He told her about faraway planets and strange aliens, and even showed her some. Sometimes, it was deep discussions about life. He pleaded with her to savor every moment; never use violence; always crack silly jokes. "And always tell those you care for that you love them. I've made the mistake of forgetting far too many times." He had a strange, wise old smile on his face, like he had raised her from birth. His features were youthful; his eyes were worn and ancient and knowledgeable.
She was captivated by him. She sketched him and wrote about him. No one understood her enthrallment with the mysterious man that "didn't exist." She was young, seventeen, and naive.
One rainy Tuesday, he wasn't there. For the first time in years. And the next Tuesday, and the next. On a Tuesday that took too long to arrive, a little blue journal sat on her swing. Blue like the police box he had told so many stories about. A small inscription was on the first page.
Spunky little River Song, you. I'm afraid I won't see you again. But you, you will see me soon. Very, very soon. It doesn't make sense. Stories and songs have beginnings and endings, you see. Like those ood I told you about said. Mine is ending. But the song of River Song is only beginning. We've had amazing times together. More than you can realize at the moment, but when you finally appreciate them, I will not be able to. I'm still not making sense, am I? Just take this journal and write everything down.
Have a good life, River. Save the world.
P.S. My name is the Doctor. And those stories I told you? Real. Every single one.
And that's all you need to know for now.