This is not my first Doctor Who fanfiction, but this is the first that I've deemed worthy to publish, and it is the first written from the point of view of the lovely River Song, of whom I've acquired a newfound respect and love for. Anyways, I hope that you enjoy it and that it makes sense and that you will take the time to review.
Disclaimer: I'm merely borrowing the characters for a little joy ride. In no way do I own Doctor Who.
Wait and See
War was a terrible thing, and this particular one was especially horrible. It had started thirty years ago as a dispute between two neighboring systems over who got the mining rights to the asteroid belt, and eventually grew to encompass nearly four galaxies and five hundred races. Worlds were destroyed, civilizations were buried, and in the aftermath of it all, young medics like River Song were sent in to help those who could be helped and put the ones who couldn't out of their misery.
She gingerly picked her way through the broken city, her first aid and trauma kit clutched tightly in her hand, her laser hanging at her side. She took a deep breath, brushing her hair out of her eyes and back into the tight knot, and put the cloth back over her mouth and nose. Smoke inhalation this close to the fires would be deadly. She looked around at the burning towers and the smoke curling up into the once purple and now red sky. She hated this war, hated that she'd ever left home, in a galaxy far away and untouched by the war.
Five years ago she'd been innocent, impressionable, where war was a word and the thought of helping was lovely and not gut wrenching. She sniffed, blinked back the stinging sensation in her eyes. She hadn't known that she'd have to kill people, despite the fact that killing them put them out of their misery, etcetera, etcetera. This whole war thing worked out so much better on paper.
A raspy cough up ahead drew her out of her thoughts, and she rushed forward, hoping to chalk up another saved. Lying underneath a fallen wall was a man, maybe thirty years old, his sandy blonde hair drenched in sweat and probably blood. He opened his eyes, and she noted that they were the bluest blue ever. He smiled, and she noted dully that there would be no saving this one. His left arm hung at an awkward angle, and she could see at least one, if not more, entry points of shrapnel, far too close to major arteries to be helped. Even if she managed to get the bleeding under control, and get him a blood transfusion, this man would never walk again.
"Hello River," he said, using his good arm to prop himself up against the remnants of the wall. "Fancy meeting you here."
She knelt next to him, following protocol even if this man wouldn't see the end of fifteen minutes. "Do I know you?" she asked while she pulled out a length of gauze. She watched in curiosity as a look of understanding dawned on his sharp features.
"Ah," he said softly, the syllable slipping almost accidentally from his throat. "Timelines. This is the first time you ever met me. So no. To answer your question, no, you don't know me, but you will in time."
She raised an eyebrow. "Time agent?"
He laughed hoarsely. "Something like that. More like a madman with a box," he looked at the bandages now wrapping up his forearms. "Don't do that."
She looked up in surprise, halting the process of cleaning an upper arm wound. "Don't do what?"
"Waste your supplies on me. There are people out there who'll need them more than I do. We both know I'm not going to live longer than fifteen minutes," she pulled back, startled by his bluntness. "You see, normally my body heals itself. Get a new face, new everything. But I've used up my maximum times I can do that. Dying for real this time. Weird feeling."
"All right then," River said, putting her supplies back in the pack. "So what do I do now, considering you seem to know more about this than I do."
The man leveled his gaze with hers. "You've got two choices River. You can let me live for fifteen more minutes, in unbearable agony, or you can use that laser of yours to kill me now. I won't blame you if you choose the latter. Actually, I'd rather you did." The corner of his mouth turned up, and River felt her throat grow thick.
"I don't even know your name," she said, reluctantly pulling out her gun. "How can I kill you and not even know your name?"
"River Song," the man leaned back, letting his head fall against the steel. "I'm the Doctor."
Something inside her broke, and her hands shook. She furiously blinked back tears, wondering why in the universe she was crying for this man, this complete stranger. She wiped at her eyes, and the Doctor raised his hand, stroking her hair.
"Hey, hey. Hush now. You'll see me again. We'll have the best of times together. You just wait," he picked the shiny white gun from where it had fallen in the rubble, and pressed it to her palm. "You just wait and see."
She breathed deeply, swallowed, and took aim. "When?" she blurted out. "When do I see you again?"
The Doctor smiled, closing his eyes. "You're how old now? Nineteen?" she nodded. "Spoilers."
She laughed bitterly, hand clenching and unclenching around the gun. One clean shot to the head, one clean shot to the head…
"You know what's funny about this?" he cracked and eyelid, and looked up at her. "It's means that this whole time, you knew how I die. You don't have to watch," he added softly. She complied; closing her eyes, closing her ears, checking to make sure her aim would be true.
She pulled the trigger.
We'll have the best of times together. You just wait.
Three years later a twenty two year old River Song ate lunch in a park outside of the Time Agency, still reeling from the war that had been over for all of four months. And from across the courtyard a man with the bluest eyes ever smiled at her, and waved hello.
You just wait and see.