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paynesgrey_ficsFandom: Doctor Who
Title: The Woman
Author: Paynesgrey
Rating: PG-13 / Teen
Characters/Pairings: Eighth Doctor, mysterious woman (River Song), Eighth Doctor/River Song
Warnings: Post-sexual situation
Word Count: 795
Spoilers: none, really. Takes place before Night of the Doctor.
Notes: Written for the "weakness" oneshot prompt for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
who_contest.
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who.
Summary: She shouldn't have meddled with his timeline, but she had to see him.
“You know me in another time,” she whispered to him, her warm breath kissing his skin.
“The future?” he asked, intrigued and a little scared. He watched her curiously as she lightly touched his bare chest, her fingers playfully stroking the light hairs. This was...enchanting, a little risque for him, but nothing out of the ordinary. There’d been that time with Bernice, and those almost times with Charley.
“Oh, here and there,” she said huskily, her voice becoming a favorite melody in his ear, and she stretched, lifting herself to hover over him. He stared at blonde wild curls that rivaled his. Well, he once had light brown curls, but he’d cut them loose, leaving them in the past as he moved forward into darker times: the Time War.
She found him helping civilians affected by the war. She busted through the fray, guns ablazing. She’d saved lives, and taken a few of them - enemies, well, to the civilians, but he couldn’t say he was happy. He’d yelled at her, raged that in a time like this, every life was sacred no matter what side they were on. The Time War was making enemies of everyone, even him.
“I saved you,” she’d said, “That’s all that mattered.” And the Doctor didn’t remember if he’d needed saving.
The rest of their conversation moved very fast, and soon it wasn’t a conversation. She’d done something to him; kissed him, and he’d felt dizzy, his memory hazy and weak. He hated when that happened, but he’d been himself enough to know she was seducing him, with challenging words, with wicked lips, and with that outrageous hair.
“It’s dangerous, you know, to visit me in the past when you know my future,” he said, drawing her hands off his chest. He met her eyes with all the seriousness he could muster. She merely grinned at him.
“I like danger,” she said.
“You’re messing with my timeline,” he scolded.
She rose an eyebrow. “Get used to it, sweetie.”
“You never told me your name,” he said.
“Yes I did; it’s Rory,” she said.
“It’s a fake name. A cover,” he said with a disappointed sigh.
“Of course. You may remember me later, even in this incarnation,” she said cryptically.
“Pardon?” he asked, but she was already rising and gathering her clothes. He watched her button her shirt, turn her back to him, and lift her hair over her collar, letting it bounce back in place.
Fascinating, he thought.
“I should go. You’re probably right. I’ve meddled with your past too much,” she said, and she turned around. He sat up under the bed sheets, barely covering himself. He drank in her form: large blonde curls, a white jacket, beige riding pants and tall dark boots. She rested a hand over the weapon in its holster. He met her wicked smile and sad eyes.
“But why? Why did you seek me out?” he asked, feeling strangely lost without her already. He hadn’t taken in a companion since Molly, and he’d spent long lonely nights in the TARDIS searching for purpose and trying to stay out of a terrible war.
“I missed you,” she said. “Especially in this form.”
“So I really don’t remember you,” he said morosely.
She cocked her head. “Sorry, not in this body. Not your strong point.”
“No, no, I know what you mean; it is a frustrating flaw,” he said. “Well, I suppose this is goodbye, until the next time. Unless you’d like to take a trip with me…”
She smiled. “As tempting as that is…”
“I could take you to the Space Museum, or what about the Wild Wild West? You’d love it there,” he said, feeling ready to run from this war himself. If only she could give him a tempting excuse…
“No, you have important things to do, Doctor. I know that better than anyone,” she said softly, and she leaned over and kissed him, stroking his cheek lovingly.
She pulled away and he grabbed her hand, his voice almost sounding manic, "Please, tell me something. Tell me the universe will be okay. Tell me I do some good. Anything. Tell me that this misery ends.”
The blonde-haired woman pulled away, sadness painted her face despite her smile. “I’m sorry, sweetie.” She sighed. “Spoilers.”
He watched her walk away, feeling the weight of the universe on his shoulders again. He couldn’t explain it, but in that brief moment he’d been with that mysterious woman, he felt stronger and more confident, as if he could conquer anything and save all of time and space.
Whoever she was, he was anxious to meet her again, but in the meantime he would heed her words, and continue on to fulfill his ominous fate.
END
Title: The Woman
Author: Paynesgrey
Rating: PG-13 / Teen
Characters/Pairings: Eighth Doctor, mysterious woman (River Song), Eighth Doctor/River Song
Warnings: Post-sexual situation
Word Count: 795
Spoilers: none, really. Takes place before Night of the Doctor.
Notes: Written for the "weakness" oneshot prompt for
who_contest.Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who.
Summary: She shouldn't have meddled with his timeline, but she had to see him.
“You know me in another time,” she whispered to him, her warm breath kissing his skin.
“The future?” he asked, intrigued and a little scared. He watched her curiously as she lightly touched his bare chest, her fingers playfully stroking the light hairs. This was...enchanting, a little risque for him, but nothing out of the ordinary. There’d been that time with Bernice, and those almost times with Charley.
“Oh, here and there,” she said huskily, her voice becoming a favorite melody in his ear, and she stretched, lifting herself to hover over him. He stared at blonde wild curls that rivaled his. Well, he once had light brown curls, but he’d cut them loose, leaving them in the past as he moved forward into darker times: the Time War.
She found him helping civilians affected by the war. She busted through the fray, guns ablazing. She’d saved lives, and taken a few of them - enemies, well, to the civilians, but he couldn’t say he was happy. He’d yelled at her, raged that in a time like this, every life was sacred no matter what side they were on. The Time War was making enemies of everyone, even him.
“I saved you,” she’d said, “That’s all that mattered.” And the Doctor didn’t remember if he’d needed saving.
The rest of their conversation moved very fast, and soon it wasn’t a conversation. She’d done something to him; kissed him, and he’d felt dizzy, his memory hazy and weak. He hated when that happened, but he’d been himself enough to know she was seducing him, with challenging words, with wicked lips, and with that outrageous hair.
“It’s dangerous, you know, to visit me in the past when you know my future,” he said, drawing her hands off his chest. He met her eyes with all the seriousness he could muster. She merely grinned at him.
“I like danger,” she said.
“You’re messing with my timeline,” he scolded.
She rose an eyebrow. “Get used to it, sweetie.”
“You never told me your name,” he said.
“Yes I did; it’s Rory,” she said.
“It’s a fake name. A cover,” he said with a disappointed sigh.
“Of course. You may remember me later, even in this incarnation,” she said cryptically.
“Pardon?” he asked, but she was already rising and gathering her clothes. He watched her button her shirt, turn her back to him, and lift her hair over her collar, letting it bounce back in place.
Fascinating, he thought.
“I should go. You’re probably right. I’ve meddled with your past too much,” she said, and she turned around. He sat up under the bed sheets, barely covering himself. He drank in her form: large blonde curls, a white jacket, beige riding pants and tall dark boots. She rested a hand over the weapon in its holster. He met her wicked smile and sad eyes.
“But why? Why did you seek me out?” he asked, feeling strangely lost without her already. He hadn’t taken in a companion since Molly, and he’d spent long lonely nights in the TARDIS searching for purpose and trying to stay out of a terrible war.
“I missed you,” she said. “Especially in this form.”
“So I really don’t remember you,” he said morosely.
She cocked her head. “Sorry, not in this body. Not your strong point.”
“No, no, I know what you mean; it is a frustrating flaw,” he said. “Well, I suppose this is goodbye, until the next time. Unless you’d like to take a trip with me…”
She smiled. “As tempting as that is…”
“I could take you to the Space Museum, or what about the Wild Wild West? You’d love it there,” he said, feeling ready to run from this war himself. If only she could give him a tempting excuse…
“No, you have important things to do, Doctor. I know that better than anyone,” she said softly, and she leaned over and kissed him, stroking his cheek lovingly.
She pulled away and he grabbed her hand, his voice almost sounding manic, "Please, tell me something. Tell me the universe will be okay. Tell me I do some good. Anything. Tell me that this misery ends.”
The blonde-haired woman pulled away, sadness painted her face despite her smile. “I’m sorry, sweetie.” She sighed. “Spoilers.”
He watched her walk away, feeling the weight of the universe on his shoulders again. He couldn’t explain it, but in that brief moment he’d been with that mysterious woman, he felt stronger and more confident, as if he could conquer anything and save all of time and space.
Whoever she was, he was anxious to meet her again, but in the meantime he would heed her words, and continue on to fulfill his ominous fate.
END
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