Chapter Text
It shouldn’t have surprised him that he left the courtroom and fell straight into another adventure. Soldiers and Rusty the Dalek and a miniaturisation ray… just an ordinary Monday. But River’s words kept ringing through his mind.
‘Are you a good man?’
He didn’t know, anymore. He certainly didn’t feel like one.
“You try to be,” Clara had said as she walked out the TARDIS. But the Doctor’s smile faded as the door closed behind her, and he laid a gentle hand on his ship.
“Well, Sexy. What do you think?” he murmured. “The trying; is it ever enough? You still know me, don't you? New regeneration cycle; but am I still the same thief you stole all those years ago? Better? Worse? I wish-” He stopped, shaking his head.
“Ah, I know. You don’t talk in words. Useless to wish otherwise.”
The rotor began to move. Softly, so tentatively that for a moment the Doctor wasn’t certain it was moving; and then faster. Levers flipped, the monitor reset itself; and the TARDIS shot forward so fast that the Doctor skidded on his bum across the floor. Grumbling, he managed to stand up as the ship landed, her doors creaking open.
“Trying to tell me something?” he asked, pushing the door open further to reveal a dim, featureless hallway with a lightning-charged atmosphere... familiar, so familiar that instinct took over and he was walking, taking the turns to bring him to the right place before his mind realised that he knew exactly where he was.
Stormcage. Only a few steps away from River’s cell… He half expected her to be waiting for him, leaning against the bars and smiling. But she was facing away from him, toward the room. The Doctor hesitated, taking in the state of her cell. Stormcage had never been home, officially. Just a base for her to operate out of… and yet, there was an empty, unused feeling about it today. The closet was empty, the bed neatly made. All the little personal effects that were usually tucked around the cell were in a bag at River's feet.
The Doctor licked his lips, tasting the flow of the air and time surrounding him. He was early… very early on her first night. He had managed to arrive moments before his younger self would come to whisk her off to Calderon Beta.
“Well,” River said suddenly, not turning around. “This is a surprise.”
The Doctor cleared his throat self-consciously, tucking his hands in his pockets. “A surprise?”
“Someone coming to see me. And past regular visitation hours…?”
“I don't give a damn about regular hours for anything. Neither do you. Go on,” the Doctor urged. “Tell me I'm wrong.”
“You're wrong.” But River turned slightly as she spoke, shooting him a faintly flirtatious smirk over her shoulder.
“It is you again," she said. "My solicitor... I wondered if your goodbye earlier would really be the last time I saw you.”
It wouldn't be, if one counted his younger self; though of course she wouldn't know that yet. The Doctor managed to smile.
“I do hate goodbyes,” he admitted. “Too final.”
“Yes; somehow I thought as much.” She walked toward him, each footstep slow and deliberate, like a hunter. The Doctor’s hearts felt like they were beating faster; he could hear the double-beat echoing in his chest, thundering in his ears.
“What are you doing?” she whispered. “You didn’t have to come here.”
He hadn’t chosen to be there. The TARDIS had brought him; but the old girl always had a reason. Not where he wanted to be, but where was needed… the Doctor cleared his throat, standing up straighter. His hands weren’t as restless these days, but his thumb tucked itself into his palm, stroking the inside of his ring; and he knew, suddenly, what he wanted from her.
They were so similar, the two of them. Doing what must be done. Save - kill - rescue - sacrifice... shouldering the consequences afterwards.
But River would know. River always knew... Was it ever worth it, what those choices took from you? What they might make you into?
“I want something from you,” the Doctor said. “I didn't ask for any other sort of payment, being your solicitor… and you didn't make it easy. You gave me nothing to help at your trial; no explanations, no possible defences-“
“I’m a psychopath,” River interrupted glibly. “We don’t need explanation.”
The Doctor scowled. “Don’t act so stupid. You’re not a psychopath. They’re born, not made; weren’t you listening in the courtroom? Training can make you capable; circumstances define a situation. But what you do; well, that’s up to you.
“And you,” he pointed at her, “made a choice on that beach.”
River shrugged, the movement sending her curls bouncing around her shoulders. She looked straight at him, her lips curving into a rather insincere smile.
“You know,” she said calmly, “you disappoint me. All during the trial, I never thought you were the same as everyone else, wanting to believe that no one can be so bad they’re unredeemable... clearly, I was wrong. You did want to understand why-”
“I don’t need your explanation of why,” interrupted the Doctor. “I want to know what your choice was. If it was worth it.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” River leaned forward, her hands resting lightly on the bars separating them. “What more could you want? I was trained to kill the Doctor. I was raised and conditioned to kill him.”
The Doctor shook his head. “That’s not the answer I’m looking for. But if you don’t want to say it, then…” His brow furrowed as his mind raced through what he could ask, how he could ask it…
“Tell me,” he said softly, “what you remember about that day.”
“If you like.” River was calm; her breathing controlled, and still with that faint smile on her lips. “But I’d think it's obvious what I remember. The Doctor in front of me. Being inside the space suit. Killing him. A dead body left on the beach, as I ran away from being caught.” Her words were deliberately callous, but he could hear a sudden uncertainty in her voice as her memories blended together, confusing her with the nature of is and was and could've been. A beach and a pyramid. A murder and a marriage.
He moved closer to the bars, noticing that River flinched, her muscles tensing as though she sensed a threat. That one small action only proved how young she was - young enough that what would work now, never would later - but regardless of age, he knew his wife. He knew what to tell her, how to get the answer he was looking for. They’d always been far too good at goading each other.
“Try again,” said the Doctor, his tone encouraging, yet almost insulting. “And make it the truth, this time. Because all through your trial, everyone talked about you looking for a good man. Seeking the goodness that you were sure exists in people. So stop being so damn stubborn and see it in yourself. River Song is a better woman than you're trying to pretend she is, out of some ridiculous idea of guilt.”
He was careful of his voice; each word slipped out more harsh and accusing than the last. And he saw the exact moment she got angry enough to lose control of her emotions.
“What’s wrong with guilt?” River blurted out. Her eyes were furious, her cheeks flushed a dark red as she leaned toward him. “Guilt is a wonderful motivator. The things it can make us do… why don’t you tell me what you’re guilty of?”
“I’m not talking about myself.”
“No, you’re turning this on me. My feelings, my actions; but there’s something in your eyes. What are you hiding?”
“You first.” He looked straight at her, raising his eyebrows. An unmistakable challenge… River never could resist a challenge.
“Go on. Tell me,” he urged. “Tell me what you chose on that beach, River.”
“I chose to save him!” The words burst from her, and she clapped her hands to her lips, horrified. The Doctor permitted himself a smile.
“So difficult to admit?”
“Well, it didn't work, did it? I tried not to be what they made me. Because the Doctor... the stories said that he left Gallifrey because he was the type of person who does the right thing, even if people don't realise his motives. And I thought that if he could be so different, even with those years of tradition and breeding, then I could...
“But I couldn't.” River never really cried, and she wasn't crying now. His wife was so strong, so stubborn. But her posture: fingers clamped tightly on each other, her eyes enormous in her face as she met his gaze.
“I killed him. I tried to save him, and he’s still gone... and you should never have gotten the sentence overturned.” Her voice was quiet, almost swallowed up by the dark stone walls and lightning-charged atmosphere in Stormcage. “What I did... I don't deserve anything. I'm not –“
“Shut up,” the Doctor growled suddenly. “If you're going to say what I think you want to say? Not worth saving? You?”
River didn't say anything. Only frowned, her eyes dropping from his; and the Doctor fought the urge to groan. Hindsight was ever perfect, though he did blame regeneration for making his brain slower, unable to understand... Clearly, he should've told her the truth earlier. He'd known all during the trial that she didn't remember completely what had happened. He just hadn't realised how hurt she was. Trying to save him, thinking she'd failed; the guilt eating away at her.
He remembered feeling like that. His Ninth self, grieving for Gallifrey. His Tenth self, counting the children who'd been lost, repenting the choice he'd had to make. The long years blaming himself, hating himself... until he stood on a pyramid in a time that didn't really exist, facing a woman who would rather kill all of time than him. Who had called into the universe to remind him that he was loved; and despite everything, by no one more than her.
He was a new man, in a new regeneration; and he was still an idiot. Yes; they were alike. So much alike: doing what had to be done, hiding the damage and forgetting to forgive themselves… at least until someone loved them enough to remind them what being a good person really meant to people like them.
“You know,” the Doctor mused aloud, pretending he was talking to himself, “it's amazing what can return as long as it's not forgotten. Things, big and small. Planets, sometimes. And people... haven't you heard the stories about your father? Died and came back so many times he had a frequent visitor’s pass.”
He raised an eyebrow, noticing that River had turned toward him. The Doctor waited, watching as her frown faltered, forehead furrowed in thought; and then her eyes were wide, lit up as a myriad of emotions flickered through their green depths. Hope and a hint of excitement, fear that she had misunderstood...
“No,” said the Doctor, certain he was correctly interpreting her expression. “I'm not lying. I might about other things; but not this. Never about the important things.” He held his hand out, fingers extending through the bars until River very tentatively put her hand in his. He gave it a gentle squeeze, thumb caressing over her knuckles.
“Trust me,” he said. “You didn't trust me your whole trial, but trust me on this. You didn't kill him, River. Those memories, feel them inside your mind, hiding? They're the truth. Your Doctor isn't dead. In fact, you’ll see him soon. He’ll show up here and ask you for a promise. Covering up his death... but in exchange, he’ll take you away. Every night, River. You and him, together.”
“Running through time and space?” She was trying to smile, the corners of her lips trembled but seemed unable to turn fully upward.
“As far,” said the Doctor, “and as fast as you could want.”
She didn't say anything for a long time; just leaned into the bars, her hand still clasped in his and fingers trembling. The Doctor realised that he was trembling, himself. He hadn't lied to Clara about hugging. Not his thing, these days. (In fact, physical contact seemed overly... personal. Far too human a concept for him now, in this new regeneration cycle.)
But this was different, because it was River's hand in his, with the warmth of her fingers against his palm. The Doctor sighed; and River suddenly looked up at him, her grip on his hand almost painfully tight for a moment.
“That's it,” she murmured. “Why you defended me. You knew all along that he wasn't dead... did he send you?”
“In a way,” the Doctor hedged.
River nodded. “Of course. If I’d thought about it before, I would have realised. The stories said he did that sort of thing; calling in favours to help his friends. Even though… well.” She smiled self-consciously, her eyes skipping away from him.
“When you first came into the court... for a moment, I thought that you could be him.”
The Doctor froze. His face felt as though it had just stopped working; he wasn't certain what expression was on it, but it was enough for River to begin speaking uncharacteristically quickly. As though she'd taken on his earlier self's tendency to babble.
“I knew it was impossible - I mean: I’ve seen his earlier faces - and if I was right about what happened on the beach then there couldn’t have been any others." River sucked in a deep breath, lifting her chin until she was looking up at the Doctor. In the dim lights of Stormcage, her eyes were large and luminous; it felt, to the Doctor, like she was looking straight into his soul.
“There was just something about you… No.” She shook her head. “It was everything about you that seemed familiar. The confidence that you can talk your way out of everything. How you dressed up the last day in court… he does that too, you know. Wearing something outlandish, but dressing to the nines for an occasion.
“And you called my Mother, Pond. Made fun of archaeology. Knew about Gallifrey and fixed points; even about time dying... It seemed the more I saw you, the more I could see him in you.”
She shrugged. “I suppose I just saw what I was hoping for.”
Or what you needed, the Doctor suddenly thought. Sometimes we all get what we need… and then he began to laugh. The first time he'd properly laughed in body; and all because of her. His wife.
She’d seen him after all.
And suddenly, everything felt right. Absolutely and completely right; and not just for a fleeting moment. His clothes fit, his mind felt clear for the first time since regeneration. He was about to tell her: you were right. Maybe I am still the Doctor, even after everything.
But he could feel timelines closing in on him. Even the TARDIS could only hold back paradox so long... and the tightness in his chest, his hearts beating faster was a warning. His other self must be arriving, and there was no more time for big revelations.
“Thank you,” he said simply.
River blinked, confused. “For what? Shouldn’t I be the one thanking you? The trial and your defense… you were the one who saved me, remember?”
“Let’s call us equal,” the Doctor said, still grinning. His fingers tightened on River's; he flipped their hands over, bending his head down to press a soft kiss into the centre of her palm. River stared at him, her eyes wide in surprise and her cheeks were suddenly, becomingly flushed.
“Equal for now,” the Doctor said, unable to keep the teasing tone from his voice. “At least until next time. I’ll see you again, River.”
He brushed his lips over her palm once more, before he let go, backing away to keep her in his sight until he turned the corner and hurried to make it to his TARDIS right as he heard his earlier self’s ship materialise. The Doctor closed the door behind him, in a rush to set the coordinates to bring him to the vortex before he relaxed, his hands idle on the controls.
Pond had told him earlier: go save someone. Remember what it's like to be the Doctor.
Well. New set of regenerations, new clothes, a new ring on his finger. And his wife's words, echoing in his ears.
I could see him in you.
Was he really the good man River had chosen to save? Even with blood on his hands, the deaths on his conscience...
He didn't honestly know. Maybe he still was. Or, maybe… he could be.
Only one way to find out. With a grin, the Doctor flicked the controls to send the TARDIS hurtling out into space, in search of his next adventure.