Work Text:
Upbeat jazz music. Cheerful chatter. Lively dancing. Cocktails.
River should have been in her element in the nightclub. She’d even dressed for the occasion, choosing a short black flapper dress with elegant gloves – though she still wore her vortex manipulator on the outside, just in case. In Chicago, 1929, this was probably one of the happiest places in America.
But she didn’t feel happy. She felt restless.
Restless.
River thought that the word had never more accurately described her than now. She'd searched desperately for a sense of belonging, a sense of home, but she’d found she no longer had a heart for teaching at the university. She’d abandoned a couple of archaeological digs after only a day or so. She’d even committed a few small, (nearly) harmless crimes, only able to live on the rush she’d felt for a moment before it faded away into disappointment and, yes, even guilt.
Maybe it was because home wasn't a place. It was a person. Or rather, people.
Her family.
River pushed the thought to the back of her mind and took a long sip of her cocktail, wincing at the excessively sweet flavour. The overwhelming taste of honey was obviously meant to mask the terrible taste of the gin.
She didn't complain. How could she, when she had come to this time and place on purpose? Besides, she was on her third cocktail now, and she was almost starting to get used to the flavour. Almost.
But she was starting to feel a dull buzz in the back of her head – the alcohol was doing its job, at least. With any luck, after a few more cocktails, she'd forget that a place called Manhattan ever existed. She might even forget her own name. Oh, to not be River Song, to lose all of her hurt and guilt and pain, even just for one night…
A tall, burly man with close-cropped blonde hair passed by, doing a double-take as he glanced at her. He backed up, beaming a bright smile. “How’s about a dance?” he asked, his look rather more hungry than admiring.
River said something exceptionally rude, especially considering that he had simply asked her to dance. The man sneered at her and walked away, muttering under his breath. River simply didn’t care. If there was one thing she wasn't in the mood for tonight, it was a man’s attention. Only one man's arms would be welcome right now, but sadly he was most likely in the same state she was in, or worse…
She took another gulp of the awful cocktail. It burned a trail down her throat. She wasn't going to think about him tonight. She wasn't going to think about how much she longed for his touch, his voice, his lips, his stupid bowtie—
Her fingers ached and she realised she'd been gripping her glass too tightly. She breathed out a long sigh and let her hand relax.
Forget. It was all she could hope to do, however brief of a reprieve it would be. She could always come back the next night, and the next, and the next…
River clenched her teeth and had the sudden urge to hurl her drink into the wall. She’d get satisfaction from watching the glass shatter, but like everything else, like this night, like all of the distractions, the feeling would only last for a moment.
Then the loneliness would come again.
“I'm sorry, but I can't help but notice you look rather unhappy.”
The voice didn't register as significant. River had another harsh dismissal on her lips as she turned her head.
But then her mouth went dry.
Out of any day, any place, any time…how? How could he be here?
A humourless laugh came from River’s mouth. “Is this a joke?” she asked to no one in particular – God, the universe, whatever there was that had made this happen.
“Why, do I look funny to you?” The man with the long, curly hair and a green velvet jacket looked down at himself. “I suppose it's a bit conspicuous for the times, but I rarely bother to change. I've always thought it's a rather timeless look.”
Considering how ridiculous some of his outfits were, River decided it wasn't all that bad. She’d seen pictures, of course, but seeing him in person…he looked rather dashing.
Stop it, she told herself as she found she was getting distracted by the way his pale blue eyes stood out in the dim lighting. And that jawline…
Stop. It.
He was watching her, holding back until she responded. She knew she had two options: invite him to stay, or push him away. Though she didn't know this face at all, she could see that he was waiting on her before he made his next move.
She knew what she had to do. Even though just the sight of this Doctor and the sound of his silky voice turned her insides to jelly, she had no right to play with him; not even now, when she felt like she had nothing to lose. Not when he was so young. Just from the look in his eyes, she knew the Time War hadn't even begun yet. He was still happy and hopeful, full of excitement for the future.
And yet—
“What brings you here?” were the words that came out of her mouth. She clenched her hand into a fist underneath the table.
What have I done?
Taking it as an invitation, the Doctor sat across from her, folding his arms on the table. “The music.” He nodded past her. If it had been any other night, River would have appreciated the jazz that was making history right behind her. As it was, she was numb to everything.
Everything, it seemed, apart from him.
“And what brings you here? Surely not the drinks, Miss…?”
River paused. She was positive that she was completely sober now, but the presence of this Doctor had sent her mind into a spin. She had already made a mistake by starting a conversation; what were a few more broken rules?
“Song,” she replied. “River Song.” She considered telling him she was married. It would have been the safe, rational thing to do because with any luck, it would be an incentive for him to leave her alone.
But she didn't tell him.
“River Song,” the Doctor repeated thoughtfully. “It's a lovely name. I can't help but feel like I've heard it before.” He fixed her with a look. She didn't need to ask what it meant because she had seen it too many times. No doubt it was the reason he had spoken to her in the first place. He felt like he knew her. The Doctor always did, whether she’d met that particular version or not.
“Rather common, I expect,” River said flippantly. She almost took another sip of her drink, but she found she had suddenly lost the taste for it.
The Doctor hummed noncommittally. “Do you know, I don't think it is. In fact, Miss Song, I think you're a rather uncommon person.” His fingers gently gripped her wrist. River’s heart fluttered at his touch, but she quickly realised that his hand was over her vortex manipulator.
“I picked up high levels of artron energy from this club,” he continued in a soft voice filled with vivacity and perhaps a hint of danger. “I expected to find something dangerous, not someone drinking their problems away.” His gaze softened. “So why don't you tell me why you're here?”
Half of her was ready to freely open up to him, to pour out her heart completely. Luckily, she still had some sense left.
With her free hand, she reached behind her for the small clutch she had carried in with her. She’d have to use the lipstick.
“Well I'm not here to cause any trouble, I can tell you that.”
He continued to look at her, his gaze probing. “Why are you unhappy?”
“Why do you care?”
“Because I think you need help.”
River couldn't help but laugh. “I'm long past that, Sweetie.” She shut her mouth quickly. She was already getting too familiar with him. Her hand reached inside her purse, fingers wrapping around the tube of lipstick…
“I don't think anyone is ever past all help.” His fingers delicately slid to her knuckles and he grasped her hand. “Dance with me.”
River’s whole body went rigid. Absolutely not. It was what she should say before she got any closer. Before he got any closer.
But his touch was like a live wire. Every word he uttered reeled her in. The soft, slightly cocky grin on his face nearly drove her mad. A few minutes into knowing this Doctor, and she was already besotted.
That, and she’d been desperately needing the Doctor for a long time now.
“Why?” It was a question to prolong the inevitable. She had to turn him down, then make him forget he’d ever met her.
He shrugged, beaming a full-on grin now. “Does anyone ever need a reason to dance?”
She could have blamed it on the alcohol. She could have blamed it on him for being so enticing without even realising it. But really, as she stood, her lipstick all but forgotten, she knew there was no one to blame but herself.
The Doctor’s eyes brightened with delight as he led her to the dance floor. There was a swing tune being played, something in the vein of “In The Mood," and River finally realised how extraordinary the live musicians were. They alone were the ones creating such an air of excitement and energy. In one of America's darkest times in history, here people were, dancing and laughing their cares away.
In a moment River found herself in the Doctor’s arms, though she didn't really have time to appreciate the fact before he swept her into the quick and active dance. Though River couldn't say she had actually ever done this sort of dance, she quickly realised that it was impossible to do without smiling. The Doctor looked ridiculous, his curls flailing wildly as he grinned madly and, of course, somehow danced perfectly. River tripped over her own feet a few times, but the Doctor was there to catch her. Before the first song was even over, River was having the time of her life, her sadness and sorrow far away.
After a few songs, River caught the eye of the man she had told off earlier. She looked away, but it was too late. As the next dance began he stalked towards her with purpose, though the slight uncertainty of his gait told her that he was probably heavily intoxicated.
“Friend of yours?” the Doctor asked.
“No.” As she examined the man's face – red and looking like a thunderstorm waiting to happen as he glanced between her and the Doctor – she added, “In fact, he might be quite the opposite.”
Sure enough, the man approached, elbowing past other dancing couples. “So, he's good enough to dance with you?”
River stiffened her muscles and raised herself to her full height. She was used to dealing with men like him. But before she even knew what was happening, the Doctor slid between them, tilting his chin up to meet the tall man's gaze.
“Is there a problem?” he asked calmly.
The man blinked, then transferred his glare from River to the Doctor. “Yeah. I saw her first, pal." He made to shove the Doctor aside, but the Doctor neatly ducked, throwing the man off balance so much that he toppled to the ground.
The scene attracted a lot of nearby attention. River cleared her throat as the man shook his head and began to lift himself up shakily. “I think perhaps we should make our exit now.”
The music stopped. The dancers paused. Whispers and gasps started up as fingers pointed to where the Doctor was standing over the man.
“Sweetie…” River muttered urgently.
The Doctor reached out a hand to help the man up. He took it and promptly pulled the Doctor to the floor, making him fall onto his stomach. The man lifted a hand to bash the Doctor’s face into the ground, but in a flash River had her compact laser gun pulled out from a rather excellent hiding place and was pressing it against the man's skull.
He froze. As did everyone else in the club.
“Not one move or I will pull the trigger.”
The Doctor rolled over, dismay in his eyes as he took in the scene. His eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Miss Song, there's no need.” He stood and straightened his jacket.
The man beneath her whimpered like a dog. “I'm sorry, Miss. Please don't hurt me. I won't so much as look at you again, I swear.”
“Oh, I know.” She lowered the gun. She took in the scene and saw the fear in people's eyes.
“Someone will have called the police,” the Doctor said in an undertone. “We should go.”
But there were already people converging on them, obviously bent on not letting them get away.
Only one thing for it.
River grabbed the Doctor’s hand. She tapped out a string of coordinates on her vortex manipulator. The Doctor’s eyes widened and he tried to pull away.
“No—” But his cry broke off as they disappeared.
A moment later they were deposited several blocks away underneath a streetlight. The Doctor stumbled slightly, tugging his hand out of hers.
“That was all rather unnecessary, don't you think?” He sounded winded, like he was still catching his breath. River found her own breathing slightly erratic, but she was fairly sure it was just the adrenaline.
“In case you didn't notice, that man was about to turn that pretty face of yours into a bloody mess.”
“You didn't have to pull a gun on him.” He frowned. “Where were you keeping that, anyway?” His eyes briefly ran her over. In the flapper-style dress, there was little room for anything but herself.
River couldn't resist. She smiled. “Spoilers.”
The Doctor quickly averted his gaze. A faint blush crept into his cheeks, but he covered his embarrassment by straightening his cravat and dusting down his jacket.
River grinned. The first. The first time making this version of him flustered. But also, very possibly, the last time.
Her original reservations about interacting with him came roaring back. There was no excuse now. She'd have to make him forget, have to leave him in his TARDIS all alone again. Her heart ached at the thought.
“And so it seems I’ve failed.” The Doctor’s voice drew River from her reverie.
“What do you mean?”
“You're unhappy again.”
River huffed, trying to smile. “It seems I always end up that way.”
“Why?” He took a step closer. “There’s a story in your eyes, I can see it.”
“Oh, Doctor,” she sighed. “It's a story that even you don't have time for.”
He frowned deeply.
“What?”
“You called me Doctor.” His look turned to one of suspicion. “I never told you my name.” He advanced another step, the gears in his brain visibly turning. “You called me ‘Sweetie,’ and it's like you know me. I feel like I know you. Like I've always known you.”
Now you've done it, River chided herself. To see the revelation coming over him was so painful that she could hardly bear it, because this was the part where she had to follow the rules.
So she closed the distance between them, grabbed his shoulder, and kissed him.
For a moment, River pushed the reality of what she was doing to the back of her mind. This was something she'd probably never be able to do again; she might as well allow herself to enjoy it.
Besides, for once, the Doctor actually seemed to play along. Normally he went stiff, tried to push her away, or even passed out if she had accidentally applied too much lipstick. But with this kiss, the Doctor came to life. His fingers gently traced along her jawline as his lips insistently pressed against hers. His arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer.
River was in too deep to question it. She practically melted in his embrace, pressing kiss after desperate kiss to his lips. Her fingers curled into his hair and held him firmly in place. She needed him. All this time she’d been trying to find something else to comfort her, when really she had known all along that only he could.
Wet trails made their way down her cheeks. The Doctor pulled away, not too far, capturing her tears with his thumbs. Somehow, his expression radiated warmth and understanding. He no longer looked like a young, innocent version of the Doctor who had no idea who she was, but her husband.
“I remember.”
Well, that’s new. River blinked in surprise, pulling herself together enough to ask, “What?”
“I remember!” He grinned. “I remember you, every time we've met in all of my past lives; and maybe even my future lives, too. River!” Before she could process his words, he pulled her in again for a long, tender kiss.
River pushed him away, working hard to recapture her sanity. She could hardly breathe when he was looking at her like that. “No. No, this isn't supposed to happen.” Then it struck her: she had never put on her lipstick. In fact, it was still sitting in her purse back at the nightclub.
Oh, I’ve really done it this time.
The Doctor’s smile instantly dipped into a frown. “River?”
She kept a hand on his chest, holding him at arm’s length. That was the only way she could concentrate. Even then she felt the pattern on his waistcoat and idly begin to trace it with her fingertips.
She gritted her teeth. Focus.
“I need to go back to the club.”
“So you can retrieve this?” From his jacket pocket he produced her small black clutch.
River gasped. “How dare you!” She grabbed it from him. “You of all people should know not to steal a lady’s purse.”
“I wasn't sure what your intentions were. When I saw your lipstick, I thought I should hold onto it.”
River bit her lip as she reached her hand inside the bag. “And now you're letting me have it back.”
“Yes.” He paused, the look in his eyes once again so familiar. It was the hallmark of their relationship: love and pain, all mixed into something that couldn’t be explained. “Because I trust you.”
River swallowed hard. Tears stung her eyes again. She stared the tube of lipstick in her hand, but hesitated. No matter which Doctor he was, he was still the man she loved.
Did she have to? Did she really have to?
The Doctor placed a hand over hers. “It’s all right, River,” he said gently. “I know what you need to do.”
River took in a steadying breath, battling tears as she uncapped the lipstick. She couldn’t look into his eyes. Her usually practised hand trembled and she had to give more care to applying the lipstick than usual.
She breathed a halting laugh that nearly turned into a sob. “It’s almost harder this way.” She finally looked into his eyes as she capped the lipstick. “Harder than catching you off guard.” She paused, hardly knowing what to say. “Thank you.” Like always, he’d shown up exactly when she’d needed him most.
The Doctor took her head between his hands and placed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Au revoir.” His expression was filled with the sadness of ages as his eyes focused on her lips. But when he leaned forward, River took a step back. She wasn’t ready for this.
Her heart raced. She had to take a moment to organise her thoughts. “Let me walk you back to your TARDIS. It will save me the trouble of dragging you there.” She managed a small smile.
The Doctor let his hands fall from her face. “We can’t have that, now can we? My jacket might get ruined.” He grinned again, springing back into his happy, carefree personality. “Care for a stroll?” he asked, offering her his arm.
River knew they were simply stretching their time as much as they could, but even just the next few minutes would be a priceless treasure. A second spent with the Doctor was never a waste.
So she smiled at him, focusing on this one moment. This night had already been enough to steady her, to bring light back into a life that had seemed void of purpose.
Because he was home. This was all she needed: a moment she could live off of for years to come.
“Yes.” River took his arm. “A stroll would be lovely.”