Yowzah Oneshot Collection (1)

49(G)7

Chapter 7: legends
Chapter Text
Prompt: River/Doctor, 1920's bank robbers a la Bonnie and Clyde

They are legends.

Everyone knows the stories of the Doctor and his Song - bank robberies and petty theft - con jobs and murders. Everyone has heard about the charming man who could rob an old lady blind, and his gun-slinging moll who always had his back.

The only two people who know the actual story though - are them. And they will tell you it’s not a story about murder or robbery or mayhem.

This is a love story.

Plain and simple.

xx

She met him at her parents’ of all places. One thing you need to know about River Song is that she was a good girl. Well, certainly not the best girl, but she’d kept out of trouble for the most part. But the Doctor arrived one blustery cold day in December, strolling through her parent’s back garden like he owned every inch of the ground he stepped on. She was standing at the kitchen sink, washing the mugs from tea while her mother nattered on about a visitor - someone her Dad had known in ‘the old days’. Which of course, always meant the war - but they never called it that.

She looked up through the window, and saw her father embracing the young man in their garden. He had floppy hair and a rakish sort of charm about him. Something in his smile spoke to her of secrets and shadows and she felt a thrill go through her.

He looked past her father and met her eyes through the window.

And just like that, River Song was in love.

xx

It’s not as though they’d intended to become criminals.

They hadn’t. But the Depression was hard, and she’d left home just to be with him, against her parents’ wishes. She didn’t regret a thing. She kept a small leather bound book that she wrote everything down in - stories of how they tramped around - all across the country and beyond. They never settled - the Doctor was amazing. Amazing. But he had a darkness in him that she recognized - and he could never stay too long in any one place. ‘That’s when the memories catch up with you River.’

He tried to send her home a thousand different times. Told her he was no good, and she deserved so, so much better. But what could possibly be better than him? Nothing, her heart whispered fiercely. ‘You deserve to stand in one place for more than three days, River. This isn’t a life for someone like you. You - you’re amazing. Precious.’

‘Only to you, my love. And I’d run anywhere - as long as it’s with you.’ He found odd jobs when he could. She’d wait tables when she could find places looking for help. But the money ran out long before their feet got tired and she refused to ask her parents for help.

She found an old gun by a dumpster - didn’t even work. But his eyes had gleamed and they stopped at the next gas station and made away with one free tank of gas, eighteen dollars and a lifetime’s worth of exhilaration.

Every journey starts with one small step.

xx

They crossed the country - knocking over convenience stores and gas stations. The thrill was exciting, set their hearts pounding and he’d laugh and press kisses against her skin, swear that he’d only ever love her as he worshipped her body afterward. She knew he meant every word he said - saw it in his eyes, felt it in the way he touched her skin - he handled her like she was the most precious thing in his life.

Eventually they got bored. Restless, and his eyes lit up when she suggested a con this time, not a robbery. ‘Money without guns? A challenge. I like it, River.’ They’d spent a while working those - laughing mercilessly about how he had a face you could trust, and she had talents of her own, though he hated when she used her body to sway strange men. ‘You’re mine.’ he would whisper against her lips and throat and shoulders and breasts later.

She never disagreed.

xx

They got married in Vegas, signed the register and kissed the bride, and robbed the chapel blind.

xx

He was itching for more though, and she could see it in his eyes so the next town, she sat them at a sidewalk cafe, drinking coffee while he read the newspaper and commented about the absolute shit of a world they lived in. She nodded demurely, sipped her coffee and watched the bank across the street.

They drove away three days later with adrenaline singing through their blood and four thousand dollars in the boot of their car.

xx

He’d never meant to hurt anyone, she knew.

It was never part of their plan. They liked fooling everyone. They liked the thrill and the cash didn’t hurt either. But the police had been so close this time, and they’d opened fire. She was driving, and her hat got shot off of her head, and the Doctor - well, nobody hurt her without consequence. He’d opened fire on the three cars behind them, his anger raining down in a hail of bullets and gun smoke.

Three officers died.

He’d cried into her neck that night, as she held him close and pressed kisses all over every inch of his face she could reach. He’d whispered ‘I’m sorry.’ into her skin and she smoothed her hands across his back and gave him the only absolution he’d ever sought - hers.

xx

They were wanted after that. Never stayed more than a day in any one place, and the police tried, so hard to trap them. Corner them, catch them. But she’d push the pedal to the floor and he’d smile at her from the passenger seat, a machine gun in his hands and she nodded in agreement. ‘There’s always a way out.’ He whispered the words before opening fire and the police would stare as they barrelled through impossible odds, wheels squealing and guns blazing.

There was no accepting defeat for River and the Doctor.

xx

It’s a story no one talks about. And nobody tells this story as a romantic tale but the two of them. They ran and ran until the pavement burned their feet, but the saddest thing about every story is that they have to end.

There was always a way out for them - but eventually their escape routes ran out. It was a flat tire, and then another shot out as their car squealed into a tailspin on an abandoned route. She’d swallowed, and looked at him with fear in her eyes, but he’d kissed her and told her - they weren’t going to go to prison. Not them.

They’d kicked out the back window and gunned down five men before one of the policemen shot at the gas tank.
When their bodies were discovered, they’d been wrapped up together - mounds of burning cash and clothes in the trunk, and one small leather book that told the only love story they’d ever known or cared about, pages curling with flame and turning to ash alongside them.

xx

They were legends.