Yowzah Oneshot Collection (1)

63(M)

the star to every wandering bark

“Well it took you long enough.” His voice is an impatient exclamation that she hears before the smoke has even cleared her vision, and she’s fairly certain the static electricity is still arcing in the air around her, a pleasant hum on her skin.  She sighs, because he has no patience whatsoever, and also – time travel. He hasn’t even had to wait.

“I had to explain things to Amy and Rory – awkward, by the way. And I’m fairly certain she is incredibly angry with you right now, just so you know. Took Vastra and Jenny back to their time, which gave Amy and Rory some time to cool off and absorb everything, went back and take them back to Leadworth. There was tea and uncomfortable silences, Doctor.” She runs a hand through her hair in exasperation before dropping it to her hip as she turns her glare on to the man before her, casually leaning against the wooden doors of his impossible blue box with a grin still plastered across his face.  “They asked all sorts of questions I couldn’t, or didn’t want to answer. I was in Leadworth for almost four hours. Do you know how tedious that was?”

“That village is dull, I know. Try being stuck there sometime. Nothing but old people who want to eat you and even then you welcome that – because at least it’s something to do. Not that any of that was strictly real of course – but it was my dream and I’m sure it’s just as dull as I imagined it to be.” His voice is excited, his face still alight from when she last saw him hours ago. She is sure it has in fact been only minutes for him. “What did you tell them? Amy and Rory? Your parents. Ha! Your parents!” He giggles a bit at that and she walks over to him slowly, shaking her head in amusement.

“The truth. Who I was. That you’d take care of me.” She sighs at that and looks to the left, remembering. When she looks up again, he is standing in front of her, looking down at her like he’s never seen anything like her before in his life. Which, she supposes – he hasn’t. His hands lift and hover in the space around her awkwardly.

“Do I? Take care of you?” His question is soft and she smiles softly up at him, stepping closer until she is inches from him.  She’s known about this moment for a long time now, whispered stories in her ear as he lay beside her younger self. He’d told her fairy tales of the hows and whys of their relationship, pressed kisses to her skin and whispered secrets of the future. Non-interference. She laughs under her breath, because she knows he has and will break almost every rule about time when it came to she and him. He’d begun doing it before he’d even known he was doing it for her.

“Eventually.” She finally responds to his question and his eyes darken, so she lifts a hand and smoothes his bowtie gently. She smiles at the action, and glances back into his eyes. “Some things can’t be changed.”

“I wish...” his voice trails off as he looks down at her, his face wistful and delighted all at once.

“Sometimes I do too. But not at the expense of my entire past, Doctor. It would change everything. If you found me now.” His hands twitch again, as if he wants to touch her but stops himself. So as usual, she takes care of it herself, taking his hand in both of her own as she watches his face closely. The elation will wear off eventually, she knows. The utter joy of who and what she is will settle in to his soul, and he will begin to realize what exactly it means.

“I have to tell them – how will I ever explain that River? That they can’t have Melody back? Won’t ever get her back?” He stares down at their hands, sudden pain flashing across his face. It’s subtle and buried deep, but she can see it plain as day. She swallows and presses his hand more tightly between her own.

“I don’t know. That’s your choice to make, my love.” He looks up at her sharply, his inhale of breath sharp and jagged as his eyes search her face. It is his choice and he has to see that for himself, much as she made her own choice all those forevers ago. She’s never regretted a moment of her life, not even the very bad, very terrible ones. There have been moments in her long life when she was sure she was better off any other way than the way she was, but every moment meant something. And every scar and wound, real or imagined, helped build her. It was who she was. And she could not live in regret about those facts.