Yowzah Oneshot Collection (1)

78(M)

The smell of freedom is surprisingly similar to the smell of electrical storms - which was, in fact, also the smell of imprisonment.

River wonders if that bodes well for the future.

She stands just under cover next to the huge edifice of Stormcage's outer wall, watching the rain and waiting for the prison transport to come and transport her... away.

She's finally free.

Of course it's not like she didn't have a rather large degree of freedom before, or even like prison life was that terrible when she was there. It had certain things going for it - regular meals, hot showers, free healthcare. The kind of thing one can easily take for granted.

But not any more, River tells herself. Because now, her degree of freedom is endless.

There are so many things she could do, and if only she could make herself admit it, she doesn't have a clue where to start.

So getting off the planet seems like as good an idea as any.

The transport finally lands and the guard at her side nods briefly.

"Thanks, Gavin. Try not to miss me," she says with a wink, hauling her bag over her shoulder before breaking into a grin and a run at the same time.

A couple of raindrops splat on her face and shoulders before she reaches the hatch and climbs aboard, throwing her bag down beside her as she takes a seat. The view from the window as they ascend is magnificent, and one she's only seen once before; many, many years ago. She's left the planet countless times since then, of course, but never like this. It seems fitting to leave the same way she came, now that she'll never have to return again.

She wonders if she'll miss it.

"Excuse me Miss, is this seat taken?" says a familiar voice, the owner of which promptly sits next to her without waiting for a reply.

"Miss?" she ribs. "Come on, Doctor, you can't be that young, or you wouldn't even know to be here."

"Mrs," he corrects himself, leaning in to say the word smugly in her ear.

"I think you'll find that Doctor is my correct title, actually."

"Can't be, that's too confusing. One of us will have to change."

"Well, I've always thought you should just go by sweetie, sweetie."

"And I've always disagreed," he replies happily, leaning back in his chair. "Any plans then, Doctor Song?"

"Oh, sweetie." River grins, turning back to the window. "You know I never make plans."

The Doctor has made some plans, if vague ones - they mainly involve their bed, though they miss it by a good few metres the first time.

It doesn't matter though, because the second and third times they hit it just fine.

"Are you enjoying the taste of freedom then, dear?" the Doctor asks lazily somewhat later, sprawled across the covers and looking like a loose assembly of limbs with the torso added as an afterthought.

River doesn't tell him how adorable he looks; instead she kisses him again with a grin, licking the inside of his mouth before she pulls away.

"Mmm," she sighs, closing her eyes. "Strangely, it tastes like you."

"That is not strange at all," he declares. "I am the personification of freedom."

"Nope," she protests. "Sorry, sweetie, but right now... that's me."