Yowzah Oneshot Collection (3)

23(M)

The Interrogation

clare009

"Follow me, Dr. Song."

River Song stood and brushed the wrinkles out of her shocking red, figure-hugging dress. The shoes to match were killer, but the drab interior of the holding bay at Stormcage Containment Facility ruined the effect of the ensemble. This time she had been caught breaking back in to the prison. She lifted her chin and smiled brilliantly at the stoic cleric who stood before her.

"Back to my cage?"

The cleric did not reply. They were trained not to converse with the convicts. He turned on his heel, expecting her to follow. She did - not because she was cowed by the contingent of guards that stepped in line behind her, weapons primed and ready - but because she'd had a rather long night dancing in these heels and was looking forward to putting her feet up and making a new entry in her diary.

River allowed herself a chuckle. She'd met up with a younger doctor this time, so their date had been strictly platonic, albeit filled to the brim with sexual tension of the very best kind. Besides her aching feet, there was another type of ache that she was looking forward to easing.

Her heels clicked against the concrete floor, the only sound besides the clink of gear and muffled boot steps of her guards. It wasn't long before she noticed something odd.

"We're going the wrong way," she said to the cleric in front of her. "My cell is in wing fourteen, you know the one, reserved for only the most dangerous of criminals."

They turned down a corridor she'd never seen before, with tiled floors, whitewashed walls and harsh fluorescent lighting. She'd seen it on the schematics but knew it didn't lead to anything more interesting than empty chambers. The cleric stopped outside one of the metal doors. He brandished a key and opened the door, then motioned for her to go inside.

"One of the higher ups would like to question you about your escapades, Dr. Song," he said.

River's eyebrow shot up. "Indeed. Is this an interrogation? I believe the law requires that I have representation present."

The cleric shuffled his feet. "Please, Ma'am. Just go inside."

"Trust me," she hissed as she walked past him, "the right people will hear about this. I might be a convict, but I still have some rights left."

The cleric locked her into the bare, windowless room. There was one chair in the centre of the room, a fluorescent light dangling overhead. River looked at it with disdain. The minutes ticked by and damn the Time Lord part of her DNA that made her feel every single one of them. Her whole life she had been locked into one cage or room or another. She really should be used to it by now.

After one hour, thirty-six minutes and twenty-two seconds, the door creaked open and someone stepped inside. River turned to face her interrogator, then broke into a wide grin.

"Hello Sweetie," she said. "What are you doing here?"

The Doctor did not smile back. It sent a shiver down her spine. He looked exactly the same as he had when she'd left him some hours before, except his dress was back from formal to the customary tweed and bow tie. She wanted to do things with that bow tie that would make him blush. She very much wanted to make him blush.

"Dr. Song, I presume?" he said as he flashed his psychic paper at her. "As you can see from my credentials, I am a very important man... very. I'm one of the higher ups, you know."

River's eyes narrowed. "Psychic paper doesn't work on me, dear. As you know."

The Doctor looked down at his paper and back at River before he quickly stuffed it in his jacket. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he said, "Just play along, will you?"