Yowzah Oneshot Collection (3)

199(G)

                      River's Dance

                       Cryswimmer

He looked entirely too pleased with himself, and he knew it. As he set the controls on the TARDIS, choosing his date and time almost at random, he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. He might not have enjoyed the life and death struggle that they’d been through, but at the very least Amy had come to the realization that Rory belonged to her. It was an absolute relief.

The Doctor loved Amy, but it wasn’t that kind of love. He still thought of her as the child he had met – seven years old and eternally trusting – so many years before. She might have lived through fourteen years without him, but it had only been a few hours in his timeline. He enjoyed her enthusiasm and energy, but anything more would just be… wrong.

Most humans were simply children to him. He supposed that was an improvement, though. For years, he had thought of them almost as animals. They had been so immature to him that it was all he could do to associate with them. Now, at the very least, he was able to enjoy their company. He had always seen potential, and he wanted so much to see them develop to be the intelligent and loving species that they were capable of at their very best. This was why he stayed with them, watched them, and protected them. He knew what they could be. Now, if only they would.

But that was a worry for another day. Today, his world was right because the girl – yes girl – he traveled with was finally seeing him as she should. She had realized where her heart was, and that was such a relief. He’d had a few of his companions fall in love over the years, but mostly they idolized him and developed the equivalent of a school-girl crush. Rose had been different, of course, but even then he had known that a long-term relationship would be between difficult, if not impossible. He would never have sent her away, and he cared enough to endure the pain of watching her age and wither and waste away as humans did, but he had to keep a part of his hearts to himself. Humans were entirely too human to get that close to.

And that made him wonder why he had set coordinates for Stormcage once more. River was human as well, and even though his head knew that he would be close to her, would marry her, his hearts couldn’t conceive of any situation which would make that acceptable. He must have done; she knew his name. But what in the great, wild, unbelievable universe would he be thinking?

Likely, he wouldn’t be. Just as he hadn’t thought of where he was going when he had jubilantly plugged in coordinates to show up on her doorstep. Well, as close to a doorstep as she had. He had finally tuned in the coordinates finely enough that he could materialize within her cell. It saved wear and tear on the lock of her cell. The TARDIS liked River enough that if she was walking about, it would settle around her. Another anomaly, the Doctor mused. The TARDIS tolerated most companions, and grew to favor some of them likely because he cared for them and she picked up on it. Over the centuries, the TARDIS had become a part of him, and he of her. It was an unconventional relationship at best. On the other hand, the TARDIS was less likely to physically molest him than most of his companions. Okay, perhaps that was just Amy.

He smiled at the gentle thump as the TARDIS found River’s cell and settled there. He gave her a gentle stoke, feeling the happy thrum from her. Her noise wound down around him as he jogged to the door and pulled it open. As he glanced over at River’s cot, her head jerking up in surprise, he realized that he had forgotten to attend to when this was. Early days or later? He really wished he had looked more carefully. He had started the input, and it was as though the TARDIS had done the rest herself.

“Hello, Sweetie.” She smiled, and she looked pleased to see him, but not as though this was his habit.

He had dropped in recently with increasing regularity, much against his better judgment. He knew better. Their timelines were too complicated, and he was always at such risk for messing up their flow of history. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe it might be better – married – but rather that he didn’t want to create a paradox. He had seen her die, and to change their relationship would change that reality, and potentially kill him. If the fabric of time survived, he most certainly would not… but she would. Some days, knowing too much about your own history was a pure and simple mess.