attackbrows | {ximilia}

[ The last mission had strained emotions and temperaments, and many had allowed both to get the better of them in the middle of the fight, not that it seems it had made much difference in the end. Some friendships might be stressed for a while, she expects.

It isn't even an argument she and the Doctor haven't had before. He knows very well by now who she is and how she thinks. He should know, too, she makes no apologies for it. Maybe it's her own fault, all that time she spent trying to hide that side of herself.

They haven't talked since the mission. His younger self's absence had been a convenient distraction, but now there's no avoiding it. ]

Are you still upset with me?

[It was only a matter of time before things really being to unravel. Bound by the contract of this station to seek the orbs, no matter the costs. Apparently, that also gives an excuse for the crew to become mental and rush in with their weapons in the air. Another needless battle.

There is no TARDIS to isolate himself in. The best he can settle for is the comfort of the chair he is sitting on, looking onto the chalkboard in front of him with various equations and theorems scribbled all over.

When River approaches the Doctor, he scrubs his face down with his hand.]

No.

[He says quietly, crossing one leg over the other. The Doctor knows River. She was born on the battlefield. Their codes of morality are diametrically opposed to each other. Being cross with her would be an unfair assessment of the root of the problem.]

You weren’t alone in seeking cold vengeance.

[ River hadn't just been born on the battlefield. She's a weapon, shaped for only one purpose. The fact that she has any morals at all is, frankly, something of a miracle. It's less a sense of right and wrong and more a sense of acceptable and unacceptable.

It hadn't simply been about vengeance, not for her. And she tells him as much. ]

It wasn't that, Sweetie.

[ River's darkness might run even colder than that. ]

They would have done it again and again. They'll never stop. They'll never change.

[His brows furrow. How easy it must be to lead on with a pistol in hand. The two lead similarly dangerous yet different lives. Retaliation tends to hit several forks in the road.]

They did it for the orb! The exact reason we were down there. Not to play judge, jury and executioner.

[Death is inevitable. But death isn’t justice. Never was or will be. If it was, his little tiff with the Daleks would have ended a millennium ago.]

I didn’t sign this contract to roleplay as some space marine with pudding for a brain.

[ She doesn't waver, doesn't even raise her voice. ]

This time. They did it for the orb this time.

[ There's a glint of something dangerous in her eyes, anger warring with calm. ]

And you, Doctor, play judge, jury, and executioner plenty. Or did you think using words rather than bullets excuses you from the outcome?

How long have you known me, Doctor? I'm not playing any role. And I'm certainly not a space marine. No one points me at a target and tells me to shoot. Not anymore. You know they aren't the first, and you know they won't be the last. I've killed for better reasons, and I've killed for much worse. But it hasn't been anyone's decision but mine for a very long time.

[He nods.]

So be it, eh? Take away their source to the pulsefire. Take away the orb. No. That isn’t enough. What do I possibly know about facing your worst enemy straight on? Shoot one day. Wash, rinse, repeat until justice is truly served!

[He turns to walk around the corner.]

This is your life now, Doctor Song.

[ She laughs, actually laughs, though it may have something of a hysterical edge to it. But she doesn't follow, just shouts after him. ]

It's 'Professor,' Sweetie.

[ If he wants to insult her, he can at least do it right. ]

And I'm already dead. Or have you forgotten?

[He stops in place. The blue of his eyes turns to look on at her.]

No.

[He sticks his hands inside the pockets of his trousers.]

But I’m also a firm believer in second chances.

[With that, he turns to exit.]

A second chance for what, Doctor?

[ Life? He may be talking to the wrong person. Hasn't she done enough lingering about? ]

To be someone I'm not? I've had quite enough of that for one lifetime.

And our friends on that planet were well beyond second chances, too. Whatever you feel, Doctor, they made their own choices.

[ There's venom in her voice on the word friends. ]

Then what is the bright line then? You pull the trigger and that’s it? You proudly carry on with a badge of honour? Hop over to the next planet. See the next act of injustice and aim directly at the head?

[For all he cares, River can have venom out her pores. That won’t stop him from forgoing his creed. The promise he made himself after the war.]

I didn’t live to be this old just so I can default to some basic bouts of retribution.

Basic. I see.

You don't know me at all, do you, Sweetie?

[ Did she enjoy the violence? Probably still a little more than she should. There's a thrill of adrenaline that's addictive, especially when you've been born into it.

But pride? Honour? ]

Would you like a list, my love? Details, perhaps. And a reason for each so that you can judge my sins yourself.

I don’t need one. I lived it, Sweetie.

[Two assassination attempts. A weapon carved out of the Silence. And yet, here he stands. A testament to both time and madness.]

Do you honestly think that I’m so fragile that your sins will crack my vows to you as your husband?

A fraction of it. You got off lightly.

[ She steps closer, fingers itching to reach out and press against his chest. They stay at her side as she flexes them restlessly. ]

Fragile isn't the word I would choose.

Good.

[His footsteps inches closer to her. He knows that look. If there is anything he can infer from his previous regeneration, he knows that there is about a millennium’s worth of words hiding beneath her eyes. Words that neither of them can ever say to each other.

His hand swoops in and threads between her fingers.]

It doesn’t suit either of us.

Not particularly.

[ Her fingers tighten around his, all the things she can't (or won't) say poured into that single point of contact. ]

I haven't been allowed many choices in my life, Doctor. I won't apologize for the ones I make now.

{ximilia} - ic inbox

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