Welcome to Gaia! ::

Erm . . . untill we can turn Whatzit back into something remotely humanoid? And I'd kinda like to have Doc 9 show up for a bit.

Just a little more romantic banter:
“Is my tie straight?” the Doctor asked River as they walked briskly across campus.
“Yes, darling.”
“Is my shirt buttoned right?”
“Yes, darling.”
“Is my hair OK?”
“Darling, your hair has a life all its own. It’s fine. Now stop being such a fashion victim!”
“But River, you look wonderful, and I’d just like to look half so good.”
“Oh, so now you flatter me,” said River, laughing.
“But you do! I love that blue dress you’re wearing. Wherever did you get it?”
You gave it to me, she thought, but just smiled and said nothing.
“It really shows off your figure,” he continued, dropping a few paces behind her to admire the view.
“Oh, dear,” said River, half-laughing, “coming from you, that must mean it makes my hips look huge. Sweetie, I know I’m going to have to tell you this again, and it probably won’t make a bit of difference, but when a woman asks you if something makes her bum look big, the answer is not an enthusiastic yes!”
“Why not?” protested the Doctor. “If you didn’t have hips, you wouldn’t look like a woman!” He caught up to River and put his arms around her. “You have no idea how much I hated that wretched suit you had to wear on Ghehenna. I couldn’t see your body at all. Looked like you were wearing a plastic sack. You are beautiful, River, absolutely beautiful, and I like to be able to admire you!”
River smiled. “I bet you say that to all your human girls.”
His jaw dropped. “Oh, that . . . that’s not fair!”
“So you aren’t denying it?” River teased.
“I’m over nine hundred years old!” he protested, with the little squeak to his voice that let River know she’d better back off. “It’s understandable that I’ve got a history . . .”
River gave him a quick peck on the cheek and continued walking. “It’s all right, Sweetie,” she said. “You know it doesn’t bother me. I like ancient relics with a history to them–I am an archaeologist after all.”
The Doctor spluttered a little, but followed her.
“What’s all that?” he asked as they rounded some shrubbery in front of the University Museum.
“Those people? The media, probably,” said River. “This gallery opening’s big news.”
“Oh, I can’t . . . I can’t be seen. Not by the media!”
“Why not? Your hair is fine . . .”
“No, you don’t understand, what if I’m recognized . . .”
River sighed. “I do understand. You don’t want to be part of the exhibit. Of course. My bad. I should have warned you. Do you want me to sneak you in the back way?”
“You can do that?”
“Of course. It’s my exhibit!”

“Poor thing really shouldn’t be standing there naked,” said the Doctor glumly, gazing at the bald, eyeless mannikin. “She looks so cold. Not to speak of embarrassed. You do realize what she is, don’t you?”
“Please don’t tell me it’s a child’s doll,” said River.
“Oh, no–Gallifreyan children would never be given so frivolous a plaything as a mere doll.” The Doctor chuckled sadly. “We treated our children like tiny adults, and yet in some ways our adults behaved rather like children. No, this was the prized possession of one of the crew. Probably a woman, maybe even Madame President herself. But it is a doll. It was a custom among Time Ladies–and a few Time Lords–to own one or more dolls, dress them, name them, carry them about. I never really gave the custom much thought, seemed silly to me.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “I realize now they were surrogate children. You see, the females of our species had been sterile for so long that whole mythologies had been built around the phenomenon. We reproduced using what we termed “genetic looms,” sort of a cloning technique. Infants were tended by android nursemaids, and children never even met their genetic parents until they were at least seven years old. And yet after ten million years, the instinct to mother something still existed.”
River stifled a comment on the Doctor’s own latent biological urges as a very, very cheap shot. Instead she said, “Perhaps I can see if the studio that made the recreated clothing for the exhibit could dress her as well. And she really needs eyes. And hair.”
“You should take her home with you,” the Doctor said. “She’s lonely.”
They spoke together in quiet tones, to keep from being overheard. In the crowded exhibit hall, it was difficult to make out more than snatches of even the loudest conversation. However, one woman’s voice rose above the murmurs, and River and the Doctor turned at a loud “Oh, there you are, dear!” to face a short, plump woman with very red hair and a bright, beaming smile.
“Mother,” said River, “I want to introduce you . . .”She grabbed the Doctor’s arm; a quick glance at his face had shown River he was ready to bolt at the word “mother.”
“You must be John Smith!” the older woman said, reaching out to shake the Doctor’s hand. “I’ve been hearing so much about you! I’m Catherine O’Shaugnessy Song. So pleased to finally meet you!”
“Ah, right,” said the Doctor, with an expression that let River know that he apparently feared his lovers’ mothers more than Daleks.
“Just call him ‘Doctor,’ all his friends do,” said River.
“Yes, most of my enemies, too,” the Doctor added. River decided it would be best to steer the conversation back to academic topics.
“Mother,” she said, “did you see this lovely figure here?” She indicated the case with the doll.
“Oh, River, look at that delicate carving . . . I’m so jealous!” her mother exclaimed. “Leaving the historical value aside, you’ve got some of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen here . . . The jewelry, and the clothes you’ve reconstructed . . . Obviously, the people of Gallifrey had a strong aesthetic sense and a love of complex ornamentation. And this little lady–look at her, her fingers and toes, and the jointing . . . She’s remarkable!”
While River engaged her mother in an animated discussion of the doll’s finer details, the Doctor managed to slip away into the crowd. On noticing he was gone, Catherine Song said, “So that’s the heartbreakingly handsome man you’ve been seeing?”
“What’s wrong with him, Mother?” asked River.
“Oh, nothing, dear! He’s just not what I expected. From all you’ve been saying to me, I was expecting a Twentieth-Century American movie star. Someone who looked say, like that chap over there,” she said, waving at a man laughing loudly amidst a pack of dignitaries. “And here I meet him,” Catherine continued, “and he’s this poor little pop-eyed sliver of a chap with bushy eyebrows. . .”
“Mother!”
“Oh, I’m sure you adore one another. Actually, I’m happy he’s such an odd little duck. You must really love him.”
“Yes. Yes, I think I do,” River admitted.
“And does he love you, do you think?”
“I really can’t say . . .”

gonk

River decided it was high time to change the subject–if that was possible with Jack Harkness. She wasn’t sure that it was. “So, Jack–I may call you Jack, mayn’t I?”
“Call me anything you like, Beautiful.”
“What do you think of the exhibit?”
“The layout’s interesting,” said Jack. “How you’ve put the Daleks in one room, and the Time Lords in the next. And have you noticed how everyone’s staying in this room, or the foyer, and if they absolutely have to pass through the room with the Daleks, they rush?”
“Can you blame them?” asked the Doctor.
“Nope. Daleks have no design sense, and you’ve captured that perfectly.” said Jack. “Their room’s dark and claustrophobic. Come in here, it’s all high ceiling and soft mood lighting. And the brass railings and velvet couches are a nice touch, River. Did you actually find a couch on Ghehenna?”
“We found parts of some furnishings, yes,” she said.
“Well, you need to re-decorate his TARDIS next,” Harkness said. “His console room’s held together with bicycle clamps and duct tape. And Doctor, I’m sorry, but that manky old sofa of yours has got to go.”
“That couch holds a lot of memories,” the Doctor protested.
“And, tragically, none of them involve me,” sighed Jack.
Nope, he can’t change the subject, thought River.
“Really, River, see if you can’t get him to spruce the place up a bit,” Jack continued. “It’s a dump!”
“Oh, I don’t know,” River said mischievously, “the bedroom’s quite nice. Or it would be if he ever picked up his socks.”
“And now you give me a nice paper cut and pour lemon juice on it!” said Jack. “All I ask is that, just once, Doctor, you have a regeneration that shops my side of the aisle. Honestly, I really thought I had a chance with you the last time, but you changed and now it’s all girls, girls, girls!”
“Hate to break it to you Jack,” said the Doctor, “but I was only flirting with you to try and make Rose jealous.”
“Did it work?” asked Jack.
“No,” said the Doctor. “She was still sweet on idiot Mickey.”
“Or it could have been the ears,” Jack suggested.
“What was wrong with my ears?” the Doctor demanded.
“Does the name ‘Dumbo’ ring any bells?” said Jack.
“And yet you still fancied me,” the Doctor countered.
“Hey, I know inner beauty when I see it! Besides, big ears . . .”
River decided it was time to start mingling again. “Obviously, you two want to be alone,” she said. “I’ll just go see if the Provost needs anything . . .” She slipped out from the Doctor’s arm, taking the tray of canapes from his hand as she left.

River spent the rest of the evening accepting congratulations on the success of the exhibition and answering questions about the artifacts and the dig. The last group of university big-wigs went home around two A.M., leaving River standing alone outside the museum. As she turned to go back inside and inspect the exhibits one more time before the security staff locked the building, she heard Jack Harkness call out behind her:
“Hey, Beautiful! Where’s your boyfriend?”
“Don’t know,” said River, turning with a smile. “Haven’t seen him in hours. Probably went back to the apartment. Or left. This was not a happy occasion for him. Really, I’m surprised he put up with it as long as he did.”
“Yeah, it’s a little weird having your entire past reduced to a room in a museum. Trust me, I’m old enough to know. So, you’re going back in?”
“Just want to make sure the lights are turned down and no one’s spilled a drink on the Dalek before they lock up.”
“You know it’s a funny thing about the Daleks of Ghehenna,” said Jack.
River braced herself.
“Not a week after your party returned, the system’s sun went nova. The planet was completely obliterated. No warning.
There was warning, River thought. They were warned . . .
“Seems an awfully odd coincidence, doesn’t it, that an apparently stable star would collapse like that,” Jack continued.
“I wouldn’t know,” River said. “My specialty is archaeology, not astrophysics.”
“I think you know what happened,” Jack said.
River stopped in her tracks. “Of course I know as well as you do what happened! And Torchwood plans to do what, exactly, about it?”
Jack shrugged. “Nothing at all. What could we do? What could anyone do? I just wondered if he’d you know, said anything to you.”
River looked away “No, and I haven’t asked. How could I? I sleep with him, for God’s sake! Do you think it’s easy for me to be in love with a creature capable of such a thing?”
“You’re good for him, you know,” said Jack.
“What, I’m supposed to be his conscience?”
“He has a perfectly functional conscience of his own,” said Jack. “Sometimes a little too functional. No, your job is to give him a good, swift kick in the pants when he gets bogged down wallowing in all the guilt . . . And speaking of . . .” Jack paused. “Shh . . .”
They stood at the doorway into the Dalek exhibit. From the room beyond came a soft sound: a man’s voice singing in low, mournful tones.
emo
“Oh dear,” said River. “Does he sound drunk to you?”
“Plastered,” said Jack. “Get ready to administer that kick . . .”

Well, he DID warn them . . . besides, you're right about the possibility of Dalek DNA stuck under the couters on board the Lupine . . . mrgreen

Hey, I've been juggling 3 jobs, and Sam was home on Spring Break. Cut me some slack wink .
Still, here ya go, ALL OF The end:
“It would probably be better if I just dragged him home and poured him into bed,” said River.
“You can’t talk him into sobering himself up?” asked Jack. “He can do it . . .”
“If he’s not too far gone,” said River. Bracing herself for whatever foolishness her lover was about to put her through, she marched through the Dalek room to the Gallifreyan exhibit hall, Jack close on her heels.
The Doctor lay on one of the couches, an empty champagne bottle in one arm and the doll in the other. He was singing to it. More bottles littered the floor near the couch. River just shook her head. He’s been alone what, 20 minutes? Where was he hiding with all that booze?I think I am going to kick him . . .
“All right, Doctor,” said Jack, “put down the baby doll and no one gets hurt.”
“She’s no’ a baby doll,” the Doctor protested. “She’s a Lady!”
“Ho-Kay!” said Jack, rolling his eyes. “Thought I was weird . . . Just goes to show, the more repressed the culture, the freakier the porn . . .”
“Jack, could you get your mind out of the gutter for one second, please? And how did you even get the doll out of the case?” she asked the Doctor. “Oh, never mind,” she added when he gave her a blank look. “You probably just sonic’ed the lock.”
“Whoa, is ‘to sonic’ a verb now?” asked Jack. “Talk about taking indecent liberties . . .”
River ignored Jack and knelt down beside the Doctor. “Sweetie,” she said gently, “it’s time to come home. You aren’t doing yourself or anyone else any favors sitting here feeling sorry for yourself. And they have to lock the exhibit.”
“Y’know,” he mumbled, “Megan’s changed ‘er major. Not gonna be archaeologist. Studyin’ English Lit. An’ Po’s dead, and HistoryBob’s dead, and Sideshow’s in hospital, and Sally’s got an android leg . . .”
“But she’s alive,” countered River. “None of us would have made it back alive if it hadn’t been for you.”
“But you shoudn’t’ve gone,” said the Doctor. “I should’ve kept you from going, I should have known . . .” He hung his head. “I thought when Caan said ‘the end of the Daleks,’ I though it meant ALL Daleks, but of course he didn’t bother with the ones on Ghehenna, because he’d seen the future and already knew I would destroy them . . . I hate having to keep the Universal Causal Nexus straight. Gives me a headache.”
“Sure it’s not the champagne?” asked Jack.
“And all those dear students, having to carry guns and bombs,” the Doctor rambled on. “You know he was right, Jack. I turn perfectly innocent people into killers. And I destroy planets. I ought to be dragged out and shot.”
“Oh, please,” said Jack before River could ask who they were talking about, “are you really going to worry about Davros’ opinions? Gimme a break! He was a classic abuser: does terrible things to you, puts you into impossible situations, and then tries to make you blame yourself when you try to fight back. Believe me, I know–had a lover like that once.”
The Doctor gave Jack a hard squint. “You saying Davros was my, my boyfriend?”
“Well, you did seem kinda anxious to save him there. Personally, I draw the line at wrinkled, eyeless gimps with no oral hygiene, but your personal life is up to you . . .”
“I think I’m gonna’ be sick!” the Doctor announced, gagging.
“Shut up, Jack, if you can’t say something helpful,” snapped River, taking the Doctor by the shoulders. “Sweetie, not on the couch, please!”
“No, no, I’m all right,” said the Doctor. “Gonna be all right . . .” He stood up, wobbling a bit. “Whoa, the floor’s moving . . .”
“No it’s not,” said Jack. “River, you take the doll, I’ll take the Time Lord.” River grabbed the artifact before the Doctor could drop it, and Jack put an arm beneath the Doctor’s to support him.
“Oof,” said Jack as the Doctor half-collapsed onto him, “you’re heavier than you look . . .”
“He’s one solid strip of muscle under that suit,” said River, moving under the Doctor’s other arm.
“Yeah, just rub it in how well you know it, why don’t you?” Jack asked. “Come on, old friend, one foot in front of the other, that’s the way . . . We’ve got a taxi waiting, we’ll get you back to the Professor’s apartment . . . say, River, don’t suppose you’d need any help getting him undressed and into bed?”
“No thank you, I think I can manage on my own,” said River, smiling.
“Well, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask . . .” said Jack.
“Hope springs eternal,” mumbled the Doctor, “in Jack Harkness’ trousers . . .”

River spent the next day at her computer console answering a mountain of “congratulations” messages. The Doctor emerged from the bedroom about midafternoon.
“River?” he asked softly, running his fingers through hair which had decided to stand sideways off his head, “did I make a perfect a** of myself last night?”
“Sweetie, I think your a** is always perfect.” She grinned at him. “Really dear, no one saw you drunk except for me and Jack.”
“Jack . . . I remember talking to Jack . . . He compared Davros to an abusive boyfriend . . .”
“Who’s Davros?”
“Not my boyfriend!”
“Well, I could have guessed that, but who is he?”
“Nut job that created the Daleks.”
“Oh yes, I remember now, you mentioned him on Ghehenna.”
“He hates, well, hated me, because I was always destroying his creations.”
“Well, if he hadn’t made them such violent little beasts, you wouldn’t have had to!” River stood up and moved to the cupboard. “Let me get you some tea, darling. You must be feeling poorly.” She opened a cabinet. “Would you like ginger or peppermint?”
“Ah, ginger, I guess . . .” He looked down at what he was wearing. “Where did these pajamas come from?”
“From the closet.”
“Yes, but whose are they?”
“Yours.”
“I keep pajamas in your closet?”
“Yes, and a spare suit, and some shirts and neckties, and an extra pair of running shoes . . . You’ve got your stuff all over this apartment.” She brought him a mug of tea. “Now sit down and drink this, Sweetie. It’ll settle your stomach.”
“How do you know my stomach’s upset?”
“This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you roaring drunk, my dear,” River said with a smile.
The Doctor sat down on the couch and took the tea. “I’ve really been making myself at home here, haven’t I?”
“M-hmm.” River nodded, then put and arm around the Doctor’s shoulders. “Finish your tea, then go have yourself a long, hot shower. Your hairdryer, and your comb, and your mousse, are all in the medicine cupboard. You look a mess!”

An hour and a half later the Doctor returned from the shower looking properly spiffy. “There’s my Pretty Boy,” said River, beaming. “I love your hair. It’s adorable.” She put her arms around him and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.
“I suppose I haven’t properly congratulated you on the success of your gallery opening,” said the Doctor.
“I will consider myself congratulated,” said River.
“So–what next?”
“The University’s accepted my request for a sabatical,” said River. “For the next six months, I figure I’ll just travel.”
“Travel? Where?”
“Oh, I was figuring you would decide. At least to start with.”
“You want to come with me?” asked the Doctor.
“Of course! Every time you turn up here, it’s always with another story of another amazing adventure. I want to get in on the action!”
“But River,” protested the Doctor, “it’s dangerous!”
“My life was dangerous before I met you,” River countered. “Get my mother to tell you sometime about the excavation of the Temple of the Cataclysm on Woman Wept, when the counter-revolutionaries took over. I’m tired of just sitting here waiting to warm your tea and your bed. I want to share your life, Doctor.”
“But River, you don’t understand–bad things happen to the people who travel with me! Terrible things! The last friend I took with me ended up suffering near-fatal brain-damage and permanent memory loss! The one before that, her family was taken hostage and tortured! I’m . . . I’m dangerous! I’m not safe!”
“If I wanted a safe lover,” said River, drawing the Doctor close in her arms and staring up into his eyes, “I would have stayed with Roger. Doctor, either make me part of your life or let me go. I don’t want to stay an afterthought for the rest of my life.”
“River . . . I . . . I could be the death of you. And then what would I do? How can I learn to live with you, only to have to learn to live without you?”
“Doctor, everyone dies.”
“I don’t. I change, yes, but I don’t die. Rassilon dumped so much energy into me at the last, I have no idea how long I’m going to live.”
“And I’m mortal,” said River. “So this can never work, and it’s over between us?” She tried to keep her voice steady, though she could feel the tears pricking the corners of her eyes. Prince of the Sidhe, she thought, remembering her mother’s Irish folk tales, and me the poor peasant girl waiting on the fairy hill to be swept away . . .
“River, I . . . I didn’t say that. It’s just . . . This can only end badly. For me. And you . . . are you willing to risk losing everything? Your life, your career, this university? Your parents, your students?”
“Doctor, for you, I would walk away from everything without a second look,” said River, and though her words surprised herself, she knew she meant them. “How could I not? You are . . . I haven’t even got the words for what you are, and I would die gladly to be even the smallest part of your life.” She paused. His eyes were very dark. She thought she saw tears in them. “But I don’t want to hurt you. You’ve already suffered so much . . .”
“Oh, nah, don’t worry about little old me,” said the Doctor, pulling away and turning to the door. “I’ll be fine. You want to tag along, tag along. Just get your things . . .”
“Already packed,” said River, marveling at the Doctor’s sudden change but not wanting the moment to slip away. She picked up a shoulder bag from the end of the couch.
“That’s all you’re taking?” asked the Doctor, turning to look.
“It’s all I need.”
“All your clothes?”
“I’ve got all of time and space to find clothes in,” said River. “This is just toiletries. Girly stuff. In case we land somewhere they haven’t invented deodorant yet.”
“Brilliant!” the Doctor said with a grin. “Allons-y!” He opened the door.
“Wait,” said River. “Is this really what you want?”
“I’m not sure I have any choice,” said the Doctor.
“Why? Because I’ve told you you keep leaving your stuff here in your future?” River shook her head. “Time travel–such a pain in the a**!”
“You have no idea,” the Doctor agreed. “But yes, I do want this. I want you! I want you with me. I hate being alone! Hate it more than, than anything. And since I know I’m going to be alone again sooner or later . . .” He put his arms back around River’s waist. “Later’s better than sooner. Might as well try and see how long we can put it off, yes?”
“Absolutely.” She kissed him.

Once they finally left the apartment, the Doctor was back to talking full-speed. “I was thinking,” he said, “since you’re an archaeologist, you like old ruins, and I know these wonderful ones on a beautiful planet . . . It’s got rings, and they look like a huge rainbow crossing the entire sky, so explorers called the planet Asgard, because of the legend of Bifrost, the rainbow bridge of the gods . . .”
If a Time Lord talks in a forest, River thought, and no one’s around to hear him, is he still clever?
"I haven’t got anything to eat on board the TARDIS but some chocolate and sardines at the moment. Do you know anywhere we could get some food? We could have a picnic . . .”
River Song just laughed.