Characters/Pairings: Eleventh Doctor, River Song, hints of River/Eleven and Rose/Ten
Warnings: Spoilers up to and including The Wedding of River Song, angst, timey-wimey nonsense
Disclaimer: I don't own anything in relation to this.
A/N: Me trying to clean up Moffat's mess - basically, how I want it all to be explained
Summary: The coordinates for Amelia Pond's house are set into the TARDIS control-panel, appearing moments before the Doctor walks back inside, ready to regenerate. He put them there. Or he will. Years from now.
The coordinates for Amelia Pond’s house are set into the TARDIS control-panel, appearing moments before the Doctor walks back inside, ready to regenerate.
He put them there. Or he will. Years from now.
You see, it’s all just a bit wibbley-wobbley, timey-wimey
In retrospect, what the Silence is doing makes no sense. He dies at Silencio Lake in Utah, no matter what. It’s set. It’s always been set. A fixed point.
He killed her niece – Madame Kovarian that is. Not on purpose – for all that he might be ruthless and cold-blooded, he prefers not to think of himself as someone who would just…
It happens, anyway. Another planet, another being dead-set on ending the world, on using everyone else. And he has to stop it.
He wonders, sometimes, if it has become too easy to destroy so many lives. He tells himself it’s worth it: like killing one person to save five others. It’s a situation where the weight tips the scale, and five people weigh more than one.
Sixteen billion weigh more than five hundred. But when you say it, just like that….
Five hundred people killed in one day. By him.
Maybe he can understand why Madame Kovarian is so hell-bent on her revenge. In a way, isn’t he just the same?
That’s why it had to be Melody. Madame Kovarian didn’t want the Doctor to just die – if she had wanted that, she would have merely let the events at Silencio Lake unfold as they would have always unfolded. The Doctor getting shot by a mysterious being, rising from the lake.
No, she wants the Doctor to feel as much pain as possible. She wants the Doctor to look into the eyes of a loved one, and know that they are about to kill him.
Ironically, if Madame Kovarian hadn’t chosen Melody – if she hadn’t honed and honed until River Song emerged, obsessed with the Doctor in every aspect – he would have, most likely, actually died. There would not have been the warning sign, the giant omen written across the face of a sly woman, jumping in and out of his time-stream like she had always been there.
Curly hair and dark lashes, and she had saved his life.
Ironic, all that. That he should meet River Song just before she dies. That he shouldn’t know her, but then know her after that, know how to act and respond to her – discover what she was.
What a coincidence that he should land outside Amy’s house, a pre-destined thing, as if River Song, trickster goddess, had led him there herself.
Of course, River Song didn’t. Sneaky and brilliant she might be, but she didn’t have that kind of control of his time-stream.
It was the other way around.
He tells himself it’s worth it. Tells himself that he has saved millions of lives, that there is still so much to do, that the Silence, that dreadful organization will continue on and it is his job to stop them.
He tells himself that breaking Amy and Rory a little bit is alright: they live on now. They’re the ones that got away, the example he can use to convince himself that he is not as dark and twisted as the things he try to stop. He tells himself that, when it comes down to it, five hundred weigh the least on the scales and so Madame Kovarian’s sweet little niece dies. He tells himself that, when it comes down to it, the lives of his people are a worthy prize for every other being in existence.
He tells himself that the life of one little girl, doomed to forever follow in his wake, is a small prize compared to all the other lives that need saving.
He convinces himself that it isn’t just to save his own skin.
Because of course, coincidences don’t just happen.
He’s outside – the earlier him. Saying one last goodbye to Rose Tyler, before stumbling on, into the TARDIS, this regeneration-process so powerful that it will set the TARDIS on fire.
The coordinates are already set. He won’t notice until he’s doing repairs much, much later, and by then he won’t think of it. Not until he is standing in a lake, facing his not-quite-death there.
He only has a few minutes before he – the other him – sees him, and it only takes a few minutes to code the way to Amy’s house into the operating system. Fire or not, the TARDIS will get him there.
The Doctor leaves the TARDIS, just barely avoiding past-him and takes a slow walk back, not thinking of a little shivering girl in an orphanage or a curly-haired woman that should have never been, but now will always be.
He has a duty. He tells himself he’s not a coward for not trying to change anything. That he was always meant to do this, and so he has to do it. That the choices have been taken from him. It’s an excuse, but it’s one he clings to.
You see, it’s all just a bit wibbley-wobbley, timey-wimey. Or so he tells himself.