Memory Space ('River' entry)
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who_contestTitle: Memory Space
Word Count: 440
Rating: PG for angst
Spoilers for ‘Forest of the Dead’
Warnings: None
Summary: River grows into her half-life.
This is a secret: there are times when River regrets that CAL ever saved her.
On days like those she does not wait for the mood to pass. In the Data Core such yearnings can make a Hell out of eternity. Instead she wishes for her best walking boots, engrained with the earth from a thousand different worlds; shoulders the rucksack that awaits her by the door, and leaves without a second glance.
No need for a map or itinerary. Here the hours move with the seamless rapidity of thought. She can begin one trip in Ancient History, where the dust lies thick as snow and the air buzzes with time distortions; take her next steps in the noonday sun over Romance, and still be home before the children think to miss her. As long as she forgets them, they will never be left alone: Doctor Moon makes sure of that.
He is waiting by the kitchen table upon her return, briefcase in one hand and a mug of cocoa in the other. “Good evening, Professor. The children are looking forward to their bedtime story.”
And just like that they are restored, Joshua Ella Charlotte, a surge of love so fierce it is almost painful. River stoops to kiss each of them in turn; perfect little fictions, real as she is. “Hello, my dear ones.” The smell of books is still in the roof of her mouth, and words pound within like her pulse once did, countless lifetimes ago. “Have I told you about the Singing Towers? No? Well. Let me see if I can remember the tune.”
They are (will always be) too young to know the sadness of that song, yet its rhythm holds them nonetheless. The twins huddle close to each other, burrowing into their duvets; Charlotte sits cross-legged at the foot of her bed, her face calm and impassive as its echo in the Library.
“River, do you imagine being back outside?”
The memory breaks over River like a wave, then recedes. “Outside what, darling?”
“Outside this. The Data Core.”
Her first instinct is to lie, but she represses it. Lies can only protect the living. “Yes. I do.”
“Me too. But it’s good in here, isn’t it? A special place.” Something clears from the child’s gaze, a falling-away of centuries, and she reaches out her arms for an embrace. Even when River blinks, the warmth of her remains. “Sing it again, please.”
(Here is another secret: every once in a very long while, at the end of a day in which nobody dies at all, she wants for no other world but this.)
Word Count: 440
Rating: PG for angst
Spoilers for ‘Forest of the Dead’
Warnings: None
Summary: River grows into her half-life.
This is a secret: there are times when River regrets that CAL ever saved her.
On days like those she does not wait for the mood to pass. In the Data Core such yearnings can make a Hell out of eternity. Instead she wishes for her best walking boots, engrained with the earth from a thousand different worlds; shoulders the rucksack that awaits her by the door, and leaves without a second glance.
No need for a map or itinerary. Here the hours move with the seamless rapidity of thought. She can begin one trip in Ancient History, where the dust lies thick as snow and the air buzzes with time distortions; take her next steps in the noonday sun over Romance, and still be home before the children think to miss her. As long as she forgets them, they will never be left alone: Doctor Moon makes sure of that.
He is waiting by the kitchen table upon her return, briefcase in one hand and a mug of cocoa in the other. “Good evening, Professor. The children are looking forward to their bedtime story.”
And just like that they are restored, Joshua Ella Charlotte, a surge of love so fierce it is almost painful. River stoops to kiss each of them in turn; perfect little fictions, real as she is. “Hello, my dear ones.” The smell of books is still in the roof of her mouth, and words pound within like her pulse once did, countless lifetimes ago. “Have I told you about the Singing Towers? No? Well. Let me see if I can remember the tune.”
They are (will always be) too young to know the sadness of that song, yet its rhythm holds them nonetheless. The twins huddle close to each other, burrowing into their duvets; Charlotte sits cross-legged at the foot of her bed, her face calm and impassive as its echo in the Library.
“River, do you imagine being back outside?”
The memory breaks over River like a wave, then recedes. “Outside what, darling?”
“Outside this. The Data Core.”
Her first instinct is to lie, but she represses it. Lies can only protect the living. “Yes. I do.”
“Me too. But it’s good in here, isn’t it? A special place.” Something clears from the child’s gaze, a falling-away of centuries, and she reaches out her arms for an embrace. Even when River blinks, the warmth of her remains. “Sing it again, please.”
(Here is another secret: every once in a very long while, at the end of a day in which nobody dies at all, she wants for no other world but this.)
