Chapter Text
The Doctor grips the lever, her knuckles turning white. Her friends had gone back to Sheffield with strict instructions that she not return until the next week. They all liked to do that nowadays, her companions. No one just wanted to stay on the TARDIS for years at a time anymore, all of them had homes and families and jobs they wanted to get back to.
Well, she amends mentally, they’ve perhaps always had homes and families and jobs to get back to but it was only now that she drove well enough to get them there - well sort of there - that they were able to do so. But them being able to do so meant the Doctor is once more alone and alone with her thoughts in the silence is never a good place for her to be. It leads to her spiralling - thinking about the past and the future, wanting all the things she can’t have, and then, as is the case now, doing something stupid to get it.
‘Pull!’ a voice in her mind pleads. ‘Take us back there.’
She isn't sure if that voice is the TARDIS’s or her own - at this point, it could be either or both as the anticipatory thrumming of the ship’s rotors matches that of her own hearts.
She shouldn't. It’s too risky. Definitely a bad idea.
‘But it was alright the last time,’ the voice replies, niggling and desperate.
But she doesn’t know that for sure - and even if it was, how many times until it wouldn't be? How many visits until she’d changed so much that there was no recovering from it?
The last time had broken the dam on all those feelings she'd carefully tucked away. All the rules she'd curated for herself - to never look back, keep moving forward so she doesn't end up wrapped in paradoxes trying to hold onto the people she loves. And now that’s all she wanted. Go back, risk their lives together just to see her wife once more. No, it may not have broken time but it also wasn't enough and this visit wouldn’t be either.
Taking a deep breath she pulls the lever, damning herself in the process.
Her ship lands and it's done. They’ve either made it or they haven’t and surely, the TARDIS would know and divert them if it put the timeline in too much danger. At least that’s what she tells herself - never mind that her ship longs for its daughter as much as the Doctor longs for her wife.
She throws open the doors, absorbing it in. Dusty desks, chairs and a lectern. From the window, she can see the Earth in the sky, a glowing blue beacon.
The Moon. 51st century. Disused classroom.
The relief is so overwhelming she has to press a hand against the door to keep herself steady.
As her emotions begin to settle, the Doctor ventures out into the hallway.
She decides then, as she wanders, that she won’t talk to River again. She can just watch from afar and it would be enough. There would be less chance of any damage if they don't interact and it’ll allow for more visits - maybe between adventures when the longing in her hearts is too much to bear.
From a few posters announcing when finals were, she works out that it's been roughly three years since her last visit, and that River would be receiving her undergraduate degree in a few short weeks.
It doesn't take her long to find her wife with this information. She knew River and she knew that at this point in her life, she'd be stressed and revising for exams. Which meant she'd be stopping by frequently at the coffee shop below her flat.
***
Low murmurs of conversation fill the air, punctuated only by the hissing of the espresso machine and orders being called out. Sleep-deprived students occupy most of the comfy mismatched chairs, their books and halo-tablets splayed out in front of them and stacks of empty cups occupying the remaining space on the tables.
The Doctor has placed herself in a secluded corner, her own book in one hand to quickly hide her face if the need arose and a decaf coffee in the other because the barista made her buy something and she was already restless enough without the caffeine.
As she predicted, it doesn't take long for her wife to show up.
River’s golden curls are up in a messy bun, the hair tie straining to hold onto all that hair as some strands slip forward to frame her face. She's wearing a ratty oversized T-shirt and there are dark circles underneath her eyes, which only work to emphasise the intimidating glare she's shooting at the barista.
In other words, she looks beautiful.
The poor boy takes one frightened look at her and, even though there are three people ahead of her, waiting to order, he’s hastily preparing her drink.
River takes it with an approving smile and the barista blushes. Ah, so not intimidated then, just enamoured, she thinks with some amusement.
They begin chit-chatting and the Doctor leans in closer so she can hear.
“How are exams going?” The barista asks.
River groans. “I’ve just spent five days cramming every single topic he told us would be important, only for none of them to be on the test. Do you think we’d all pass if the professor were to meet with a mysterious accident?”
The barista laughs, probably under the impression she’s joking. “You can try but I bet getting expelled will hurt your grades more.”
River raises an eyebrow. “Cute of you to assume I’d get caught.”
His grin brightens. “You think I’m cute?”
“Like a yappy little dog.” She says it casually but by the way her eyes are wandering, the Doctor can tell she’s losing interest in the conversation.
The barista looks down at his shoes. “Actually, River I’d been meaning to ask - “
Before he can finish his sentence, a man is yelling out at him to get back to work and he rushes off to take more orders with a brief glance back at River.
Instead of sitting down with her drink or waiting for him to return, River makes towards the exit and reality comes crashing down on the Doctor.
No no no, that was too short , she thinks desperately. How was this supposed to last her the next few months? How was she supposed to just leave?
The longing in her chest is almost unbearable now, those five minutes like a taste of a decadent meal she was told she couldn't have any more of.
Tossing her drink out, the Doctor makes her way back to the TARDIS. She doesn’t give herself a chance to think as she takes her ship one day into the future.
Like clockwork, River is there again. This time she stays a little longer as another barista is working and she’s forced to wait in the queue. It still isn't enough though and the Doctor tells herself these short hops can't really hurt.
Soon a week has passed like this. The Doctor, sitting in her corner, just watching and savouring those brief glimpses. Devouring every morsel she can get like a starving animal. Once in a while River will bring her books and study in the cafe but more often than not, she is in and out, rushing back to her flat or some class.
On her sixth visit, the Doctor exits the shop and rounds the corner, off to her ship as has become habit when she feels the cold metallic press of something against her head.
She freezes. She's had enough guns aimed at her by this point, both from this century or otherwise, to recognise the feeling of the barrel immediately.
“I've had about two hours of sleep total this week and I'm pretty certain I’ve failed at least three classes. Now, I’d really like to shoot someone. If you don’t want that to be you, then tell me who you are and why you’re following me.”