Yowzah Oneshot Collection (2)

131(G)

        i'm forever yours, faithfully

melodypond_thewomanwhomarriedme

The moment he realises what he’s done, he breaks.

He storms and kicks, pushes and punches, throws and breaks everything in the vicinity until he’ll have no choice but to redecorate. The Tardis seems to understand that he needs to do this, because she doesn’t seem hostile or unwilling to cooperate with him. He can still sense a hint of anger though, and he knows that she still hasn’t forgiven him for the way he’s treated her daughter.

When he’s done, the console room is in shreds – bits and pieces of plastic and metal strewn across the floors – some even managed to fall to the platform below – and the only thing still in place is the time rotor.

He sinks to his knees in the middle of the mess he made and sobs. He buries his face in his hands and is only mildly aware that they are covered in cuts and bruises – he’s bleeding quite profusely. It hurts. He doesn’t care.

Because nothing hurt as much as knowing he’d probably destroyed the best relationship he’s ever had – romantic or otherwise. River hadn’t deserved any of the things he’s said – and though he’d meant it when he said it, he knew all those words were driven by grief and anger and the desire to make her feel. That didn’t mean she’d deserved it, though.

That certainly didn’t stop him from saying those things to her. Or throwing their bow tie into the middle of space –

The bow tie!

He rushes to his feet and pats off the debris, stepping over the remains of levers and buttons and wires before finally getting close enough to throw open the Tardis doors.

It’s useless, he knows, as he stares vainly at the open space in front of him, to hope beyond hope that their bow tie would miraculously float back to him, and his hands clench at his side. He plants his feet firmly onto the ground to stop himself from flinging his body to space – no matter how much he deserves it. She certainly doesn’t. What she deserves is an apology, and he’d honestly rather fling himself into a supernova than make her wait for one.

He straightens up and closes the door, stepping over the debris again and making his way to the wardrobe to change into something suitable for the Singing Towers of Darillium.

*

He’s actually, properly done it.

He’s rewritten time.

When he walks out of the console room, top hat on, bow tie straightened and apology speech rehearsed, the Old Girl was already done with the re-decorations. She’d turned his juvenile, cheery-looking console to a metal dungeon, and he stands back to admire the slickness of it. He approaches the new console and pats it fondly.

“Nice job, Sexy. Right,” he mutters. Let’s go find that daughter of yours so I can apologise, yeah?”

That Tardis hums slightly protectively.

“Yeah,” he says sheepishly to his ship. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

He enters the last coordinates that had been used in the ship’s files and pushes the lever. The Tardis makes the wheezing, groaning sound he so loves as it lands and he stills himself, knowing full well that River is entirely capable with a gun and that he may not be the company she wants right now. He takes a deep breath and pushes the door open.

It’s a graveyard.

It’s the graveyard.

His eyes flicker to the headstone he knows all too well is bearing the names of his Ponds before he swallows and frowns, turning to his ship. He heads to the controls and enters the coordinates again, double-checking that it was the last one in the ship’s data records before pulling the lever. The Tardis takes off and lands and he knows, even as he stalks towards the doors just in case – it’s still the graveyard.