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Giddel Marlow sat with his hands folded on the table in front of him as he relayed the story of his wife’s abduction by off-world insurgents to his guests. His plight was one shared with many of his people, but as the most senior surviving member of the government, it was his duty to explain the details to the kindly strangers who offered their help. Exactly how they intended to help was a mystery however, as there were only two of them and all they had between them was a gun and a screwdriver. He thought of Abigail and how scared she must be and heaved out a sigh.
“Giddel, I promise you I will find her and bring her home safely,” said the man with the soft patrician accent who called himself ‘the Doctor’.
“I fear that it may be already too late, they–” Giddel paused, distracted by the woman whom the Doctor called ‘Riversong’. She was shifting uncomfortably in her seat and gnawing on her lip. The Doctor, noting the sudden silence, turned to follow Giddel’s gaze. He gave Riversong a look that made her sit straight and put her hands flat on the table.
“Sorry,” she muttered and The Doctor put a hand next to hers and touched her finger with his own. Giddel noticed that they wore no bonding rings, but reminded himself that other worlds did not have the same moral certitude his had. He told himself that the Doctor was a good man and that he did not think less of him. The Doctor appeared to be capable of reading his thoughts because the next sentence he uttered was, “River’s my wife; we’re married.” Giddel sighed with relief and chuckled. He was glad that the Doctor was a man of principles and wasn’t one to touch the hand of a woman publicly without first marrying her.
“As I was saying, Giddel, we will find Abigail and the others, it’s not too late. The insurgents need them alive for bargaining purposes, and as luck would have it, I’m excellent at bargaining.” The Doctor adjusted his bow tie.
“Thank you, Doctor. If you can achieve this, you will be a legend to our people.” Giddel felt his eyes well in gratitude as the Doctor rose and nodded at him. Rarely had an off-worlder been so sensitive of their social mores as the Doctor was. Giddel, in his former role as Minister for Interplanetary Relations was accustomed to dealing with the inappropriateness of other races with their apparent need to touch everything and anyone. He was grateful to the Doctor for his unsurpassed sensitivity in this, his world’s darkest hour.
The Doctor nodded to Riversong to come with him and she got to her feet, smiling benignly at Giddel before turning and leaving the bunker with her husband. Giddel thanked God for his bounty and felt his hope restored.
* * *
The Doctor strode ahead of River, he was somewhere on the spectrum between irritated and furious. River trotted to catch up with him. “Could you slow down a bit? Some of us don’t have the benefit of having ridiculously long legs.” He turned his head and glared back at her – definitely closer to furious than irritated. He stepped into a darkened doorway and she followed.
“River,” he hissed, “do you have any idea where we are? You can’t behave like that here. And not now, of all times.” His jaw was clenched and his eyes were searing.
“I’m sorry, I know. But this isn’t entirely my fault.”
“Oh I see, so this is my fault is it? My wife rubbing herself against inanimate objects in the bunker of the acting President of a world where shaking hands is tantamount to foreplay, is my fault?” He rasped the words out, anger getting the better of his desire to whisper.
“Well, haven’t you the short memory, hmm? Tell me, Doctor, what exactly do the words ‘don’t stop,’ mean to you? Because they certainly cannot mean to continue what you’re doing, as that would suggest you were a very inconsiderate husband indeed.”
“Oh I see! An emergency got in the way of your…” he lowered his voice further, “…sexual gratification. I swear River, sometimes you are so primitive.”
“An emergency! I hardly think leaving the ice cream out of the freezer is considered an emergency to anyone other than you. And, I don’t see you complaining about my primitive side when the shoe is on the other foot and it’s you begging me not to stop.” Her protestations had gained volume as they progressed and the Doctor, fearing being overheard by easily scandalised ears, put a finger to River’s lips to shush her. She immediately took his fingertip into her mouth and began to suck it, running her tongue along the underside. The whimper escaped him before he could even think of containing it and she grinned wickedly. Revenge, he sensed.
Perhaps he was being too hard on her; he had left her hanging after all. But in his defence, all that licking was bound to lead a person’s mind to ice cream, and the thought of all that lovely raspberry ripple going to waste was too much to bear. He hadn’t realised exactly how close she had been until she stomped out to find him in the kitchen eating what remained of the tub. Well, he wasn’t going to let it go to waste, now was he? It was too far-gone to be refrozen. (Funnily enough, that was her argument also.) Then the distress signal was received by the TARDIS and it had to be answered. It was hardly his fault that the call was from a planet with one of the most sexually repressed societies in millennia.
He pulled his finger from her mouth and dried it on his shirtfront. “Less of that. We’re supposed to be here to help.”
“If I have to suffer this, I’m taking you with me, time-boy,” she replied ominously.
“Well, good luck with that,” he said with all the conviction he could muster. She just smiled seductively and stepped out onto the street again. He swallowed heavily and then followed her, not looking at all at the swing of her hips or the curve of her arse.
* * *
Giddel had formed a task force of men and women to help rescue his people and instructed them to obey any and all orders given by the Doctor. The first task was to rally the troops. They all assembled in the school hall, which had been converted into a training centre. Each wore a green boiler suit; some even wore gloves and hoods to prevent any unintentional interpersonal touching. It might have seemed excessive to the untrained eye, but the fallout from an accidental brush of a finger on another person’s neck could set them back a full day’s training whilst everyone came to terms with it.
The Doctor stood before them on a chair and began his address. He explained to them the seriousness of their position, but that they were capable of anything they set their minds to. The assembled crowd were suitably roused and cheered as he told them that by the same time the following day, their loved ones would be home again. He looked down over the applauding sea of faces and noticed one that was not cheering, but gazing up at him with a familiar intensity.
River was wearing a boiler suit too and her hair was tied back – otherwise he would have noticed her immediately. She was licking her lips and staring directly at him; her fingers were toying with the toggle of the zipper by her neck. She pulled slowly on it, drawing it down and revealing the creamy skin of her décolletage. The Doctor gulped and looked around the room. No one else was noticing as all eyes were on him. He glanced back, and the zip was continuing its descent; he waited for the fabric of her tank top, but it never came. He gulped again. He was uncertain whether she was still watching him because he couldn’t divert his gaze from the path of the zipper. Just as it was about to reveal a navel, it was tugged quickly back up. His eyes flew up after it to catch her winking at him and turning around to exit the room. He became suddenly aware that he was standing on a chair, in front of a room filled with people, with an enormous erection. He hopped down, tumbled over the back of the seat, righted himself and went to look for River.
When he found her outside she was looking unspeakably smug with her boiler suit fastened up right under her chin. “Hello Sweetie.”
“River,” he said, his voice urgent with more than just irritation. “You can’t do that, if anyone had seen it could have ruined the entire rescue mission.”
“Ha, as if any of them could tear their eyes away from the great good Doctor long enough to notice. And besides, don’t tell me you didn’t like it, I could tell from all the way back there.” She nodded at his trouser situation and he blushed. “Don’t worry, Sweetie, they wouldn’t even think to look.”
“We’ll be out of here tomorrow, until then you have to stop this. We can’t risk the hostages.”
“Don’t worry I won’t distract you at any critical junctures. But I can’t promise anything beyond that, this place seems to have that effect on me.”
“River,” he said dangerously.
“Don’t deny that you feel the same,” she said, leaning closer to him and lowering her voice. “You could never resist a taboo either. Creating all those paradoxes for no reason other than the thrill of it. Don’t ever forget that I know you.” She stared at him, daring him to look away but he didn’t. The standoff was eventually broken by two male troops coming through the door and going to the water font by one of the windows. The light coming from inside fell upon them as one filled a cup and passed it carefully to the other and then filled a second for himself. They stood kissably close, which suggested that they were betrothed, if not married. River and the Doctor watched them drink their water and whisper.
“What do you think it’s like for these people, after they get home and close the doors of their bedrooms behind them?” River began. “Do you think the denial of their everyday lives translates into something equally subdued when they’re finally allowed that sacred touch? Or do you think it’s all fireworks and frantic grasping. What do you think it’s like for them, Doctor, when they fuck?” He knew the placement of the word at the end of the sentence was intentional but that didn’t stop it sending ripples through him causing all of his thoughts to converge into one. He wanted to tear away that hideous boiler suit and feel all of her skin against all of his. He wanted to slide his cock into her and fuck her until she was begging to come. And this time nothing would distract him until she was falling apart with pleasure, calling out his name. He shuddered and looked at her again.
“Now there’s something to think about in your bunk tonight,” she said. “I know I will.” She walked away leaving him speechless and aching with frustration. He leaned forward against the wall trying to regain control of his body through force of will alone, but, in the end, had to resort to kicking a pipe. Pain reverberated up his leg but it thankfully resulted in the desired effect. He turned around and the two men at the font were looking in his direction, seemingly startled by the sound. “Spouses,” he said with an apologetic wave and they both nodded smiling, then glared at each other playfully.
Definitely fireworks.
* * *
The Doctor considered staying awake through the night, but he knew he would need to be thinking clearly in the morning and this situation with River was doing nothing for his general sense of clarity. Sleep was the only option. He found out which dormitory River had chosen and went with the other one, finding a free bunk near the window. He began the process of shutting down his thoughts, taking the threads and pinning each one down. He turned onto his side and the springs creaked quietly under his shifting weight. There was a sleepy grumble from the bunk next to him, but the sound gave way to silence and darkness once again.
It was very much like River’s Stormcage bunk and there was some comfort in that. She was most likely sleeping like a baby, or not. Perhaps she was solving her problem right at that moment, or maybe she had hours earlier and was now sleeping soundly, satisfied. He tried not the think about it, but then of course, he could try not to think about a dancing fez-wearing elephant and have more success than he could not thinking about River’s tidy little fingers sliding up and down her slick pink folds.
He cursed his eidetic memory for recording the images in such vivid detail – the look of sheer concentration and every tiny quiver as she brought herself off with those delicate fingers of hers. They made such a contrast to his; where two of his could rub along her entire slit in a single stroke, hers were comparatively tiny but so much more focused in their efforts. He really needed to stop thinking about this now as it was becoming unbearable, painful even. He needed to stop thinking about the sounds she made, that she probably couldn’t make in a room full of other people and how she would have to stifle them. It would be difficult for her but, knowing her as he did, it would make her orgasm even more intense and she would have to fight the spasms of her body to conceal what she was doing.
Not thinking about it had been a total failure; if he weren’t forcing himself to stay still he would have been writhing by now. Maybe he could relieve the pressure without anyone noticing; it was worth a try at least. His hand crept down, fingers toying with the elasticated waistband of his pyjamas. He slipped his fingertips just inside, feeling the warmth from his crotch radiate up. He carefully moved his hand down to find the smooth hardness of his cock and took a firm hold of it. He controlled a sigh, forcing himself to breathe evenly.
He started a slow upward stroke and his body trembled. The bunk springs creaked – he winced and stopped. The grumbling from the next bunk repeated and followed the same pattern as before. He waited for silence and tried again. The bunk springs creaked again and a second grumbler, this time behind him, joined ranks with the first. For fuck’s sake! One last try and the bunk insisted on hampering any effort he was making to be clear headed in the morning. Was it in league with River? He withdrew his hand and flopped over onto his front, sending creaks and squeaks echoing around the dormitory. Much grumbling and a solitary, “What the…?” followed. The Doctor joined in the grumbling and could only pray for sleep and lie on his erection until it abated.
After next to no sleep, he was wakened by a bugle of all things. Whoever thought a bugle was a good idea for an instrument must have had a penchant for torture.
“There you are, Doctor. The troops are waiting for you in the mess-hall.” One of the corporals was standing at the door. The Doctor rubbed the sleep away from his face and nodded that he would be along. The troops were waiting for him before they could eat so he dressed and then made his way quickly to the mess-hall, which was really a school lunch room. He sat at one of the free tables (all tables were made for one of course) and looked down at the food in front of him and wished there was a bucket of coffee there instead. Maybe then he could wake up properly, or if he was lucky, drown.
The doors swung open and he looked up to see River enter in a similar state of dishevelment. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her hair was sticking out at a strange angle from her hair tie. She spoke to someone by the door, who picked up a chair and brought it over to the Doctor’s table and placed it opposite him. River thanked him as he left and then sat down heavily.
“It’s okay, I asked first,” she explained although he wasn’t intending to comment.
“Good morning, Dear,” he said. “Did you have a good sleep?”
She threw him a withering look. “Where the hell did they get those stupidly creaky bunks? And…what are they? The lightest sleeping race in the history of the universe?”
“Can’t say that I noticed,” he said, fighting the urge to rub his eyes again.
“Don’t lie to me. I can see it on you too.”
“All right, I admit it. But is it awful that I’m glad you had no luck either?”
“Not awful, I was thinking exactly the same thing. At least if we’re going down, we’re going down together.”
“River, don’t.”
“I’m sorry, it keeps happening. I can’t say anything without it sounding smutty. Thankfully it’s way above the heads of most of the locals.” She rubbed her face roughly. “They are ridiculously light sleepers though. Bastards.”
“Bastards,” he agreed.
* * *
By nightfall the insurgent camp had been thoroughly infiltrated, Giddel’s troops lined the hallways, holding their enemies at gunpoint. The Doctor and River had disappeared deep inside the base and found the command room, flanked by their allies. The Doctor showily kicked the door open and they carefully poured in. The leader of the insurgents stood behind a large marble table leaning heavily on both hands, heaving under the weight of his own gut.
“General Peleth, I presume?” the Doctor called across the room as he swaggered in. River took up a position behind him, her blaster trained on the General.
“And you must be the infamous Doctor; I’ve heard so much about you. You can try to stop us, but it would be an exercise in futility. This is merely the first wave, we have a fleet of thousands waiting.”
“Call me sceptical, but that’s not exactly true now, is it? We’ve run scans and there is no fleet, just one sad little solitary ship left with a skeleton crew while you lot run about down here.”
General Peleth puffed.
“So you’ve used all of your resources to take captives, but for what? No, let me guess – you’re sick of traveling around on your cramped little ship, and being of the mind-set you are, you decided to set up shop on a nice habitable planet with plenty of space. Only all the habitable planets were already occupied, and you didn’t fancy having long, protracted negotiations with the locals, so you thought you’d speed matters up a bit – take a few hostages, force their hands, get them to agree to, what, say a few thousand acres in exchange for their families back? Am I warm?”
The General puffed again.
“Yes, then. That’s not exactly playing fair, is it? Now, speaking of your particular mind-set, why would you choose this well-armed planet over, say, one in the next system where they have a more primitive weapons system? Well it’s all quite simple when you think about it. This planet is the only one that wouldn’t use a very basic weapon against you that would see you defeated and run out in no time at all. And, if you were planning to stay somewhere long-term, it would be where the locals were of the same mind-set as yourselves, which is only reasonable when you think about it. Well there’s one thing you didn’t consider, General.”
“And what’s that?”
“Me. And I’m not from here.” The Doctor held his hands up and wiggled his fingers. The General stood up straight, beads of sweat forming on his creased brow. The Doctor turned to the troops and told them to leave the room.
“But Doctor, you’re unarmed!” one protested.
“Oh, I’m far from unarmed,” he replied glancing back and winking at River who responded with a broad smile. The troops left and shut the door behind them, leaving River and the Doctor alone with the General and his henchmen. River carefully holstered her blaster and stepped up to the Doctor’s side. The henchmen eyed her suspiciously but kept her firmly in their rifle sights.
“So,” the Doctor began, “are you going to release the hostages and be on your way?”
The General rolled out a long laugh. “I don’t see what you could possibly have to persuade me.”
“Oh, you are a slow one. I have exactly three things to persuade you.”
“Which are?”
The Doctor held up one hand. “Left,” he held up the other, “right,” then he looked at River with a giddy grin, “and wife.”
The General began to bluster and his henchmen raised their guns. Quick as a flash the Doctor reached across and ran the backs of his fingers over River’s cheek. She instinctively leaned into the touch and the smooth warmth of her skin seeped into the Doctor’s hand causing his hearts to drum. The henchmen dropped their firearms in favour of covering their eyes and the General grimaced, obviously more battle hardened than his men. The Doctor took this as a cue to proceed. He ran his fingers south to her neck and took hold of her zipper toggle, eyeing the General who stood resolute. He pulled the zipper down confidently and noted only a minor change in the other man’s expression. Confused, he looked around to see that River was wearing her tank top. She shrugged, “I was cold.”
“Not to worry,” he said and stood in close to her, running a fingertip along her collarbone and down over her sternum. She closed her eyes and hummed and he turned to look at the General who was looking down but still faced in their direction. The henchmen had taken to sitting on the floor rocking themselves with their heads in their hands.
The Doctor returned to River and took her cheek in his hand, feeling the electricity of a thousand denied touches channelled into this one. They both whimpered and the General groaned. The Doctor began to lean in towards her, feeling the warmth of her breath spread over him. Their lips were millimetres apart when the General shouted out, “Stop! No, please don’t. We’ll go, anything you want, just… don’t do that!”
“What? This?” said the Doctor, and pressed his lips onto his wife’s and slipped his hands inside her boiler suit and around to the small of her back. She melted into him, pressing her breasts into his chest and threading her fingers up into his hair. He brushed his tongue across her top lip and pushed his fingertips under the waistband of her trousers. She rolled her hips against his, sending delicious warm waves through him. They broke the kiss, breathing heavily, and then turned their heads to see the General curled up in a ball on the ground.
“We should stop, we don’t want to kill them,” River said.
“Could it really kill them?” the Doctor mumbled into River’s neck before running his hot tongue up along it to her ear and taking the lobe between his teeth.
“Fuck,” she breathed and he chuckled. “No, seriously, I think one of them has stopped breathing.” She broke out of his embrace and ran to the henchman who was lying disturbingly still. She put her hand out to take his pulse and his eyes shot open and he started to scream. River put her two hands up in the air and took a step back.
“It must be some sort of defence mechanism,” the Doctor surmised from behind her. “Let’s send this lot on their way so we can be on ours.” He took one final opportunity to grab River’s arse before calling the troops back into the room.
* * *
General Peleth and the other insurgents were returned to their ship and left sufficiently scarred to never want to make a repeat attempt at their thwarted plan. The hostages were released back to their families and the Doctor and River watched their emotional reunions. “It’s not exactly Heathrow Arrivals Hall, is it?” River said, watching them all not hug one another.
“I feel like we should spend a week there after this,” he said, fighting the urge to hold her hand.
“Yes, but not right away, we have to settle our differences first.” She gave him a mischievous grin.
“If we sneak off now, we could be back in the TARDIS in under eight minutes,” he said, cocking an eyebrow. Just as he thought she was about to challenge him to a race, a voice called across the courtyard. “Doctor, Riversong!” It was Giddel Marlow and he was approaching them with a woman by his side. “This is my wife, Abigail.”
“We cannot express how grateful we are to you both for rescuing us,” said Abigail, nodding at them. “Tell me, how did you defeat them? Information like that could be very useful if they were ever to come back.”
“Eh,” said the Doctor looking at River and then back to the couple. “Top Secret? And don’t worry, they won’t be back.”
“We’ll take your word for it, Doctor. Now, we have an evening of celebration planned, and you both will be our guests of honour.”
“We were rather thinking of getting going, you know, lots to do.”
“Nonsense! I won’t hear of it.” Giddel said and looked seriously at the Doctor.
“Okay! I love a party!” the Doctor said, after an uncomfortable moment of being eyed by the couple. Giddel and Abigail seemed pleased and set off back to their people. The Doctor became acutely aware of River’s eyes boring into the side of his head and he looked around cautiously. “Well, I didn’t want to be rude, and they were staring at me,” he offered.
“I’m going for a cold shower,” River said and walked off back into the building, leaving the Doctor wondering if she meant for him to picture her naked in a cold shower, covered in goose-pimples. The resulting shudder that spread through him told him that she had.
* * *
In a society where public physical contact was unheard of, there was no dancing. As there was no dancing, there was no music. For those reasons, River and the Doctor found themselves listening respectfully to endless verses about flowers, toasters and one apparently ‘lewd’ limerick about putting on a pair of gloves. They clapped politely, sitting next to each other at the table at the top of the room.
“I can’t help thinking this would be a lot more fun with a bottle of wine or ten,” River whispered.
“Even I would drink wine if there was any here,” he replied.
“How long do these things go on for?”
“They don’t really consider it a party unless it lasts until sunrise.”
“I think I’m going to cry.”
“Don’t,” the Doctor said urgently and slid his hand under the table and stroked the side of her thigh with his fingertips.
“This is a bad idea,” she said, keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead with a false smile painted on her lips. He ignored her and was already walking his fingers up over her leg and nestling them between her warm thighs. She made a tiny noise and let her legs fall open, ever so slightly. He moved his hand up until it bumped off her pubic bone. She stifled a gasp and rolled her hips against him opening her legs even further. He turned his hand and pressed his middle finger along the seam of her trousers, pushing it onto her clit, and made tiny circles.
“You’re on fire, River,” he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
“Bathroom,” she muttered, stood up abruptly and walked off. He sat for a few moments. Had he offended her, or did she just need to go to the bathroom? Oh, he realised, an invitation. He looked around nervously. Someone was reciting an epic poem about cauliflower and all attention was on the heartfelt delivery being given by the performer. The Doctor slid sideways out of his seat and ran towards the bathroom.
He burst through the doors to find River waiting and looking a bit cross. “What the fuck kept you?” she growled.
“It hasn’t even been a minute, umph…” he protested as she crossed over to him and shoved her tongue into his mouth. All rational thought escaped him as her hands worked furiously to unbutton his trousers. She slid her warm hand inside and took a possessive hold of his cock.
He pushed her back away from him. “No.” She looked surprised and a little hurt. “No River, I want to see all of you, I want to touch every inch of you.” She whipped off her top and flung it, then unhooked her bra and sent it to follow the top. The Doctor brought his hands forward, not knowing where to touch first. In the end he opted to peel her trousers and knickers down over her thighs, have a disagreement with her shoes, and then pull the whole lot off over her feet. He looked up over the exposed plains of her flesh and it was almost too much.
She put a foot on his shoulder and said, “Your turn.” He moved to stand up but was side-tracked by the intoxicating scent of her and couldn’t resist sliding his tongue in to taste her. She bucked against his mouth as his tongue travelled lazily up and down her slit, tasting all of the hours of frustration that had built up. His hands ventured up over her taut stomach, feeling her muscles tense as she rocked above him. He slid one higher still to ghost his fingers over a pebbled nipple before taking hold of her breast and squeezing it gently. It wouldn’t take much to push her over the edge, but he’d be damned if she wasn’t going to take him with her.
He stood up and stripped quickly, if inelegantly, sending boots careening towards the wall and landing with a thud on the floor. He lost all of his clothes in as few moves as possible and somehow managed to avoid injury. He stood across from her; they were both breathing heavily and holding each other’s gaze like two fighters circling in the ring, waiting for the bell. The Doctor took the first step and their naked bodies collided, legs and arms coiling around and mouths working furiously to gain the upper hand.
“Fucking hell, River, I missed this. I never want to not touch you again,” he said, grabbing her arse and lifting her up off the ground. She wrapped her legs around his waist and knitted her fingers into his hair kissing him ferociously. He pushed her against the wall so the he could free a hand to guide himself into her. They each let out a carnal moan, finally allowing their pent up desires an outlet. A spark of awareness remained, as the Doctor covered River’s mouth with his to keep them both quiet. He slid both of his hands under her arse to support her weight as he pushed up into the almost burning heat of her soaked cunt.
He explored her mouth with his tongue, swallowing any sounds she may have made before they could escape. His body felt chilled as he shivered with unreleased desire and his knees rattled, but he could only continue driving relentlessly into her, as though it was all that remained of existence. The only sound was the almost electric crack of skin meeting skin.
He felt her orgasm rip through her as her entire body went into spasm. He caught sight of her toes in the mirror, jerking in time with the pulses in her cunt, and it was enough to finally, finally send him after her. He understood at last why the French called it the ‘little death’ – it felt as though reality was collapsing in on top of him as his world went dark, but all of his fear was stripped away and he could only accept it as it crashed down upon him in a huge enveloping wave. His knees finally gave way after his final shuddering release and they collapsed together onto the floor.
She stroked his hair, his face, his back and anywhere else she could reach, kissing him over and over as though she could scarcely believe she was allowed to. He held her face in his hands, scarcely believing it himself, and hardly believing that he had ever been allowed it. He marvelled at the love and gratitude in her eyes and kissed her tenderly in thanks for everything she had ever given him. He felt suddenly overwhelmed, tangled up in her, and began to sob. He was momentarily startled by the reaction until he noticed that it was hers too. Kissing and crying, naked and kissing and crying, it sounded awful, but it was the opposite of awful. They lay in each other’s arms as they caught their breaths, simply enjoying what could so easily be taken for granted: the loving touch of another person.
Then there was a scream, followed by the sound of a different body hitting the floor.
“Oh fuck!” said River, seeing what had happened from her vantage point. The Doctor slowly turned his head around and saw an unconscious Abigail Marlow slumped against the doorframe.
What followed was an undignified scene where they dragged on their clothes and decided, rather than try to explain what had happened to Giddel, that they would run away. Fast. They stepped carefully over Abigail’s sleeping form and then slipped quietly out of the party, where the cauliflower poem was continuing into its forty-third verse. They bounded back down to the beach hand-in-hand and found the cave where they had left the TARDIS. They fell against the doors and the Doctor overtly ran his hands all over his wife’s body.
“I am not letting you out of my reach for at least a week,” he said and kissed her fiercely. “And from now on, no matter what the circumstances, if you tell me to keep doing something, I’ll obey you every single time.”
“You’d better,” she warned and kissed him again before they fell through the doors.
They never did make it to Heathrow Arrivals Hall.
* * *
General Peleth, acting on instinct, set off in a random trajectory away from the planet and hoped for the best. They were less than a day into their journey the ship was jolted by turbulence from an unknown source. The scanners and weapons systems dropped offline and the General feared the worst – the Doctor had found them and decided to finish them off.
He was surprised therefore, when the systems came online again, to find that they seemed to be at the exact same coordinates as they had been previously, with no sign of any other ship. They ran the scanners and found that the planet they had just left was still there, but now it registered no life-signs. He polled his people on whether to return, and the motion passed after much debate. They found the scans to be correct: the planet was uninhabited. The General thanked God for his bounty and felt his hope restored.
Eighteen generations passed and Rachel, a direct descendent of General Peleth, met Caleb Marlow and when the time came, they named their first son Giddel.