Chapter Text
The streets of London hummed with life, a mix of hurried commuters and leisurely wanderers soaking in the December chill. Bill Potts walked ahead, her hands stuffed in her coat pockets, a triumphant grin on her face. Nardole trailed behind, his scarf askew and an expression of mild displeasure as he grumbled about the cold.
The Doctor, as always, was somewhere in the middle, his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes scanning the surroundings with an air of practiced disinterest. Yet, even in his studied indifference, there was the ever-present flicker of curiosity lurking just beneath the surface.
“Cheer up!” Bill said as Nardole and the Doctor trailed behind him. “I know we’re far from Bristol, but London is fun! I promise, you’ll like the café.”
"Here it is!" Bill stopped in front of a small café tucked between a bookshop and an antique store. The sign above the door read "The Companions Table" in elegant cursive, the glass windows frosted with condensation. The sign front of the shop was painted in a TARDIS blue colour.
The Doctor raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "The 'Companions Table,' hmm? Sounds like a place where the tea’s as lukewarm as the conversation."
"Oh, come on. You lot drag me through time and space every other week. I figured it’s time to show you what my world’s got to offer. Besides, it’s got great vibes."
"Vibes," Nardole repeated, following her inside. "That’s hardly a scientific metric."
“And I hardly drag you, Bill! You come along willingly!” The Doctor huffed.
Bill pushed open the door, and a soft chime announced their arrival. The café's exterior, quaint and unassuming, gave no hint of the space within. Inside, it was as though they had stepped into another world.
The café was impossibly large, with soaring ceilings and walls adorned with intricate, glowing patterns that shifted and pulsed gently, like the heartbeat of the place itself. Rows of tables stretched out farther than seemed possible, their surfaces polished to a warm gleam and surrounded by mismatched chairs that somehow all fit perfectly together.
Warm, ambient lighting filled the space, coming from orb-like fixtures suspended in midair, their glow changing subtly as you moved through the room. The scent of rich coffee and freshly baked pastries wafted through the air, mingling with a faint hum that seemed to resonate from the walls themselves.
In one corner, an oversized bookshelf spiralled upward, its shelves teeming with books in every language imaginable, some with covers that seemed to shimmer as if alive. The counter at the far end was sleek yet welcoming, its surface etched with swirling designs reminiscent of Gallifreyan symbols.
The café seemed to hum with a quiet energy, cozy yet vast, as though it existed outside of ordinary time and space. It felt alive, as if the room were watching, listening, waiting. Bill turned back to the Doctor, her grin widening. "Told you it was special."
The Doctor gave a small, appraising nod, though the flicker of intrigue in his eyes betrayed his usual air of disinterest. "Bigger on the inside," he muttered, hands slipping into his coat pockets. "Now, that’s familiar."
"Find a table," Bill said. "I’ll order. My treat."
"Your treat?" Nardole perked up. "In that case, I’ll have a hot chocolate. And a muffin. The big one with the chocolate chips."
"No surprise there," she said with a smirk before heading to the counter.
As Bill approached, her eyes caught on the barista behind the counter. She was stunning, with sharp cheekbones, deep brown eyes, and an air of confidence that seemed effortless. Her curly hair was tied back loosely, with a few strands escaping to frame her face.
"Wow," Bill muttered under her breath, nudging Nardole as he came up beside her. "She’s gorgeous. Don’t you think she looks… I don’t know. Familiar?"
Nardole glanced up, prepared to brush off her comment, but his face froze mid-expression. His eyes widened, and his normally flippant demeanour dropped away. "Oh. Oh, crumbs."
Bill frowned. "What? What is it?"
Nardole pointed, his hand trembling slightly. "That… that’s…"
"What?" Bill turned to him, alarmed. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost."
"That’s my mistress," he whispered. "That’s the Doctor’s wife."
Bill’s jaw dropped. "What? Hold on. River? River Song? But… she’s… she’s dead. Isn’t she?"
Nardole nodded, his voice rising with panic. "She is. She’s supposed to be. She died in the Library. The Doctor was there. He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t leave her. He always saves everyone."
Unable to help himself, Nardole moved forward, his steps tentative but quick. The barista looked up from the espresso machine, her expression polite but guarded.
"Excuse me," he stammered. "Miss? Uh, River? River Song?"
She tilted her head, her brow furrowing. "I’m sorry, do I know you?"
Nardole’s face fell. "Oh no. Oh no no no. You… you don’t remember?"
At that moment, the door to the café opened again, the bell jingling sharply. The Doctor strode in, a spark of electricity in his step as if he'd just pieced something together. His eyes locked on the barista, and his face paled.
"River," he whispered, his voice a mix of disbelief and wonder.
She looked at him, her polite smile faltering. “My name is Melody. I don’t know a River.”
The Doctor’s face shifted suddenly. The disbelief melted away, replaced by a sharp, almost casual demeanour. He clapped his hands together, as if nothing unusual had occurred. "Right. Americano. Strong. Black as a neutron star. None of that frothy nonsense."
Bill blinked, her mouth half-open. "What? Doctor, what are you—"
"Ordering!” he said, pointing to the counter.
Melody hesitated, her confusion evident. There was something faint and flickering in her expression as she looked between the two. She turned around and started to prepare the coffee.
When they sat, Bill leaned in, her voice low and urgent. "What’s going on?"
Nardole folded his arms. "Yes, I’d like to know that too. She can’t be here. She just can’t."
The Doctor sat back, his fingers steepled in thought. "I don’t know," he said finally, his eyes narrowing. "But she told me that her name was Melody.”
Bill glanced over. "So?"
"So," the Doctor said, his voice tinged with impatience, "it’s not River. Not exactly. Maybe she’s young."
"Young?" Nardole spluttered. "She’s meant to be in a computer! Saved, not… not slinging lattes!"
The Doctor’s frown deepened. River, his River, did not recognise his face as the Doctor. Therefore, it was very unlikely that she met him as Melody. Unlikely, not impossible… but still…
Before anyone could respond, Melody approached with their orders. The Doctor’s eyes tracked her every movement, his gaze calculating. As she set the coffee down, he leaned toward Bill and whispered, "Ask her where she grew up."
Bill frowned. "What?"
"Ask her where she grew up," he repeated, more insistent this time.
Bill straightened awkwardly. "So, uh, Melody… where are you from?"
Melody paused, her brow furrowing. "London. Why?"
Bill floundered. "Oh, no reason. Just… making conversation."
The Doctor tilted his head, his eyes narrowing further. "Do you travel much?"
Melody laughed, a light, unguarded sound. "I wish! No, I’ve been here most of my life."
“Doing what?” the Doctor asked.
She frowned slightly at the peculiar question.
“I, uh, what do you mean?” She asked.
“You said you’ve been in London most your life. Doing what?”
Melody looked slightly miffed at the intrusive question. “The usual stuff. University, working, not much.”
The Doctor grinned with his teeth and then nodded. “Interesting.”
As Melody stalked off, Nardole frowned confused. "Doctor, what’s going on?"
The Doctor’s expression darkened, his tone dropping into a low, serious register. "This isn’t possible," he murmured, his gaze fixed on Melody as though trying to unravel her very existence.
“What isn’t?” Bill asked.
“Well, its improbable, I guess. I…” But before the Doctor could finish, he noticed someone approaching Melody.
The Doctor gestured toward his companions with a sweeping motion, his grin as enigmatic as ever. “Sarah Jane, meet Bill Potts and Nardole. Bill, Nardole, this is Sarah Jane Smith, one of the best.”
Sarah Jane’s face lit up with a mixture of pride and nostalgia. She extended a hand to each of them, her warmth immediately putting them at ease. “It’s lovely to meet you both.”
Bill tilted her head, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Wait, you’ve travelled with the Doctor?”
“Oh, yes,” Sarah Jane replied, her smile tinged with a bittersweet note. “Years ago. The Doctor dropped me off in Aberdeen—by mistake, I might add.” She cast a teasing glance at him, and he raised his hands in mock surrender.
“I wasn’t great with coordinates back then,” the Doctor admitted, though the gleam in his eyes suggested otherwise.
Sarah Jane continued, “At the time, I thought I’d never see him again. And then I did. He came back.” She paused, her gaze softening. “It was during my time at Deffry Vale School. I was investigating some strange goings-on, and lo and behold, there he was—different face, same nonsense.”
Nardole squinted at the Doctor. “Sounds about right.”
“And it wasn’t the last time,” Sarah Jane added. “I saw him again a few times after that. He always seemed to turn up when the world was in peril.”
Her voice grew lighter as she shifted gears. “Life’s quieter now. Luke and Skye—my son and daughter—both went off to university. I missed being around people, so I thought, why not? Open a café, create a little hub for wanderers and storytellers. And it worked.”
She glanced around the café, her pride evident. “It’s funny, though. I wasn’t expecting it, but some of your companions found their way here.”
The Doctor leaned forward, intrigued. “Oh?”
The Doctor leaned forward, his interest piqued. “Oh? And who’s come through the door of this lovely place?”
Sarah Jane’s eyes twinkled. “Well, Mickey and Martha came by a few months ago. They looked good—still globe-trotting, still saving the day. Martha said they’d just wrapped up a mission in South America. Something about alien spores and a rainforest.”
The Doctor grinned. “Typical. Trust them to take on the adventurous stuff.”
“And Jack,” Sarah Jane added with a knowing smile.
“Jack?” Bill asked.
“Captain Jack Harkness,” the Doctor clarified, leaning back with a smirk. “Always seems to know where to find a good cup of coffee—and trouble.”
Sarah Jane laughed. “He hasn’t changed a bit. Walked in here like he owned the place, turned on the charm full blast. Half the café staff were swooning by the time he left.” Sarah turned around, looking at Melody, her voice raised “When Jack came, even Melody over there was blushing.”
“Was not,” Melody interjected from behind the counter, though her cheeks betrayed her as she turned back to her work.
The Doctor tried to smile but internally, he was fuming. He was going to need to have a word with Jack!
Bill raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a character.”
“Oh, you’ve no idea,” Sarah Jane replied with a grin. “He brought stories, though, as always. Had everyone here hanging on his every word.”
“Flirting with everyone too, I imagine,” Nardole said dryly.
“Of course,” Sarah Jane said, her laugh warm. “But he’s Jack, isn’t he? It’s all part of the charm.”
The Doctor shook his head fondly. “That man never does anything halfway.”
Sarah Jane leaned forward slightly, her tone growing softer. “He asked after you, you know. Said he hadn’t seen you in a while.”
The Doctor’s expression flickered briefly with something unreadable before he masked it with a grin. “I imagine he’s been too busy saving the universe.”
Sarah Jane nodded, a small, knowing smile on her face. “Well, this place has become a bit of a crossroads. A little piece of home for all the wanderers you’ve picked up along the way.”
The Doctor glanced around, taking in the space once more. The glowing walls, the hum of life, the stories that seemed to linger in the air—it was a reflection of the best parts of the universe, brought down to Earth.
“You’ve built something special here, Sarah,” he said, his voice soft but sincere. “More than just a café.”
Sarah Jane’s smile deepened, her eyes shimmering with unspoken gratitude. “That means a lot, coming from you.”
Sarah Jane turned back towards Melody and smiled. “Sorry, these are friends of mine.”
The Doctor smiled, held out his hand and said “John Smith.”
“Oh, are you related to Sarah Jane?” Melody asked.
“No.” John chuckled but it was clearly laboured.
Melody handed John is drink and John smiled politely. “Well, nice meeting you.”
Sarah leaned in closer to the Doctor, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why did you introduce yourself as John to Melody.”
The Doctor sighed, the weight of centuries seeming to settle on his shoulders as he hesitated. Finally, he answered in a low, almost reverent tone, “Because… that’s my wife. And she doesn’t know me.”
Sarah Jane blinked, momentarily stunned. “What?” she whispered back, her voice sharp with surprise.
The Doctor quickly raised a hand, glancing toward Melody, who was busy serving a table at the other end of the café. “Not here. We can’t talk here. Come on.”
He motioned toward the door, and Sarah followed him outside into the crisp December air. The chill bit at their faces, but neither seemed to notice as they stopped just out of earshot of the café.
Sarah folded her arms, her curiosity piqued. “Okay, Doctor. Start explaining. That young woman in there—Melody—is your wife?”
The Doctor ran a hand through his hair, a rare moment of vulnerability showing in his expression. “Not exactly. Not yet. You remember the time I had the fob watch? When I became human?”
Sarah’s brow furrowed as she recalled the story, he’d once shared with her. “You mean the time you hid yourself from the Family of Blood?”
He nodded. “Same principle. Melody—well, she’s not Melody. Not entirely. She’s…” He paused, searching for the words. “She’s River. My River. But she’s using a Chameleon Arch to hide her true identity. It’s locked away, just like mine was.”
Sarah’s eyes widened as she pieced it together. “So, she doesn’t remember you?”
“Not a thing,” the Doctor said softly, his gaze drifting back toward the café. “She doesn’t remember who she really is, where she comes from… or me.”
Sarah’s voice softened. “How long has she been like this?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” The Doctor’s expression hardened with determination. “Tell me about her. When did she start working here? How long has she been here? Has she ever mentioned anything—about me, or about time travel?”
Sarah shook her head. “She’s been here for about a year now. She walked in off the street, said she felt… compelled to come inside. During her interview, she told me she didn’t know why, but she had to work here. And I—” She hesitated, then admitted, “I felt something about her too. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something… right about her being here. So, I hired her.”
The Doctor nodded, absorbing the information. “And in all that time, nothing? No mentions of time travel, no odd behaviour, no—”
“Nothing,” Sarah interrupted gently. “She’s… normal. Sweet, kind, sometimes a little distracted, but nothing that would suggest she’s hiding something this big.”
The Doctor exhaled, his breath clouding in the cold air. “Of course not. That’s how the Chameleon Arch works. It rewrites your biology, your memories, your very soul, so you become someone entirely new.”
Sarah studied him for a long moment, her expression a mix of sympathy and curiosity. “So, what happens now? What are you going to do?”
The Doctor hesitated, staring at the ground as if the answer lay somewhere in the frosty pavement. “I don’t know yet. But I can’t just leave her like this. Not forever.”
“And you’re sure she’s River?” Sarah asked, her voice quiet but firm.
The Doctor looked up, his gaze steady. “I’m sure.”
The next day, as the Doctor strolled into The Companions Table, the warm hum of conversation and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee greeted him. Melody, standing behind the counter with her sleeves rolled up, caught sight of him immediately.
“Back so soon?” she asked, raising an eyebrow but wearing a faint smile.
The Doctor leaned on the counter with his usual charm. “Yes, well, I can’t seem to stay away from this place. It has… a certain pull.”
Melody chuckled softly, shaking her head as she began preparing a latte for another customer. “Well, I hope you’re not planning to break any caffeine records today. You had four coffees yesterday.”
The Doctor grinned but said nothing, instead glancing around the café. He spent the day finding every excuse to approach the counter—sometimes for a drink, sometimes for a snack, and sometimes for what he claimed were ‘urgent questions’ about the café’s décor.
By closing time, Melody was wiping down the counter when she noticed him approaching yet again. She raised a hand pre-emptively. “Alright, John, this is getting ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous? Me?” he said, feigning innocence.
Melody smirked, holding up the receipts from the day. “You’ve ordered six drinks today. And food. You’ve spent nearly £60.”
The Doctor tilted his head, his grin widening. “And?”
She blinked at him, caught off guard by his nonchalant tone. “Well… it’s a bit weird, isn’t it? Who spends £60 in a cafe”
The Doctor leaned in slightly, his expression turning serious but still playful. “I’m old friends with Sarah. Thought I’d do my part to keep her business afloat.”
Melody’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she laughed, a little nervously. “Well, Sarah will be thrilled with her best customer, I’m sure. Just… maybe pace yourself next time?”
The Doctor chuckled, his eyes sparkling. “I’ll try, but no promises. The coffee’s quite good, you know.”
Melody shook her head, her smile lingering as she returned to tidying up. The Doctor watched her for a moment longer, a hint of something deeper in his gaze, before turning to find a seat, his thoughts whirring as fast as the TARDIS engines.
“And you’ve been staring at me. Taking quick glances when you think I am not looking.”
The Doctor froze, his hand mid-way to lifting his latest coffee cup.
Melody frowned deeper, her arms crossing tightly across her chest. “You’re not even going to deny it?”
He blinked, setting the cup down carefully. “Uh… Yes, I probably should, shouldn’t I?”
She narrowed her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “That’s not it. Earlier, you called me River. You and your friends did a couple times yesterday.”
The Doctor froze again, just for a fraction of a second, before breaking into a toothy grin. “Did I?” he said lightly, as if she’d misheard.
“Yes, you did,” she said firmly, sitting down at the table across from him. “And I want to know why. Because I have the feeling something’s going on, and I’d really like to know what.”
He smiled again, showing his teeth, his mind whirring. She was quick—always had been, his clever River. He thought it but didn’t say it, keeping his expression casual, even as his hearts thudded harder in his chest.
“Melody,” he said finally, leaning back in his chair. “It’s just a name. Maybe it slipped out. Maybe you remind me of someone I used to know.”
She tilted her head, clearly unconvinced. “Someone called River.”
“Precisely,” he said, nodding, his grin never faltering.
“And I remind your friends of River too? The bold one… what’s his name? He called me River too.”
“Yes, I suppose so.” The Doctor shrugged.
“Tell me about her.” Melody insisted.
“Maybe another time.” The Doctor said.
She studied him suspiciously, but she didn’t press further. “Fine,” she said after a long pause, standing up. “But I’ll hold you to it.!
“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he replied, tipping an imaginary hat.
She shook her head, muttering something under her breath as she walked away. He watched her go, his smile fading as he let out a quiet sigh. Still sharp as ever, he thought. But not yet. Not here.