Chapter One: Little Talks.
See end for Author's Note.

The minute River stepped out of the TARDIS she knew that something was wrong. And not only because, thanks to her human-plus DNA, she could feel that this wasn't the minute she should have been stepping out of the TARDIS and back into her cell. They were 54 minutes and 15 seconds late, but that wasn't all. She had been late to get back to her cell before of course, six times, in fact, and she had always slipped back in, alerted the guards that they could turn off the alarm, and went back to business as usual. It was precisely the fact that there was no blaring alarm going off that alerted her that something was wrong.

He had said they might be cutting it close, but she'd told him it wouldn't be the first time she was late and he'd laughingly agreed. As she registered that something wasn't quite right at Stormcage she heard the TARDIS dematerializing swiftly behind her, just as she'd instructed him to. Now regretting that advice, she turned around as quickly as possible back towards the flickering image of the TARDIS entering the vortex, hoping he would somehow see her and be able to stop and let her back in, at least so that they could investigate the situation before she ventured off into unknown danger. The TARDIS dematerialized completely and River sighed, thinking, "I have to do everything myself, I swear,"as she brought her right wrist up to activate her vortex manipulator.

A large hand closed around her arm just below her elbow, the grip easily forceful enough to bruise. Now, normally, River would simply have taken hold of this mysterious, presumptuous "captor" and thrown him summarily to the ground. Glancing down at the offending hand, she scowled deeply and resisted this urge. Although she could leave whenever she wished, she did have a promise to keep by serving her time in Stormcage, and she didn't like to make things any worse for herself than she absolutely had to. The wrist attached to the hand gripping her arm sported the telltale cuff of a guard's uniform. Ignoring the slightly painful grip, she turned slowly towards her "captor," realizing this was a mistake as she heard another guard "sneaking up" behind her. To hell with the trouble she was going to cause herself by knocking out a few guards, this seemed like it could go very poorly if she didn't get out of here and figure out what was going on. Muttering a sarcastic apology, she took down the guard who had a hold of her arm, and spun to face the other one. Scratch that, the other three. Oh, and those two coming up behind her. Right then, looked like it was time to get serious, she reached for her plasma gun.

Her hand encountered only empty holster where there should have been a gun, and by the time she bent over to get it from the apparently far-more-adept than she'd supposed though-still-currently-unconscious guard, the other five were in too close range for firing to be worthwhile, so she went for hand-to-hand combat instead, using the handle of the gun as a blunt weapon. When all six guards were lying in various positions at her feet, she quickly went for her manipulator again, only to hear another set of footsteps behind her, though this time still at a decent distance. She spun around, aimed her blaster, and fired, watching the guard drop to the ground. As she brought her wrist up once again, she heard it. There was some kind of projectile whistling towards her from behind – the approach of the gunman must have been cleverly timed to coincide with her blaster fire at the other – she mentally kicked herself – decoy guard. It was too late to dodge properly by the time she heard it, but she tensed slightly against the impact – she had probably had worse, but she was sure it wouldn't be pleasant. As such, her cry was primarily of surprise as she felt the dart sink into her neck. Thanking the extra time her physiology gave her against whatever the dart contained, she managed to turn around and get a shot off at the smug-looking guard who had launched the dart. The swift change of expression on his face was the last thing she saw as her vision blurred and she felt herself crumple to the ground.

River awoke to find her head surprisingly clear, given that she'd obviously been drugged. She began to struggle against her bonds immediately, hoping to catch her captors by surprise – she undoubtedly had been under for a shorter time than they would expect for a full human given whatever dosage they had used. Her wrists and legs met with the strong resistance of metal clamps, and she snapped her eyes open. Taking in her surroundings, she sighed and shook her head. She was strapped into a chair, surrounded by strange equipment. Torture, really? Why is it that they always think that will work? Before she had much of a chance to try to hypothesize what sort of torture they would be going for, the room's lone door swung open and three guards entered, followed by a man of middling height in a command uniform. Two of the guards took up posts at the door, and the third began adjusting the equipment behind her. River simply ignored him and the equipment, knowing that its purpose would be evident soon enough. Instead she assessed the commander. Average height, mostly grey hair, well-kept uniform, frown lines, sharp gaze, not particularly trim, but in a decidedly muscle-going-to-fat manner.

Straightening in her forced seat, she managed to cross her legs at the ankle, pleased that they hadn't changed her outfit so that this position still managed to put her heels and legs on full display. It hadn't won her any favors yet, but River Song just loved how uncomfortable people of this sort always were when confronted with an unruffled "victim." As he cleared his throat to begin, she finished making a show of looking him up and down and beat him to the punch, purring, "Well hello soldier." Her tone surprised him into delaying his own speech, and she continued, "You must be new." He began to move, closing the gap between them until he was standing above her. She tilted her head up at him, batting her eyelashes once for emphasis, "I assume you know who I am, in fact, you seem to have set up quite a reception for me. Lovely of you, I'm sure. But –" Her statement was cut off as he slapped her hard across the face, sending her head into the top of the metal chair. Her vision clouded briefly with black as she turned back towards him, only to find him walking away from her.. Judging him to be a sufficient distance away, she risked adding softly, "Not much for introductions then," making sure to sound a bit wounded – it did pay to please one's captor on occasion.

He turned back to face her, clasping his arms behind his back and shaking his head slowly from side to side, "River, River, River, how amusing that you think we should get to know each other. Normally, I wouldn't even be bothered filling you in, but seeing as you're about to be so accommodating" at this River raised an eyebrow, "I suppose I can return the favor. Think of it as an advance. Perhaps not my name though, I don't want us to get too close." She wasn't entirely sure, but he might have just winked. The aching pain in her cheek and the back of her head reminded her of the slap, and she spared a moment to think, Oh great, a slapper and a winker, this time I've managed to get myself bagged by a real nutcase. "I've recently been given command of Stormcage Containment Facility," yes, yes, she remembered hearing something about the takeover, but it was fairly common, so she hadn't thought much of it, "and unlike my predecessors, I'm unwilling to tolerate your frequent escapes. I'm unwilling to tolerate you escaping at all, in fact. Which brings us to our current situation." Now he was leaning over her again, and had put a hand under her chin to tilt her face towards his. Not entirely wanting to lose any more brain cells before this little torture session began properly, she clenched her jaw to avoid rolling her eyes. "You are going to tell me precisely how it is that you have been escaping, so that we can put an end to this nonsense, hmmm?" Ah, alright, well at least now she knew where this was going, though the precise methods of torture he would be using were still unclear. She shook her head gently, apologizing to both of them. This was going to be unpleasant for her until the Doctor showed up, and then, she imagined, quite unpleasant for her captor. The Doctor would show up, he always did. But more than that, she'd used her vortex manipulator to send him a quick message before she'd had to turn away from it the second time during her confrontation with the guards in the corridor. Always have a backup plan. More accurately, always have two backup plans if one of them wasn't the Doctor. Luckily, he was always her backup.

This will be a several chapter fic, loosely inspired by the song Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men. The title of the fic as well as most future chapter titles are from the lyrics. Reviews are always welcome and greatly appreciated. Thanks go to grumpyjenn, Snowy_Ashes, and Tc33 - Amie for opinions and beta duties. Hope you enjoy!

~beverlymaldoran