A/n: this is a bit abstract so bear with me. This is River in the ‘school’ before Simon gets to her, but after she sends the letter.

Enjoy!! ~~~~~~~~~~~

River’s world is a hole of things and she is forever falling. But sometimes she notices, and she knows that she has woken up and just had the bad luck to turn up on the wrong side of things.

She does not suffer from physical injuries-not anymore. She is immune to the pain. Instead she has a sense of buzzing in her head and she knows they’re just revisiting. They’ve been there before.

She knows she is not home, she knows she is wearing different sort of clothes then those she wore two years ago. In her mind the clothes are not the white shapeless gowns the blue-handed men have dressed her up in, but pretty stripped stockings with a matching patterned dress. River knows her sense of fashion is out of date but it is not, not in her mind’s eye. There are words everywhere on her clothes and she can’t read them. The fine print is ruining her, ruining her stockings and her dress.

The words are too small to make out, but they are there. And they itch.

The buzzing comes back, worse this time. She waves her hands desperately at it. There is blue clouding her mind and the buzzing will not go away.

River knows she is surrounded. She has that sense about her standing in the blue, drowning in the ocean of her mind; a mind she no longer knows. Everything is crowding around her and she gets flashes, flashes of the Fine Print magnified and she knows names.

‘Mom.’ ‘Dad.’ ‘Simon.’

She remembers the games in the study with Simon, the homework corrections and make-believe stories. She remembers the letter and just as quickly forgets-she does not want the blue men to follow her.

She passes through and the blue is spreading out before her, carrying forgetfulness and cold. And when she turns around she sees she has been followed.

She looks down and the Fine Print laughs at her:

‘River is a child.’ The Fine Print laughs.

‘I know what they want.’ River answers, rubbing at the ink and staining her dress.

‘River is a wearing a child’s dress.’ The Fine Print bites. River yanks her hand back.

‘They won’t get it.’ She says, cradling her buzzing fingers. ‘There has to be a map to get out, the blue can’t spread forever inside me.’

So River walks, the Fine Print cutting at her, and the buzzing continues to try and invade her senses. She walks to find her path and as she walks she knows she is waiting for something.

‘Make me bigger, then you can read your story,’ The Fine Print goads, ‘then you can read anyone’s story.’

‘They won’t get it.’ River says. ‘They won’t find the answer in here.’

But River has grown tired and she knows she is being forced to stop. So she sits before they can stop her, and she remembers the flashes.

Darkhairblueeyes

‘Why do I always have to be the Independence?’

whydowefightthemwhywhentheirwaysarerightandlogicallymakebettersense?

‘They don’t like being told what to do’

‘I will always be there for you River.’

Riveriverriverriverriver.river.river.ri.ver.r.i.ver.r.i.v.e.r.

And they are there; in the suddenness of a moment they are there. River is up; stumbling through the blue, locking onto the path she knows is there but cannot see. She knows she is close, she knows she is close because the Fine Print’s words have a harsher bite to them.

She loses sight of the path she cannot see and looks down. She looks down at her clothes and she finds she can read the Fine Print.

And she feels sick.