A/N: Okay, even though River's diary entries lists her meetings with The Doctors in order from One to Nine, I'm going with the idea she met them out of order (which I might explain later). And this chapter is a direct tie-in to "The Face of Evil," which may help you better understand it if you've seen that serial or at least read up on it.

Nine Times

Curly Q

"Can I be of assistance?"

River jolted, knocking a fingernail sized electronic chip off her work desk.

"Apologies, Ms. Song," Professor Candy said as he leaned forward to pick up the fallen chip. "I didn't mean to startle you." He set the chip beside River, who swiftly pocketed it and attempted to wedge herself between the professor and the main piece of the equipment from which the chip had dislodged. "I've simply noticed that you've been in here for the past few weeks working so tirelessly on whatever project you have going there that I thought I might be of some help."

River flashed a smile. "I appreciate the offer, Professor, but you're expertise is in antiquities and my project is most certainly not."

"What is it then?" he asked without judgment.

River pursed her lips as the old man removed his glasses and began to wipe them down with a cloth from his breast pocket. He certainly was an antiquities dealer, as that practice had become extinct long before the fifty-first century thanks to technological achievement. While he was distracted, she slid the remainder of her device into her clutch. "Shop class."

Professor Candy wrinkled his nose. "You won't catch me there, I'm afraid. I can't draw, much less build." He bowed his head while slipping his glasses back on. "All my luck though."

River nodded. "I appreciate the sentiment." She stood and gave the room a once over. "Did you have anything else for me to work on before we close up for the night?"

Professor Candy shook his head. "No, in fact I was just thinking we might head out early, if that works for you. I'm sure you must have plenty of coursework to fill your time."

"Something like that." River followed the professor to the door and opened it for him as he took their coats, his tan and hers black, down from his coat rack. "Thank you."

"Thank you," he winked, stepping out the door.

River shut the door and watched him lock it. Quietly, she fingered the device in her clutch. When the door was sealed, she gave him a smile and parted on her separate way. The night air drew goose bumps along her collarbone as she made her way back to her dorm room. She turned up the collar of her long coat at the halfway point and once safely inside, the door triple locked, she tossed her coat onto the back of her chair and unloaded the contents of her clutch onto her bed. Instead of makeup or change or identification, its contents consisted of a single deconstructed vortex manipulator.

River located the chip Professor Candy had picked up earlier and slid it into place within the unit. Given the infamy of the Time Agency in the fifty-first century, she assumed their agents would have been better trained. But Agent Hart had been a delightful surprise: easy to bed and easier to dupe. The more difficult part had been disabling the tracking device on the vortex manipulator before Hart realized it was missing and in the weeks following, learning how, exactly, it worked. She'd been quite sure she'd figured it out a handful of times, but each time she tested it, it had failed to transport her anywhere, and she was beginning to fear she'd damaged it when she disabled her tinkering.

"One more time," she said, screwing on the back platelet of the device. She secured the leather strap around her wrist and rounded her bed to her study desk, where one of her textbook volumes was lying open, featuring a photograph of a mountainside with a large face carved into it like Mount Rushmore. But unlike Rushmore, this mountain only had one face, with hair carved like Medusa's, giant bewildering eyes, and a slightly opened mouth as if it had just realized it had made a fatal mistake. If the history recorded in the surrounding text was to be believed, it—he—had made a fatal mistake, one that had caused insanity and the resultant devolution of a human settlement into two separate tribes, the Sevateem and the Tesh.

River punched in her desired date and hit the button, expecting the usual anti-reward of nothingness. Instead, she felt a crackle like static electricity rush across her skin and the next thing she knew, she was standing on the mountainside from her photo. But something wasn't right; there was no washed out, gray landscape of dying wilderness. The vegetation was green and the sun was warm on her skin. More than that, the place where the face should be was gone. No, not gone, but blank: the carving didn't exist yet.

"This isn't right." River lifted her wrist to examine the vortex manipulator. The date on the view screen was actively changing, moving backwards. She felt like she'd swallowed molten steel and now it was solidifying in her belly. If the vortex manipulator wasn't damaged before she'd stolen it, it was certainly damaged now. The irony was that her own manipulation had likely been the cause.

"Are you part of the survey team?"

River turned and froze: there he was, not the carving, but the very man himself. Not just a man though, a Time Lord. The face was one she only vaguely recognized. The only one seared into her memory was that of a baby's, with brown floppy hair and always with a bowtie. This one didn't have a bowtie.

"Hello, there!" He smiled and flashed a full row of teeth. "Did you hear me? I asked if you are part of the survey team!" He neared her and stopped, looking her up and down. "You don't look dressed for surveying…"

River glanced down at the fire colored corset top she was wearing, webbed with black lace and paired with black jodhpurs and a more conservative button-up long-sleeved red blouse, because even in a century where hormones ran amok, Luna University still managed to keep a dress code. "Oh, I'm here for a survey all right, but probably not the kind you're thinking of…and if don't believe me, I'm not opposed to a strip search."

The Doctor blinked. "That won't be necessary. Jelly Baby?"

"Never have, but I'd love to try."

He fumbled to pull something out of one of the wide pockets on his long velvet coat. He eventually pulled open a small white paper bag and dug around inside, then popped something into his mouth like a pill. After a moment he offered out his arm.

River blinked and proceeded to stroll up to him and pluck the entire bag from his hand. Inside, she found small sugar coated gelatin candies, like sour gummy bears, but shaped like chubby human babies. "Candy?"

"What else?" The Doctor asked obliviously.

River wrinkled her nose. "That's what I'm trying to find out." She popped a red Jelly Baby into her mouth and chewed it as she studied this new incarnation. "I rather like the fedora."

The Doctor obligingly tipped his hat, revealing the swathe of unruly brown curls, not unlike her own hair. No wonder they'd carved the head like giant serpents. "Love the hair!" she grinned, touching her own.

"We have that in common," he said, smiling. The Doctor dipped is hand into his pocket and pulled out a round alarm clock. "But I'm afraid I can't stay and chat, I need to get back to my ship for equipment."

River lifted an eyebrow. "What for?"

"I need to remove my personality from a super computer," The Doctor absently said as he passed her.

River snatched the end of his trailing scarf and played with the fray as she followed him. "Your ship, you say?"

"Yes, the TARDIS."

"You're a traveler then. Alone?"

"Presently."

River ran ahead of him, winding a loop of the scarf around The Doctor's neck. She wasn't ready to let him leave her just yet, especially not when her vortex manipulator was a bust. "One of a kind?" she asked, holding up the end.

"One of fourteen, actually." The Doctor chuckled as she wound it around her waist. "Knitted them myself!" he said proudly.

"I bet you did. Love to see the others…love to wrap myself up in this one right here."

The Doctor tugged the scarf out from between her fingers and let the end fall to the dark soil. "If you're not from the Mordee Expedition and you're not a native, then where are you from?"

River kept pace with him. "I'm a drifter. In fact, given that you have a ship and everything, maybe you'd like to drift me back to my dorm room?" She peeled back her sleeve, revealing her vortex manipulator. "I'm a bit stranded, you see."

"Ah! A Time Agent!" The Doctor beamed. "Yes, of course." He leaned in and sniffed her neck. "You do have that fifty-first century aroma. Not very strong though, have you been here long?"

River shook her head as they came around a rock formation and stopped. Ahead of her was the TARDIS. Lighter than she remembered from the Leadworth corn field, but clearly recognizable.

"That's my ship, just over there," The Doctor said.

River hurried behind, feeling the psychic pull of the ship more intensely with each leaf-crunching step. Her hearts were racing as The Doctor unlocked the door. Admittedly, the desktop was a little underwhelming, but the TARDIS still welcomed her with an electronic hum as she stepped over the threshold. She rattled off the coordinates to her dorm, but her true attention was on the painfully sanitary look of ship's interior. It was so clean and angular that it some ways, it reminded her of Greystark Hall, and before that, Kovarian's lab rooms.

"May I see that?" he asked, offering one hand as he worked a few levers at the TARDIS console with the other.

"What?"

"Your vortex manipulator."

Hesitantly, River peeled off the strap and placed it into The Doctor's awaiting hand. She felt her fingers tingle as they brushed across his skin, but he seemed unfazed.

He studied it as the TARDIS began to move, then drew an archaic-looking sonic screwdriver from his pocket and swished it over the device. The sonic hummed. "Seems there's a burnout in the STPS circuitry. That's an easy fix–"

"No! It–" River leaned against the console. "It was intentionally disabled, for – for a mission. But I think it shorted out something else by mistake. Can you just fix the dating?"

"Of course I can fix it," he said, nearly sounding affronted. "I'll need a replacement part though."

"And where do we get that?"

"Past the wardrobe. I'll be just a moment."

But River followed and delighted in the fact that he didn't stop her. She munched on a few more Jelly Babies as they descended into the intestines of the ship, passing the wardrobe and several other rooms, some with opened doors, some with closed. In one she noticed there was nothing but scarves, all exactly like the one around his neck, just like he'd said.

"Ah! Here we are. My shop room." The Doctor entered ahead of River and immediately moved to a toolbox on a workbench. After five minutes of tinkering, he proudly held up the vortex manipulator. "Good as new, Agent…"

"S–" River swallowed. "Smith."

"Smith." The Doctor studied her momentarily, as if he could smell the lie, but then smiled and took River's hand to wrap the vortex manipulator on. "Good as new, Agent Smith."

"And you, Curly Q? What's your name?" She leaned in close enough that their ringlets bounced against one another.

"The Doctor."

River shivered internally. "The Doctor." She gave him a once over. "Well, Doctor, if there's anything I can do to repay the favor..."

"My Jelly Babies."

"The candy?" she asked dryly.

"If you please." He offered his hand.

River rolled her eyes and returned the candy bag. At the same time the TARDIS began to groan and wheeze.

"Looks like we've landed! I'll walk you up, but I can't stay," he warned. He turned back in the direction from whence they'd come. "I do have to get back to fix Xoanon, otherwise I'm likely to forget." The Doctor tapped his temple.

"Forget," River repeated as they returned to the console room. She stepped towards the door as if to leave. "Actually, that's a splendid idea, because I'm sure this can't be good for the timelines." She suddenly grabbed the end of The Doctor's scarf and ripped it from his shoulders, using it like a lasso to rope The Doctor up. "I'm sorry, Sweetie," she looped one of her fingers through a stray brown curl, "but this will only take a moment…"

River stepped out of the TARDIS and hurried to her dresser where she pulled out her intimates drawer and dumped it over on her bed, revealing a small canister taped to the underside of the drawer. The label read: Mnemosine Recall-Wipe Vapour and warned in bold letters that matched the color of her top, Use with extreme caution! River gave the bottle a shake as she re-entered the TARDIS and found The Doctor attempting to weasel his way out of her exemplary confines.

"You'll have to blame Agent Hart for being such an easy mark," she said before she drew her shirt up over her mouth and nose and then sprayed the mnemosine recall-wipe vapour into The Doctor's face. As a thick mist settled around The Doctor's head and he began to sputter and cough, River quickly made her exit, but not before swiping the bag of Jelly Babies from his pocket on the way out, leaving a single red Jelly Baby on the console for her Sweetie when he came to again. She patted the door after she shut it. "I trust you'll take him where ever he needs to go?"

The TARDIS whirred in response and her brakes squealed again as the blue box vanished from the dorm room.

River threw herself onto her bed and admired her newly operative vortex manipulator. Slowly, a devious thought began to formulate in her head and she glanced again at the can of mnomosine. She slowly turned it over and read: For best results, use within minutes of memory exposure. Older memories are more likely to be recalled given effective stimuli. River capped the bottle, which looked like as innocent as a tin of hairspray until you read the fine print, and dropped it into her clutch. If she ever saw Agent Hart again, she was going to give him a proper thank you, though he was sure not to remember it.

After a time, she took a seat at her work desk and stared at the photograph of the carving of The Doctor's face—one of them, anyway—into the mountainside. Between history and time travel, finding a good man had suddenly taken on a whole new meaning. "I'll find evidence of a good man, or the lack thereof. But whatever I find, I'll be the one to make the final judgment." And just like that, school suddenly had its purpose and she had her liberation, for which there was only one word: "Archaeology."