Archive of Our Own

Feel it in my bones, voices from below saying if you love her, let her go. But i was born a stubborn soul, my vices are my own. - Of Lovers and Liars (Family and Friends)

By the time he’s finished reading the afterword for a tenth time, tears drying on his face, River is nowhere to be found. She’s still on the TARDIS, he knows that much, but she’s no doubt avoiding him - which is understandable considering everything that’s transpired in the last few hours.

Sighing and pulling his bow tie loose, the Doctor opens the door to his bedroom, freezing when he spots the lump under the covers.

“River,” he breathes out automatically, the sight of her calming something inside him.

Her face is illuminated by the light from the corridor, and his hearts clench painfully behind his ribcage when he realises she must have fallen asleep crying. He bites his tongue in thought, eyes following the dried tracks her tears have left on her cheeks, and thinks about her clipped ‘it doesn’t matter’ ; he really is a rubbish husband.

The Doctor drags a hand down his face, and briefly considers finding somewhere else to sleep for the night. But River makes a soft, sad noise, curling further into herself, and he knows he can’t bear the thought of being away from her, of trying to sleep in a cold bed with nothing but his own thoughts for company.

He undresses quickly, and slips under the covers beside her. She doesn’t stir at his actions and it’s with a cold sense of dread the Doctor realises she’s already no longer sleeping.

“River…” he pries, breathing out heavily when she doesn’t reply. “River, I’m sorry.”

The words aren’t enough, he’s not sure anything will ever be enough, but he finds he’s far too afraid to reach out and hold her. They stay like that for hours, the Doctor staring blankly at the ceiling, chest painfully tight as he longs for his wife, and River curled in on herself, barely breathing.

Eventually, his body betrays him, the stress of the day finally dragging him under into a restless sleep. He’s not sure how long he sleeps for, but the TARDIS being piloted out of the vortex wakes him instantly, pulling him out of the darkened dreams he was no doubt a victim to. He sits up, hand instinctively reaching out for River only to find her side of the bed empty and cold.

The Doctor dresses as fast as he can, leaving his bow tie undone around his neck, and rushes to the control room. River’s at the console, dressed in the grey dress she always likes to wear into battle, and his hearts fall at the sight.

“River, what are you doing?” he asks, jumping down the stairs two at a time and skidding to a halt beside her.

He can see the muscles in her jaw flex, her eyes purposely avoiding looking in his direction.

“She wouldn’t let me use my vortex manipulator.”

“Are you...River, are you trying to leave?”

She snaps at that, spinning to face him, and looking angrier than he’s seen her in a long while.

“And why would I stay?” she bites out, and regardless of her horrific need to hide the damage, he can tell she’s on the brink of tears. “I can’t…I...”

He moves, despite her anger, rushing forwards and wrapping her in his arms before she breaks, helping her to hide the damage in the only way he knows how. She stifles a sob, burying her head into his jacket, fingers digging into the lapels.

His family are gone, his Amelia and her roman, but they’d left him a goodbye. River, their daughter , has nothing left but a grieving husband. He pulls her tighter against him, whispering Gallifreyan words of promise and apology into her curls, and silently begs her for forgiveness.

The TARDIS hums urgently in his mind, and the Doctor pulls back the same time River does, both of them watching the time rotor spark dangerously beside them. The controls shift by themselves, throwing the Doctor into the console as the ship judders through the vortex.

“What’s going on?” River asks, turning away from him to face the controls.

He pretends he doesn’t notice her wipe tears from her cheeks, and follows her movements, staring up at the scanner that’s flashing nothing but static.

“Something’s wrong,” he replies, the humming in his mind even more urgent than before.

River winces, and he knows she must be feeling the TARDIS’ distress on an even higher level than him.

“Nice observation, sweetie,” she snaps, her fingers dancing over the controls.

“Yes, well, there isn’t a manual for this sort of thing, is there?”

“There certainly is, you just throw it into a supernova every time she gives you a new one!”

The Doctor deflates a little at that, because she’s right, as usual. He smashes his hands into the blue stabilisers, and River yelps, the controls sparking beneath her fingertips. He throws himself to the other side of the console, moving to pull her away from the fire beginning to lick its way up the time rotor.

“Stop,” she yells, struggling against him. “We need to land her before she explodes with us inside. Trust me, that’s not a pleasant experience.”

“You losing your hands to an electrical fire won’t help the situation either, River!”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d just waste more regeneration energy to fix it.”

They both freeze at her outburst. A small explosion fires off beside them, but the Doctor barely notices, too focussed on watching River as she inhales, eyes closing as her jaw shifts to bite the inside of her cheek.

“River…we need to talk about this.”

“No,” she murmurs. “We don’t.”

She pulls away from him, and slides round to the opposite side of the console, pulling on the main lever and smashing her hand into the stabilisers he’d used only a moment earlier. This time the button works; the TARDIS shudders, engines groaning in a whine that makes them both grimace.

The Doctor looks up at the scanner, the static on the screen making way for a scrolling mess of error messages instead. A single ‘ERROR’ flashes up once and before he knows what’s happening, the TARDIS crashes into something outside, and sends him flying head first over the railings behind him.

--

His eyes flicker open and he groans, hand flying up to his pounding head and rubbing at the bridge of his nose to try and relieve the pressure. The TARDIS is dark, the power drained from whatever had caused her to malfunction, but he’s relieved to find his ship hasn’t burnt to ash during his impromptu slumber.

The Doctor staggers to his feet, and after a quick body check, concludes he’s taken a big whack to the head from crashing into the floor, but is otherwise okay. A small sliver of daylight shines through open doors, casting a dim shaft of light across the floor, and it takes him a moment to realise what exactly is out of place; there’s no sign of his wife.

He pushes back the brief flash of panic, because River is more than capable of looking after herself, and decides she must have taken less of a hit from the crash. Slowly, he makes his way out of the TARDIS, wincing when the bright sunlight burns at his eyes. He relaxes slightly as his vision clears to find River standing just in front of him. She’s turned away, shoulders stiff, and the panic wells up in him again; it’s never a good sign when River’s tensed for battle.

He steps forward and laces his hand with hers, relieved when she doesn’t pull away and instead tightens her fingers in his.

“Doctor,” she whispers. “Why are we here?”

He finally looks up at the building casting a shadow over them and swallows thickly. It’s oddly poetic that the TARDIS would end up here after everything that’s happened.

He’s about to reply, but his words turn into a yelp as something knocks into him from the side, clamping round his legs. He looks down, expecting to find some sort of creature, and is surprised to find a small girl hugging him tightly instead.

“More importantly, River. Why is there a tiny human wrapped around me?” he squeaks.

River gasps, and he looks back at her to see her eyes have gone wide with something that looks disturbingly like fear .

“River…”

“That can’t be…” She looks up at him, horrified. “Doctor, she looks just like-”

“Melody!”

They both snap their heads round to find the source of the new voice, though the Doctor would recognise it anywhere.

“Amelia Pond,” he breathes, suddenly finding it hard to draw air as Amy appears at the back door of her house.

“Oh, Doctor! I didn’t hear the TARDIS. You’re a bit early, by the way.” She shoots him a disapproving look before grinning and jogging forwards to grab Melody from his legs. She hefts the girl up to sit on her hip and bops her gently on the nose. “What have I told you about running off like that, Melody?”

“But, mummy, it’s the Doctah!”

River makes a pained noise beside him and nausea stirs in his stomach at the sound. The Doctor squeezes her hand, trying to offer her comfort and hoping she’ll accept it. She doesn’t squeeze back, and for the life of him he can’t figure out what that means.  

“Oh, who’s your friend?” Amy asks, looking past him as she notices River.

For the briefest moment, Amy’s brow furrows, eyes roaming over River like she should know who she is but can’t quite remember.

“We’re in an alternate universe,” he murmurs as the realisation dawns on him.

River sends a glare in his direction, no doubt having already figured it out, and slips her hand out of his to step past him and greet Amy.

“I’m River,” she says, and it’s only because he’s known her for so long that he can recognise the pain in her voice at once again having to introduce herself to her own mother. “I’m his compan-”

“Wife ,” he cuts in firmly, refusing to let River diminish her importance to him.

River sighs at the same time Amy squeals.

“You got married?! Why weren’t we invited? Oh my god, Raggedy Man, why are we only just meeting her?”

River gives him another glare, but before either of them can explain the situation to Amy, the familiar sound of the TARDIS engines echoes in the back garden. His hearts each skip a beat, panicking at the thought of his TARDIS leaving them stranded, only to relax when a second police box materialises into view beside them.

There’s an awkward silence until the doors of the second TARDIS open, and another Doctor appears, strolling out into the garden.

“Doctah!” Melody shouts, either not realising or not caring that there are now two of the same man standing in her back garden.

The alternate Doctor’s mouth opens and closes, a finger rising in question at the sight of them. He visibly pales when his eyes land on River, eyes widening in panic, and the Doctor feels anger well up inside him as it all clicks into place.

“You erased her?” he yells, River’s sudden hand on his arm the only thing stopping him from doing something stupid.

“Sweetie, don’t.”

“River, he erased you.”

“I can see that.”

“Aren’t you mad?”

“A little, but you didn’t erase me, honey.”

Her hand slides down his arm and she laces her fingers with his again. He calms down slightly at that, but the injustice of River Song not existing in every universe still sits heavily in his chest.

“Alright, someone explain,” Amy demands, shifting Melody from one hip to the other.

“They’re from a different universe, Amy,” the other him says, stepping out further from his TARDIS and keeping a wary eye on the Doctor. “Whenever a substantial amount of time is rewritten, it branches off, splitting into a universe of its own.”

“Like with my parents and Aunt Sharon?”

“Sort of, though the crack in your wall is the reason they didn’t exist in the first place. We fixed time instead of rewriting it.”

“Doctah!” Melody grumbles, struggling in Amy’s arms.

With a long suffering sigh, Amy sets her daughter back on the ground and watches the girl toddle over to the alternate Doctor. He grins, picking her up and twirling her around before settling her against his hip.

“Hello my little puddle,” he says gently.

River’s nails dig into the Doctor’s hand, a small, shaky gasp escaping her. His hearts ache for her and he longs to pull her closer, but he knows she won’t appreciate the affectionate display right now, not when her emotions are threatening to overwhelm her.

“So how come we’ve never met you?” Amy says, appearing in front of the two of them, her question directed towards River. “And what did you mean when you said my Doctor erased her?”

“Your Doctor rewrote time,” the Doctor answers, ignoring the nails digging harder into his hand. “And erased this world’s River from existence.”

“What, why? Why would he do that?”

“For her,” River says before the Doctor has a chance to speak, nodding to where the other man is chatting away to Melody. “To give her a childhood.”

“I don’t understand,” Amy replies, looking between River and Melody. “What has my daughter got to do with you?”

River inhales shakily, and the Doctor takes a small step in front of her, standing between his wife and the woman who should be, but isn’t, his mother-in-law.

“Well, we’re stuck here for a bit until we can repair the TARDIS,” the Doctor tells her, forcing a grin that’s far too happy for how he feels onto his face. “Stick the kettle on, Pond. And we’ll tell you everything.”

--

He sits in the Ponds’ living room, River sat beside him, her hand still clutched in his. She’d tried to pull away when they’d first entered the house, but he’d refused to let go. He isn’t going to allow her to hide the damage from him, not now, not anymore; not when all they have left is each other.

The alternate Doctor is sat on the armchair just off to the side, little Melody sat happily on his lap. The sight makes the Doctor’s stomach churn uncomfortably, and he can’t help but wonder how ill it’s making River feel.

“So you’re telling me, in your universe, you’re my daughter?” Amy says from where she’s pacing in front of the fireplace.

He watches his wife from the corner of his eye; she swallows, jaw tense, and nods in reply to Amy’s question.

“And I never got to raise you?”

“She was raised by Kovarian, the eyepatch lady. To kill me,” he answers for River. “Ended up marrying me instead. I definitely got the better deal there.”

He lets off a small laugh and smiles at River, shooting a glance at his alternate self, happy to see the other man shift uncomfortably in his seat.

“So you didn’t get my baby back for me?” Amy pushes.

“I knew River before I ever stumbled upon you in your back garden, Amelia Pond. It killed me inside to watch you mourn your daughter, especially when she wasn’t even dead.”

He knows Amy and Rory had tried, so hard, to accept River as theirs, but he also knows they had never really succeeded. Amy’s goodbye in the graveyard, and the afterword she’d left in her book, had proven that well enough.

River’s ‘it doesn’t matter’ rings in his head again. Because it should have, it should have mattered.

“It kills me every time River wakes from nightmares of my making, that she spent decades in prison just to keep me safe. I don’t deserve her in the slightest.”

“Sweetie,” River hums, and he knows she hates him blaming himself for the Order, hates him thinking of himself as the bad guy. He rubs a thumb gently over her knuckles in reply.

“She’s told me, numerous times,” he says, eyes squeezing shut and voice dropping as he tries and fails to not remember the Library, “demanded even, that I don’t rewrite one line of our life together. And after everything I’ve done, after everything she’s done for me, I owe it to her. So no, Amy, I didn’t get your baby back in our universe.”

There’s silence in the living room, even little Melody staying quiet on the other Doctor’s lap, until Amy breaks the moment quietly.

“Well. I’m glad my Doctor gave Melody a real life. I’m sorry yours couldn’t do the same for you, River.”

Her words are like a knife to his chest, and the Doctor sighs, looking down at the hand he still has wrapped around River’s. Amy moves over to the alternate Doctor and picks up her daughter, hugging her tightly before turning back round to face them.

“You can stay here, in the spare room, for as long as you need whilst you fix your TARDIS.” She jerks her head towards the kitchen. “Raggedy Man, a word. ”

As soon as they leave, River’s free hand shoves him in the chest. He winces, thankful that for once it isn’t a slap, and holds her hand against him.

“You’re such a sentimental idiot,” she breathes, fingers curling into his tweed.

“But I’m your sentimental idiot,” he replies with a grin that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, pulling her closer into him.

He dips his head, brushing his lips softly against hers and she sighs against his mouth, both hands moving up to grab his shoulders.

“I meant it, River. I don’t deserve you.”

She doesn’t reply, instead her hand slips round the base of his neck and pulls him back against her. Her lips slant over his, and he groans, slipping his tongue into her mouth to stroke against hers; she tastes like she always does, like the time vortex she was born from, all the possibilities stretching out between them, the freedom he’s always been running towards.

His hand slips slowly up her thigh, sliding against her skin, and River moans, arching up into him briefly before pulling away and shooting him a disapproving look.  

“What?”

She raises an eyebrow, and pushes his hand back down to her knee.

“Not when there’s a three year old running around, honey. Especially when that three year old is me...it’s a little too weird for my liking.”

He pouts, and she smiles in response, hands moving to his neck to fix the bow tie he’d never gotten around to tying. Her fingers smooth over it gently, smile flickering slightly at the corners of her mouth, and the Doctor’s hearts stutter at the realisation that she’s once again hiding the damage.

--

The rest of the afternoon passes in an exhausting blur.

When Rory gets home from the hospital, he takes the situation as well as Rory always does - with a sigh and a request to put the kettle on.

The alternate Doctor hovers awkwardly, playing with Melody whenever she asks, but otherwise trying his hardest to avoid the Doctor. The Doctor, however, keeps his eyes glued to his other self, anger slowly seething beneath his skin, watching the man follow River’s every move as she helps Amy make the dinner - something he knows has to be killing her inside considering they only lost her parents less than twenty four hours ago.

The other Doctor’s eyes don’t stray from her, watching closely as River dances round the kitchen with the grace and beauty the Doctor is used to seeing from her. The anger itches down his spine; how dare this other version of himself watch his wife with such longing in his gaze when he’d had the audacity to kill her in this universe.

“You really don’t deserve her in the slightest,” not-him says quietly, eyes still focussed on the two women in the kitchen.

The Doctor’s jaw clenches, but the anger quickly makes way for guilt in his stomach, because even though the other him is a prick, what he’s said isn’t wrong.

“I’ve never said otherwise,” he grunts, hands fisting into the fabric of the sofa beneath him.

“You didn’t save her though, did you.”

It’s not a question. And he doesn’t bother treating it as such, staying silent and letting his own eyes follow his wife’s movements in the kitchen.

“She’s happy,” the other him says slowly, continuing to push at the Doctor’s last nerve. “Amy, I mean. Melody too. Both of them. I’ve seen her, you know? Melody when she’s all grown up. She looks a lot more like them than River does, but I’m assuming there was a regeneration or two along the way?”

It takes a moment for the Doctor to realise this version of him has never done Berlin, has never been murdered by his own personal, bespoke assassin. It makes a smile curl in the corners of his mouth, because this other Doctor has never had the chance to see how beautiful River can be, surrounded by regeneration energy, bright eyes dancing as she discovers herself anew.

“This is her third body,” he finds himself saying, mouth apparently wanting to talk about River before his brain can tell him why that’s a stupid idea.

The other him snorts disparagingly.

“Couldn’t save her, couldn’t keep her safe. And yet you think I made the wrong choice.”

The Doctor is painfully reminded of Amy’s earlier comment about failing to give River a real life, and more importantly how River hadn’t said anything to to rebuke it. She’d once begged him not to change their lives, crown of electrics sitting atop her curls, a countdown to her death echoing around them. But deep down, the Doctor knows it had never been about that. He’s a selfish old man, and he’d wanted to keep the love in her eyes, the love for him, alive.

“Tell me, Doctor,” other him spits. “What’s worse? Growing up with parents who love you, living your life without predestiny, falling in love normally? Or dying in a shadow filled Library with a husband who won’t save you and doesn’t even know your real name?”

The Doctor stands without thinking, vision blurry, and storms from the room, door slamming shut behind him.

He’s barely been gone a minute when River finds him sat outside on the grass between the two TARDISes. She has the small smile on her face that lets him know she’s worried about how bad a mood he’s in, and he can’t help but think of Manhattan and the horrific way he’d treated her after seeing the chapter titles foretelling of Amy’s goodbye.

She moves slowly across the garden, dress swirling around her knees, until she’s stood directly in front of him, arched eyebrow silently asking what’s wrong. He sighs, reaching out to tug her towards him, and rests his forehead against her stomach. Her hands quickly find their way into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp in comfort.

He’s not sure how long they stay like that, River humming something softly whilst he buries his head against the fabric of her dress and tries not to cry. Losing her is always in the back of his mind, burning away at his happiness whenever he gives it a chance to, but his alternate self’s words, so soon after losing his Ponds, had brought it all back up to the surface.

The other him might not have River as his wife, might not get to love River, or hold River in his arms, but he also won’t have to send her to the Library and lose himself to grief the day she dies.

He swallows painfully against the lump of emotion clogging his throat, realising with a further sense of horror and guilt that once again River is comforting him, when it really should be the other way around.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles into her stomach.

River lets out a long sigh above him before speaking.

“I forgive you, my love.”

“You don’t even know what I’m sorry for.”

“I don’t need to know.” She slides her hands down to his chin, lifting his head up and forcing him to look at her. “Always and completely, Doctor.”

Their wedding vows, their promise to each other. He smiles.

“I don’t deserve you, River Song.”

“Oh, sweetie,” she says, crouching down so her face is level with his. “No one does.”

She kisses him lightly, before pulling back and tapping his cheek twice with her hand. With a sinful smirk on her lips, she stands and strides back into the house, hips swaying as she walks. He watches her go, no doubt looking like the besotted idiot he knows himself to be.

--

During dinner, the Doctor watches River closely, guilt building up inside him at the tense way she holds herself around the family that isn’t hers, but should be. She barely touches her food, fork shifting her carrots around her plate whilst she stares absentmindedly at where Rory is feeding Melody her mashed potatoes.

The alternate Doctor switches between staring at River and staring at him and he’s not sure if the awkwardness is just between the three of them or if the Ponds can feel it too. The Doctor shifts his eyes away from River to find Amy burning a hole in him with her own gaze from across the table.

He swallows. Not just them then.

“So, Pond,” he begins, eyes widening in a slow spread of panic when he realises he has nothing further to say.

His mouth hangs open for a few seconds before he shuts it and winces. River’s head twitches slightly, like she wants to turn to him but can’t bring herself to do so. The silence stretches out, long and painful, and the Doctor is suddenly very tempted to just grab River and leave, to think of an excuse to retire to bed early and drag his wife from the parents who aren’t her parents. To figure out a way to fix all of this. To fix them .

Thankfully, Rory - quiet and faithful Rory the Roman - comes to the rescue, wiping away the mash potato mess in front of Melody, and turning in his seat to face River.

“Do you two travel together then, in the TARDIS?” he asks.

“Of course they do, stupid face,” Amy interrupts, her eyes still burning into the Doctor, challenging him. “They’re married. ”

“Uh…” The Doctor winces and looks between the Ponds and River, fingers tapping awkwardly against the table cloth, mind forcing him to relieve the awkward conversation they’d had just after losing her parents.

But not all the time.

One psychopath per TARDIS, don’t you think?

He swallows again, thicker this time, his throat feeling uncomfortably dry. How much of a marriage do they really have, when his wife doesn’t even want to live and travel with him. He looks over at Amy, eyes darting to where Rory is sat beside her, and feels his hearts clench painfully tight. His Ponds, together or not at all. That’s the life he wants to give River, but it’s not the life she apparently wants him to give.

“We-”

“I’m a university professor,” River says softly. “I only travel with him some of the time.”

“What do you teach?” Rory continues, and in any other circumstance the small talk would be welcome. But not now. Not so soon after Manhattan.

Nevertheless, a soft smile pulls at the corners of River’s lips as she answers. “Archaeology.”

“Rubbish discipline,” he finds himself saying automatically, the banter too ingrained. The alternate him echoes the sentiment, hand snapping up to his mouth far too late to stop the words.

Surprisingly, it makes River’s mouth twitch, and the beginnings of a real, full smile form on her face. The Doctor’s shoulders relax at the sight, some of the tension slowly easing from his body.

“So do we - your versions of us I mean - still travel with you, Doctor?” Amy asks.

The tension slams right back into him, his breath catching in his throat, and his grief over losing the Ponds hits him in full force, burning a hole through his insides. He stares at Amy blankly, unable to look towards where River is no doubt struggling to hide her reaction as well.

“Yes,” River ends up answering for him again, voice tight as she stabs a carrot with much more force than necessary. “Every now and then.”

The Doctor isn’t entirely sure why River is lying to them, but he has to admit he’s glad she is. Everything is painful enough without having to relive the loss of their Ponds in explaining what had happened in New York to the alternate Amy and Rory.

“Got a bit bored of me in the end, Pond,” he forces the words out, adding a small laugh to his words, but he doubts anyone in the room buys it for a second.

“Doctah!” Melody squeals happily at him, throwing her arms up, and he’s never been more thankful for a distraction. “Doctah, Doctah.”

“She doesn’t say much else, does she?” the Doctor says without thinking.

Amy hums. “Your name was her first word. And unsurprisingly, it’s also her favourite.”

River’s fork screeches across her plate and clatters onto the table. The Doctor reaches out a hand for her, but thinks better of it, curling his fingers against his palm instead. She’d told him, once, how her first word had been his name, soon prefaced by her second: kill . At the time, she’d laughed about it, happy in his arms and letting him kiss her giggles away.

“Are you okay, River?” Rory asks, brows furrowed in concern.

“I...sorry,” she manages to reply, and the Doctor’s horrified to see her hand shake when she picks the fork up off the table. “Slipped.”

River doesn’t break like this. No matter what, she’s always calm and collected, even when she really shouldn’t be. He thinks briefly of all the times she’s almost died with a laugh on her lips or an innuendo rolling off her tongue, before his mind focuses once more on the Library. The Doctor bites his tongue, hard, and taps his fingers anxiously on the table cloth again.  

“I think,” he finds himself saying. “We’re both just tired. It’s been a weird day…”

He trails off, eyes somehow finding Amy, who’s staring at him again, an odd expression on her face. River nods slightly beside him, laying her fork gently on the plate and muttering a soft, “thank you for dinner.”

The Doctor takes that as their cue to leave and stumbles up out of his chair, moving to offer a hand to help River up from hers. She ignores it, and the Doctor’s throat burns at his wife’s refusal to take his hand, watching as she stands gracefully from her chair and pushes it back under the table.

--

As soon as the door to the spare bedroom shuts behind them, the Doctor feels an overwhelming wave of tiredness seep into his bones. He’s thankful Amy is letting them stay in the guest room, because he’s far too exhausted to try and make the TARDIS hospitable until tomorrow morning.

River steps out of her dress, letting it crumple to the floor at her feet, and he feels the guilt sitting heavily in his stomach, the lines of her body still far too tense. He steps towards her, hands coming to rest on her waist, wincing when she only tenses further at his touch. Slowly, he leans forwards to bring his mouth to her shoulder, kissing her skin softly, his thumbs brushing gently over the curve of her lower back. River sighs, body relaxing slightly under his ministrations, and leans into him.

“Come on, River,” he whispers into her neck. “Let’s get you to bed.”

She nods mutely in response, and he knows he should be worried by her complete lack of innuendo, but the day has been a drag on both of them, so he’s not exactly surprised. He leads her towards the bed, slowly stripping her of the rest of her clothing until she’s completely naked beneath his hands. He tears off his own clothes in record time, and pulls River flush against him, collapsing together into the cold bed sheets.

Her curves fit against him perfectly as always; his bespoke wife.

“Should I be worried, Professor Song,” he breathes against her ear.

She moves to shift on top of him, hands steadying herself on his chest, and raises an eyebrow in question. The Doctor’s own hands slide up her thighs to rest on her hips.

“We’ve been here for hours and not once have you made a joke about there being two of me.”

She smirks at that, but he can tell it’s as forced as his joke, and it makes his chest tense uncomfortably.

“Sorry, sweetie. Been a busy kind of day. The thought hasn’t even crossed my mind.”

His fingers twitch, thumbs pressing against her skin, the guilt burning its way through his gut.

“Good,” he mutters childishly, tugging her down against him. “Because I don’t want to share you with that jerk.”

Her lips twitch with the hints of a real smile at his jealousy, her mouth pressing tantalisingly against his collarbone

“Sweetie, he’s you,” she purrs.

He bristles under her, instantly regretting bringing the topic up as the anger for his alternate self returns.

“No he is not. River, I could never, I would never…”

“Erase me?” She raises her head to look at him and he nods. “You thought about it though, didn’t you?”

He nods again, mouth suddenly feeling far too dry. He swallows painfully, hands stroking gently across the skin of her waist.

“Today’s brought it all back. Everything your parents had to go through, everything you had to go through, because of me. I’m not worth you losing your family.” River tenses, fingers curling against his chest, both of them thinking about an angel statue in a graveyard. “But I am far too selfish to ever let you go, River Song.”

She relaxes slightly at that, legs shifting to tangle with his, and pushes herself back up to hover over him.

“Good,” she growls, and the sound goes straight through him. “Because I don’t intend to let you go either.”

She presses her mouth against his, kissing him slowly. He groans, grabbing at her hips tightly when she shifts against him. He knows what she’s doing, understands her far better than she thinks he does, but it still takes a conscious effort for him to pull away from her attempts at a distraction.

“You should, River,” he mumbles against her mouth. “You deserve better than me, than this. I want you to be happy.”

Her hands slide against his chest, one hand resting over each of his hearts.

“I am happy,” she breathes. “With you.”

He rolls her under him, capturing her gasp with his mouth, hands skating up her sides and over her ribs. River lets out a breathy moan against his lips, arching up into him and sliding her hands up to his neck.

He buries his head against her throat, teeth nipping against her skin, and thinks of Manhattan.

I am happy.

Of how he’d ignored her grief for his.

With you.

Of how her parents’ last words had been for him and not for their daughter.

River whines softly beneath him, and the Doctor can’t help but wonder if she’s lying.

**

River wakes instantly, just like she always has done, eyes snapping open and focussing on her bedroom ceiling stretching over her.

It takes a moment for her memories to rush back after the bliss of a dreamless sleep, but then Manhattan and the angels and the graveyard and her parents slams back into her all at once, causing her to sit up with a gasp.

Tears flood to her eyes, and she swallows, clenching her teeth together tightly and relishing in the pain that shoots up her jaw.

It’s not her bedroom after all. Because the Amy and Rory who own this house aren’t her parents, because River Song doesn’t exist here, she never has. Just a little girl who has never had to go to bed hungry, who has never died in pain in a dark and disgusting alley in the streets of New York.

She wipes furiously at her eyes, and looks down at the man breathing softly beside her. It’s rare for her to wake before him, considering how little sleep he actually needs, and she uses the opportunity to watch his face as he dreams.

She’d be an idiot to not realise something else has been troubling him, something other than the loss of her parents - she takes a moment to push back a fresh wave of tears - and the guilt of seeing Melody Pond so happy and loved. She knows he hasn’t realised it, but he’s been looking at her like he’s already lost her too.

Losing her parents, being here, it’s slowly breaking him, and River isn’t sure she can hide her own pain long enough to help her husband grieve.

He mumbles her name in his sleep, and despite herself, River smiles, shifting to stroke her finger down the line of his jaw.

Seeing the life she could have lived is leaving her raw and bleeding inside, but she’d spoken the truth when she told him she had no intention of giving him up. It’s a rather frightening thought, loving someone so much you’d ruin yourself to be with them. But she’s made her choices, and she’d make the same ones a hundred times over if she had to.

The digital clock on the bedside table tells her it’s only 5am, far too early for her to wake the rest of the small house with a well needed shower. With a sigh, River slips out of the bed, a small, fond smile forming on her lips when the Doctor protests at her absence in his sleep, and picks her discarded dress up from the floor.

She pulls it on over her head, and quietly slips from the room, hoping the TARDIS has enough power left for her to wash up or at least grab a fresh set of clothing.

As it turns out, the TARDIS won’t even let her inside, doors remaining shut even when she strokes her hands over the wood and begs the ship to let her in. Her head thumps against the doors and River lets out a frustrated groan.

“Throwing a fit is she?” the Doctor says behind her.

She spins around to find the other version of her husband leaning against the open door of his TARDIS.

“She’s probably still annoyed at whatever it was that caused her to malfunction,” she replies, watching him carefully.

He holds himself the same way her Doctor does, but there’s less tension between his shoulders, less grief present behind his eyes. It makes her hearts ache for the man she’s left sleeping upstairs, that his choice to let her be River has weighed so heavily on him.

“Well, whatever you need, I’m sure you can find it in mine,” the other Doctor is saying.

He steps forward and gestures inside his TARDIS with both hands. River hesitates, unsure, shivering slightly in the early morning air before deciding she really could do with a shower. She brushes past him with a soft thanks, stepping into his TARDIS and instantly collapsing to her knees at the sudden pain tearing her head apart.  

The other Doctor drops beside her in a panic, hands sliding over her shoulders. She can see the confusion spread across his face, see him shouting her name, but she can’t hear anything over the sound screaming through her skull. There’s a weight pushing down on her, pressing her into the floor; she can’t move, can’t escape, can’t breathe. She can feel his hands on her, tugging on her arms, but her vision starts to blur, the pain in her head spiking to an unbearable level. Everything goes black.

River.

River, come on, wake up.

River!

She jerks awake, eyes fluttering open to be welcomed by the bright pink light of the morning sky. Her head is heavy, fuzzy, and for a moment she wonders if she’d spent the night drinking Jack Harkness under the table again, before the alternate Doctor’s worried face appears above her.

“Hello sweetie,” she manages to rasp out.

“River, what...are you okay?”

She groans, using his arm to pull herself into a sitting position, and buries her head in her hands. Her face feels warm against her palms and she can feel her heartbeats thudding in her temples against the pads of her fingertips.

“You tell me. What the hell just happened?”

“I don’t think my TARDIS likes you.”

“Don’t be silly, of course she like-” she trails off. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Child of the TARDIS,” she mutters to herself, lifting her head and sliding her gaze up to meet his. “You erased me, I shouldn’t be here. I’m a part of her that she shouldn’t have. So instead of the connection I usually have with my TARDIS…”

“She rejected your mental link.”

River nods, wincing when it makes her headache worsen.

“Can you...uh, do you…”

“Telepathy?” she guesses and he nods. “Not like you, I’m only part Time Lord. But in a way, yes.”

“You could try a mental block?”

River hums in reply, eyes shifting over to the other TARDIS. She shivers in the morning breeze, jumping slightly in surprise when the alternate Doctor’s tweed wraps around her shoulders. He twists and drops down next to her on the grass, shoulder bumping gently against hers. River purses her lips and looks at him, eyebrow raised. He ignores her questioning stare and crosses his legs, leaning back to look up at the sky.

“I’ve never tried to close myself off to the TARDIS. And I’m not sure I ever want to,” she says, joining him in looking up at the brightening sky above them. She sighs. “And I was really looking forward to that shower…”

He makes a muffled noise beside her and despite herself she smirks at the blush no doubt creeping over his face.

They sit in a comfortable silence, River holding his jacket tightly around her shoulders, listening to the Doctor pull blades of grass from the ground between them.

“Are you happy, River?” he says eventually.

Her eyebrows raise at the unexpected question, and she tilts her head gently towards him.

“I’m sorry?”

“Happy. Are you happy?”

“I…”

He doesn’t look surprised at her lack of an instant reply, and it sends a flash of annoyance through her. What right does he have to pry into her life, when he’d changed it so easily in this universe?

“How are your Amy and Rory doing?” he asks instead, and something in his voice suggests he already knows the answer.

She inhales sharply and bites the inside of her bottom lip, hard, hoping the physical pain will stop the emotions from tearing through her chest. It doesn’t work and she squeezes her eyes shut as they well up with tears again. Somehow, hiding the damage doesn’t seem to work when the Doctor beside her isn’t her Doctor.

“We just lost my parents,” she finds herself saying, wishing she could take the words back as soon as they pass her lips.

Her surprises her again by letting out a soft, bitter laugh through his nose.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, tilting his head back to look up at the house.

Silence stretches out between them, the alternate Doctor staring up at the darkened windows, whilst River struggles to reel in her emotions. It’s different, being with this other version of her husband, the version who had so easily erased her existence from the universe. She’s horrified to find that, in a way, it’s easier , to sit next to him with tears rolling down her face. She draws in a breath, wiping the tears from her cheekbones with the heels of her hands, and dips her head to look at the man beside her.

“Why?” she asks.

His eyes dart from the house to land on her, and River doesn’t miss the way his gaze roves over her body. It makes her feel cold, despite the warm tweed wrapped around her shoulders.

“Because I’ve struggled so much with what I did, choosing Amy and Melody over you. But the more I’m around you, and him, the more I’m beginning to realise I made the right choice.”

Choice .

River chews at her lip, her toes curling into the dirt as she processes the word. The grass beneath her is damp from the morning dew, and it seeps through her dress, chilling her thighs. She shudders, not entirely due to the cold ground pressing against her, not able to stop herself thinking of how much of her life is grasped between the Doctor’s hands.

“How much do you remember? Of me? Of your River.”

“She was never mine,” he says, almost instantly. “And I don’t remember much, unless I force it. But I do remember being half way in love with you by Demon’s Run.”

She inhales sharply at such an admission, stumbling over her next words as she focuses her gaze on his face.

“And...that wasn’t enough?”

He smiles, wistful and reminiscent, the brightness not quite reaching his eyes. There’s a beat in time, so strong that River can feel it vibrating through her body, and suddenly his lips are on hers.

She gasps, mouth opening under his and allowing his tongue to sweep against hers. In spite of herself, River moans into him, hands flying to his shoulders to pull him closer, barely noticing his jacket slip from her shoulders. He’s not her husband, but he’s still the Doctor , and despite her mind’s protest, her body responds the same way it always does; a blush flushing her skin, heat building in her abdomen.

He kisses her desperately, hands digging into the fabric of her dress, and it’s only when his fingers brush against bare skin that River comes to her senses, pushing him away from her with a none too gentle, two handed shove.

“You die,” he says instantly, hands flying backwards to find balance on the grass behind him.

River blinks, the words tearing through her before she can even register what they mean. Her mind is foggy from whatever has just happened between them, her lips still burning from his touch.

“What?”

“Why do you think I made the decision I did, with Melody? I didn’t want to love you, River, and I certainly didn’t want you to die for me. This way, neither of us has to suffer for the mess I would have made of your life.”

“What...” she says again, the fog in her brain slowly lifting as the alternate Doctor’s words sink in.

“The first day he met you, is the day you die. Your entire relationship is built from death. Do you really think he could truly let himself love you when he knows you won’t have forever?”

**

The Doctor wakes suddenly to a sharp pain lancing through his temples. He jerks, rolling over and tumbling off the bed, dragging all the covers with him. He groans and shifts to lie on his back, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before rubbing his fingers roughly over his eyes.

When the haze of sleep fades, he sits up, ignoring the usual flash of panic that winds through his hearts when he notices River’s absence, and crawls his way over to the window. The sight in Amy’s back garden has him biting his the inside of his mouth hard enough to draw blood, watching his alternate self sit side by side with River, tweed jacket wrapped around her, both of them bathed in the light of the other TARDIS. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out some sort of psychic damage to his wife is what had woken him, and he fights the overwhelming need to rush outside and check she’s okay.

She’s River; okay or not, she’d never let him know it.

He watches them talk, a bud of anxiety finding root in his chest that only worsens when the other him glances up and locks eyes with his. He stares the alternate Doctor down, only backing away when River draws the other him’s attention once more.

The Doctor sighs, and moves from the window to pull on his trousers and shirt, doing up the buttons in a random order. With a glance towards the window, he sighs again, and leaves the bedroom, padding downstairs to the kitchen.

The house is silent, dark, but he somehow manages to find the tea cupboard without causing too much of a racket. Grabbing a TARDIS-blue mug and a teabag, he flips on the kettle and only just manages to stifle his scream of surprise when Amy suddenly appears beside him.

“Nervous, Raggedy Man?” she says with a smirk.

“Should I be?”

He glances at her, noticing she’s still wearing her pajamas, and adds the teabag and four heaped teaspoons of sugar to his mug.

“You tell me. What’s my Doctor doing out there with your wife?”

The Doctor swallows, grabbing the kettle as soon as the switch flicks off, and pours the boiling water into his mug. The teabag swirls to the top, and he stares at it, mind awash with too many incoherent thoughts.

“Better question, Amelia Pond: what are you doing down here so early in the morning?”

He can almost hear her knowing smile at his obvious deflection.

“Ever since Demon’s Run, I get nightmares,” she says with a shrug, grabbing a mug of her own down from the cupboard. “I wake up thinking I’m not real, that none of this is real, that it’s all going to fade away and I’ll be left without you, without Rory, without Melody.”

He stirs his tea absentmindedly, watching as Amy makes her own.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“I know. I…” she pauses, eyes flicking back out into the garden. “I’m glad my Doctor did what he did for my family. But I can see why you didn’t. You love her, don’t you?”

“More than anything,” he chokes out instantly, voice soft and barely audible.

His own admission surprises him, how easily the words tumbled from his lips, and if the raised eyebrows on Amy’s face mean anything, it surprises her too.

“Well...that’s good, considering she’s your wife and all. But you need to prove to her that you made the right choice.”

“Wha-”

“No, I may not know this you. But I know my Doctor. Something isn’t right between the two of you; I don’t know what it is, or what caused it, and I don’t need you to tell me. But if you really love her, you owe it to that woman to prove you don’t regret your marriage.”

The Doctor swallows thickly, all desire for his tea draining away in the wake of Amy’s words. His mouth opens, ready to spew some nonsensical reply, when the back door slams open and River bursts into the kitchen. Her red rimmed eyes glisten in the light shining in from the back porch, and the rare sight leaves him speechless. She shoves past him with barely a glance, ignoring Amy’s soft, confused shout of her name, and storms upstairs.

The Doctor’s jaw clenches, his eyes shifting slowly from the door River left through to the back garden. His gaze lands on his other self, a bright red handmark branding the man’s face, and the breath he releases reverberates in his throat like a growl.

“What did you do?” he hisses at his other self.

The alternate Doctor levels his gaze at him, stepping slowly into the kitchen.

“Making tea are we?” he says with an air of levity.

The Doctor’s teeth grind together, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. River has never needed him to fight her battles for her, but that doesn’t mean he’ll sit back and allow someone, allow another him , to hurt her without consequence.

“What did you do?” the Doctor repeats.

“Confirmed I did the right thing.”

He doesn’t remember moving, but suddenly the Doctor is stood in front of the other him, trying to tower over him even though they share the same height. Fury is burning in his veins, the sight of River’s tear filled eyes swimming in his blurry vision. Part of him vaguely registers Amy backing out of the kitchen, apparently not wanting to deal with two of him this early in the morning.

“She told me,” other him speaks first, a bitter smirk forming on his lips, “you lost her parents. Our Amelia. And Rory the Roman. Our Ponds. Did they die, Doctor? Did you watch them burn for you like all the rest?”

The Doctor flinches, the overwhelming pain at the loss of his Ponds welling back up inside his chest and threatening to spill as tears from his eyes.

“Your wife really is something, isn’t she? Beautiful, elegant. Some days, I regret the choice I made, when a word or a scent reminds me of what I gave up to save Melody. But then I remember, River dies as well. Like the rest of them. I still have my family, but all you have is ash.”

The Doctor’s throat burns, anger and heartbreak mixing together and threatening to tear him apart. He stares at his alternate self - wondering just how this world’s Doctor has become so cruel - when the anger drains away and he finds himself laughing instead. The surprise on the other man’s face only makes the laughter come harder, bubbling up inside him until he’s almost doubled over.

“Demon’s Run,” he manages to hiss out through the laughter. “You may remember River, but not properly. Here, she’s never existed, never lived to bring you down from your high horse and remind you of who you ought to be. You’re still the angry, lonely god, doing what it takes to get what he wants.”

The Doctor straightens, hand flying up to prod the other roughly Doctor in the chest.

“River Song has made me a better man. And that is why you made the wrong choice. Because the universe doesn’t need another Master.”

He smiles dangerously, finger sliding down the alternate Doctor’s shirt, and does what only River has managed to teach him. He walks away.

**

She doesn’t know where she’s going or what she’s doing, all she knows is she wants to be alone, away from everyone lest she lash out in her misery.

A long, long time ago she’d told her mother that dying doesn’t frighten her, not really. Everyone dies, regenerations or not, and in her line of work, River’s rather surprised she’s lasted as long as she has.

But to have confirmation that her husband will be there during her last breaths, that he’ll see her go and won’t even know her, it’s enough to ruin her completely. He’s known, he’s always known, and the dark part inside her, the small and broken little girl that just wants to be loved, has to wonder just what their marriage really means to him.

River bites back another sob, tears rolling down her cheeks without her permission, hand shoved over her mouth to hold back the sounds of her hearts breaking. She barely notices Rory appear from his and Amy’s bedroom, only managing to sidestep him at the last moment to avoid barrelling him over.

“River?” he says, voice flooding with concern as he takes in her distraught appearance. “What’s wrong?”

He sounds so much like her father had, back when she was Mels and just couldn’t take her life anymore, back when he had found her sobbing in Amy’s back garden, sitting beside her without a word until her tears had run dry. He’d eventually asked her what was wrong, but she’d just laughed, hugging him tightly in thanks and pulling him back inside the house.

The memory makes River’s tears come faster, and Rory’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise at her reaction before the calm facade of Nurse Williams takes over and he leads her into the guest room. Gently, he pushes her to sit on the edge of the rumpled bed and crouches down in front of her.

“What’s happened?”

“I...it’s nothing. I just…”

“River. This isn’t nothing.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she tries again.

“If it didn’t matter, you wouldn’t be crying.”

She focuses her gaze on the ceiling, trying to will her tears away, avoiding Rory’s calm and piercing stare. She jumps slightly when his hands cover hers against her lap.

“Which one of them?” he asks with a sigh.

Her eyes jerk back to his.

“My Doctor or yours? Or was it both of them?”

She stares at him, blinking, mouth dropping open slightly.

“Ah, both of them then. I’m sorry.”

Rory lets out a breath and stands, shifting to sit beside her on the bed, his shoulder pressing against hers. It’s as close to a hug as River can expect to receive and it has her already fragile emotions threatening to break again.

“I can’t imagine what it must be like to be married to him,” Rory mumbles next to her. “It was bad enough when I thought he and Amy…”

He sighs again, looking straight ahead at some generic arty canvas Amy had no doubt hung on the wall to make the guest room look more homey.

“But you’re my daughter, in your universe I mean. I love the Doctor, I do. He’s my wife’s best friend, and even though I know our lives would be simpler without him in it, I’d miss him if he just stopped appearing one day.” He pauses, brow furrowing as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “But marrying my kid? How the hell did I ever allow that to happen?”

Despite everything, River finds herself laughing at his words, a smile stretching across her face.

“It’s entirely too complicated to explain, but we were in an alternate timeline and you didn’t even know who Amy was, let alone me.”

He stares at her blankly for a moment before shaking his head and snorting a laugh through his nose.

“Right, okay, forget I asked.”

He leans into her, shoulder bumping against hers.

“This is…” nice. “Thank you, Rory.”

“Hey, what are dads for?”

He laughs at the joke, a friendly smile on his face, and River can’t help the sudden well of emotions bursting up through her chest. She chokes, trying to hold back the wave of tears, but it’s like trying to block a dam that’s already burst. Rory’s eyes widen in horror. His hands move up to comfort her, but instead hover awkwardly in the air, apparently unsure if she’d want to be touched.

“I’m sorry...what did I…?”

“I never even got to say goodbye to you,” River manages to gasp out, grabbing Rory before she can think not to, and pulling him into a tight embrace.

She buries her head against his neck, ignoring his spluttering as her hair gets in his face. His hands slowly press against her back, and River holds him even tighter because of it.

“River, what happened?” he whispers softly into her curls.

“One moment you were there, and the next…”

Another sob tears from her throat. She doesn’t understand where all the pain is coming from. It shouldn’t - it doesn’t matter; her parents were never really her mum and dad, as much as she’d wished for it when they were growing up in Leadworth. River’s lost friends before, and she knows it shouldn’t hurt like this. Not like her chest is on fire and she’ll never be able to breathe again.  

“I’m sorry, I thought you said your parents were…”

“I lied,” she mutters into his shoulder. “I do that almost as much as he does.”

Rory doesn’t respond, though his hands press more firmly against her back, holding her to him tightly. It’s with a dawning sense of horror that River realises she can’t remember the last time her father held her like this, though she’s certain he had to have done so at least once when she was Mels.

She feels the fabric of his nurse scrubs grow damp from her tears and it’s only then that she pulls back, sniffling inelegantly, and rubbing harshly at her eyes.  

“I’m sorr-”

“Don’t you dare apologise,” Rory interrupts, voice stern. His hands slide from her back to grab hers. “River, I’m the one who’s sorry. Sorry that you’ve had to go through this. Have you talked to the Doctor?”

She lets out a bitter breath of air, turning her head to the side to avoid Rory’s gaze.

“He’s grieving too,” she says softly.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t.”

She closes her eyes and swallows heavily. He can’t understand why she does what she does, why she protects the Doctor from her pain. The guilt her husband feels for her life - and she bites her tongue at the realisation that he harbours guilt for her death as well - doesn’t need to be burdened further.

“He looks at you like you’re his whole world, River. Like he can’t quite believe you’re here. You’re allowed to be emotional with him.”

He squeezes her hands, in comfort or to try and emphasise his words she isn’t sure, but River barely feels it anyway. Instead, all she can see is darkness.

She’s three years old, crying in a heap on the floor as Kovarian towers above her, flanked on either side by monsters.

“Emotions are for the weak, Melody,” she says, sounding almost bored.

She snaps her fingers and a nameless, faceless soldier drags Melody to her feet, holding her in place. Kovarian takes two steps forward, her heels clicking ominously against the floor, each sound sending a rush of fear through Melody’s hearts. She grabs Melody’s face, talon-like nails digging into her cheeks, sharp enough to draw blood.

“And you’ll never achieve anything by being weak.”

She’s seven years old, the gun gripped between her palms far too big for her child sized hands. The room is dark, as it always is, only the occasional flash of light illuminating her path. She’s so focussed on the sounds around her, so intent on staring at the darkness, searching for the monsters that are always there, she doesn’t notice the piping on the ground until it’s already too late.

Her feet slip out from beneath her, sending her crashing to the ground, gun skittering from her grasp to be swallowed by the blackness. A shadow appears behind her, it’s heavily booted foot pressing against her wrist and pinning her to the floor. She cries out, tears springing to her eyes as the boot twists against her skin.

There’s a knife hidden at her waist and she knows she could have it in the shadow’s calf, roll beneath him and have it in his neck, in under five seconds. But her hearts stutter in fear, the pain in her wrist radiating up her arm and settling in her shoulder. A tear slips free of her lashes and rolls down her cheek. It hits the dusty ground, and she can feel time pulse around her, before the room screams as lights burst from the ceiling. The shadow vanishes, like her shadows always do, leaving her alone and broken and scared.

“Break her other wrist as well,” the familiar, cold tones of the only parent she’s ever known flutter across to her. “Maybe next time she’ll keep the waterworks at bay.”

She’s River Song, Doctor of Archaeology, fresh and new and free, stood on a pyramid in broken time trying to tell the man she loves that his life is worth living. She was raised with only his death as her purpose, but she won’t allow destiny, or fate, or time to control her like the monsters of her childhood. Time burns in her mind, broken, fixed, still; it burns like the fury in his eyes as he stares at her in disbelief.

“Why do you have to be this?”

His words bite at her skin as sure as any bullet or knife.

“You embarrass me.”

She fails to do as she was taught, fails to hold back her tears, letting her tongue work on its own as she tells him she loves him. And in return he marries her, spiralling them back into reality; to a beach, to his death, to her imprisonment. Her punishment for loving the monster she was made to kill.

The memories fade, leaving an uncomfortable emptiness in her chest. Kovarian’s voice rings in her ears, as sharp as it’s always been in her nightmares, mingling with the deeper tones of her husband’s. The discomfort shoots through River like an electric shock, and she bites back her gasp, eyes snapping open to stare down blankly at her hands, still entwined with Rory’s larger ones.

“The Doctor needs someone strong,” she finds herself saying out loud, gaze shifting to focus on the carpet beneath them as the words slip from her mouth. “Someone he can rely on. Not a frightened young girl begging him to save himself.”

“River…?”

She ignores his confusion, ignores that this Rory has never stood atop a pyramid whilst the universe crumbled around them. Instead, she turns to face him, eyes still avoiding his.

“You know almost better than anyone, Rory, what he can be like; the lonely god ruining lives because he just doesn’t think. ” He nods, opening his mouth to reply, but River doesn’t give him the chance. “And the more his hearts are tested, the more I worry. He’s lost so much, that one day nothing will stop the lonely god from turning everything to ash, rising from the flames to do whatever he pleases. And if I can do my part to prolong the inevitable…”

“You’ll hide your pain from him for as long as it takes?” he asks.

She nods, raw throat burning as she swallows with a dry mouth.

“River that’s not healthy. You deserve better than that.”

She smiles softly, knowing he’s right but seeing no other way. Her hands pull out from under his to brush away the newly formed tears clinging to her lashes.

“I may have ruined your scrubs,” she says, forcing cheeriness into her tone, throat scratching on the words.

Rory hums disapprovingly, raising an eyebrow at her sudden change in topic, but otherwise remaining silent. Instead, he shifts, contorting his body to take in the mess staining his shoulder.

“Trust me, I’ve had worse.”

“I know.”

They share a smile, Rory’s hand shifting to her knee and squeezing gently.

“I’m sorry I never got to know you, River. But I know the other me wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from loving you. Weird timelines or not. You’re an amazing woman and I’d be proud to have you as my daughter.”

She smiles, a lightness appearing in her chest, Rory’s words somewhat helping to mend her shattered hearts.

“Thank you, Rory. That...means a lot.”

“Any time. And it-” His eyes widen comically as he looks over her shoulder. “And I’ve got twenty minutes to grab a coffee and get to work.”

He jumps off the bed, a familiar look of panic in his eyes that has a smile tugging at River’s mouth, and rushes out into the hall. He stops just before he disappears out of sight, turning back to face her sheepishly, his expression softening.  

“Are you going to be okay?” he asks.

She looks up at the arty canvas on the wall, a little sailing boat struggling to stay afloat on a stormy sea.  

“I hope so,” she says, the only words she can find to reply with.

--

She’s not sure how long it takes for her to pull herself together and pad across the hall to the bathroom, but she eventually finds herself stood under a torrent of hot water. The temperature is turned up to max, and River sighs, shoulders relaxing as the heat seeps into her skin, warming the chill from her bones.  

She washes her hair slowly, lamenting the lack of her usual hair products even knowing she’s dealt with far worse amenities in the past. Combing Amy’s conditioner through her hair with her fingers, the smell that’s always accompanied her mother washes over her, the strawberry scent setting something heavy in her chest. The pain is still there, sharp and raw against her insides, but where before it was clawing at her, shredding her anew, now it feels encased in cotton, softened in the wake of Rory’s words.

The water raining down on her feels like a curtain shielding her from the the outside world, a barrier holding back the flood of emotions ready to tear her hearts in two. It’s with a sense of morbid irony she realises she’s finding refuge and safety within the confines of water, when so long ago it was almost her tomb.

Slowly, she finishes washing away the remnants of her tears from her face, before switching off the shower and wringing the water from her curls. She pulls down the towel she’d hung over the shower door and wraps it tightly around herself, stepping out the shower only to find Amy waiting for her, a pile of clothes in her arms.

River’s mouth drops open in surprise and she holds the towel tighter against her chest, staring awkwardly at the woman who should be her best friend and mother, but - in this reality - isn’t.

Amy rolls her eyes fondly, holding out the clothes - a jumper and a pair of jeans - to River with a smile.

“You’re my daughter, River. Maybe not exactly in this universe, but it still counts somewhere. Didn’t think you’d mind me bringing you a fresh set of clothes.”

She moves to place the clothes next to the sink, and River can’t help but study her, eyes dragging over the other woman’s form, pinpointing every blemish, every scar, that’s out of place. She swallows back the wave of emotion threatening to clog her throat as she notices the lack of broken pink skin just above Amy’s collar bone: another reminder that this Amy isn’t hers, this Amy had never taken a hit meant for Mels after they’d angered a group of boys on the playground.

“They’re from the TARDIS, my Doctor’s TARDIS,” Amy says, snapping River back to the present. “You can keep them, I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“Thank you,” she replies, a surprising ball of disappointment forming in her stomach.

Because Amy caring for her, for no other reason than she wants to - no obligations, no requirements just because they share blood - sends River reeling back to the graveyard in Manhattan: to the angel, and her mother’s wavering voice.

Melody. You look after him. And you be a good girl, and you look after him.

Her mother’s final words to her, not a goodbye, not a sorry, but a request to keep their lonely old god from breaking further. It’s not without a heavy heart, guilt settling uncomfortably in her gut, that River realises having Melody has made Amy more of a mother towards her than her own mother ever had the chance to be.

“Where’d the name Melody come from?” she asks suddenly, willing her thoughts away from the past. “You named me after your best friend, but that’s...different in this timeline.”

“The Doctor suggested it.”

“Of course he did.”

River’s surprised to find no anger bubbling to the surface, only a soft sense of melancholy wrapping round her hearts. She shoots Amy a forced smile, moving forward to lay a hand gently on the folded jumper.

“River…” Amy says softly, voice hesitant. “Listen, I- River, I don’t know what’s happened between you and your Amy-”

“Amy-”

“No, I can tell there’s something. It’s the same something that has your Doctor in a state. But what I do know, is that even though she didn’t get to raise you, she loves you, just as much as I love Melody: even if she hasn’t really had the chance to show you.”

River’s eyes fix on the clothes beneath her palm, avoiding Amy’s piercing stare. Her mother has always been able to see straight through her, as Mels, as River, and even now.

“What if she never gets that chance,” River whispers, so quietly she’s not even sure she’s spoken aloud until she hears Amy’s sharp inhale beside her.

“Oh, River. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It doesn’t m-”

“Of course it matters. She was your mum, even if your relationship wasn’t exactly the norm. She loved you, River. For you.”

“How d-”

“Please, just trust me. I know. I loved Melody the moment she was born, and I’d love her no matter what happened. And yes, it’s easier to say that because nothing did happen, but please, I get the feeling it’s difficult not to love you.”

She’s four years old, a torn and tattered romance novel clutched in her hands. It belongs to one of the Order’s soldiers, a scary woman that acts like Melody doesn’t even exist. She’d stolen it from the woman’s locker, the book well-read if not well cared for, and Melody is half way through reading it when Kovarian catches her.

“Oh, my baby,” Kovarian coos, laughing as she rips the book from her hands. “No one will ever love you. You’re unlovable, Melody. You exist for one purpose and one purpose only.”

“To kill the Doctah?” she replies automatically.

“To kill the Doctor.”

“I’m sorry you lost her,” Amy continues, her voice ripping River out of the nightmares of her past. “But don’t ever do her the diservice of believing she didn’t love you fiercely.”

She offers River a soft, comforting smile, and River replies in kind, still feeling like a child under Amy’s motherly gaze.

“Okay?” Amy prompts, and River nods, offering a throaty, “thank you,” in reply.

Amy gives her one more glance, pity and sympathy and understanding merging together on her face, before turning to leave. The bathroom door clicks shut gently behind her, leaving River alone once more.

She swallows: mind and heart battling inside her as she forces herself to come to terms with her grief. River had never expected her parents to love her; she’d wanted them to, needed them to, but she was so ingrained in the belief that she couldn’t be loved, she hadn’t truly believed they ever could.

Every Christmas, two extra placemats at the dining table: one for the Doctor, and one for her. Every adventure ending with them begging her to “please stay for just one more trip.” Birthdays spent in the TARDIS, watching movies or playing games, before the Doctor would whisk her away on a date for just the two of them.

Slowly, River lets herself see that her parents did love her, had thought of her as their family, as much as they could, considering the circumstances of their relationship.

River smiles shakily and reaches for the sink, turning on the tap and splashing a handful water on her face. She sighs, straightening up and rolling her shoulders. She dries herself off quickly, pulling on the jeans and jumper before running the towel over her hair; not the best way to style her curls, but she doesn’t have the time or effort to bother with her usual routine.

Taking a deep breath, she steels herself for seeing her husband again, their relationship still shattering in the wake of what transpired in New York. She leaves the bathroom, dropping her dress off in the guest room on the way past, and makes her way downstairs.

She walks into the living room to find the Doctor, fully clothed in his usual tweed, sat on the sofa, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. She bites her cheek and inhales sharply as she makes her presence known.

“The TARDIS isn’t going to fix herself,” she says, forcing an air of cheeriness she certainly doesn’t feel into her words. “Well, she might, but she’ll never forgive you for it.”

He jumps at the sound of her voice, head snapping round instantly to face her.

“River...are you…”

“You coming then?” she interrupts, ignoring the look that flashes across his face at her dismissal and striding through the kitchen into the back garden.

She feels him join her, that slight raise in temperature that only ever happens when he’s near. He keeps his distance, but she can sense him probing gently at her mind with his. River frowns, pushing back gently and strengthening her usual mental shields as a precaution.

The TARDIS looks shinier in the bright morning light, meaning the Old Girl has indeed been repairing herself overnight. This time, her doors swing open welcomingly at River’s touch, and the two of them step inside to be met with a shocking amount of silver.

“She’s redecorated?” River gasps.

“Apparently so…”

The golds and oranges of the previous desktops have vanished to be replaced with hard lines of silver and chrome, stretching up the time rotor to meet rows of Circular Gallifreyan which twist and turn above them.

“Bit gloomy isn’t it?” she murmurs, feeling the TARDIS hum sadly in the back of her mind as she steps up to the console.

“I guess she misses them too,” the Doctor whispers, eyes fixed on the Circular Gallifreyan symbols that represent her parents’ names.

River slides her hands over the newer, flatter console, watching the Doctor as he circles the room slowly. There are fewer stairs into the deeper parts of the TARDIS now, and the jumper seat is gone, replaced by a number of grey chairs pinned to the railings. It feels less like home, darker, sadder; it makes River’s insides churn uncomfortably.

“I don’t like it,” she says, ignoring the TARDIS’ annoyed buzzing against her temples.

He hums thoughtfully in reply, twisting round to grab one of the new scanners. River rests her hip against the console, keeping her eyes trained on the Doctor as he searches through the data on the screen, her finger drawing random patterns between the controls. Almost all her memories of her parents are connected to the previous desktop, and now even the TARDIS is letting the Ponds go. She closes her eyes, letting the Old Girl’s apologetic comfort wash over her.

“It looks like crashing through the mess of timelines in New York, and the subsequent paradox, messed with her ability to calculate the correct trajectory through the vortex,” the Doctor mutters aloud, and River’s eyes open slowly as she sighs.

“So, how do we get back to our own universe?”

“Pretty easily. She wants to get back there as much as we do. We just need a boost in power.”

“And how are we going to do that?”

He bites his lip, looking at something on the scanner, and River forces her eyes away from the sight.

“We’ll have to siphon some power from his TARDIS. Enough to boost us back to our universe, whilst leaving him enough to make it to Cardiff for a refuel on the rift.”

River sighs again before shifting off the console and moving to the stairs that lead to the wiring beneath the main platform.

“So we’ll have to rewire all the power couplings to accept power from an outside source?” she asks, descending the stairs two at a time.

He hums again in confirmation, sliding round the console and jumping down the stairs to join her. She doesn’t miss the way his hand jerks beside her hip, pulling away from his constant need to touch her, and the sudden longing for how their relationship had been before Manhattan burns in her chest.

**

Not for the first time, the Doctor wishes his wife wasn’t quite as Time Lord as she is. Her strength, and general lack of breakable-ness - two things that don’t come with the humans he’s so fond of surrounding himself with - are an obvious relief whenever she flings herself off something high, or twirls into battle with nothing but her gun and her wits. And he can’t help but admit her respiratory bypass is incredibly useful whenever he just can’t bring himself to stop kissing her.

But, no, the real issue is her mind.

The Doctor tries not to use telepathy often, humans apparently finding it a gross invasion of privacy, but whenever companions are truly upset and refusing to tell him why, it always comes in handy. Except with River.

They share a deeper mental connection than anything he could ever have with a human, but unlike his companions, River can throw up walls and block him out without even trying; which is good when he considers how their secrets could rip a hole in space-time, but it becomes rather frustrating when he just wants to see how she’s doing.

“You could always just ask me, sweetie,” she says, small smirk tugging at her lips.

The Doctor starts, a heated blush finding its way up his neck and onto his cheeks when he realises he's practically been broadcasting his thoughts to her.

“You wouldn’t tell me, even if I did,” he mumbles.

“No, but I’m less likely to hurt you for trying to pry.”

He pouts, eyes focusing back on the wires in his hand. They’re trying to reroute the TARDIS’ power couplings in such a way that when they siphon power from the other TARDIS it won’t end with the universe blowing apart. Again. But it seems the two of them have different ideas when it comes to doing so, River’s connection with his ship no doubt making her the one in the right, but as always, he’s loath to admit it.

The couplings spark, the Old Girl groaning in his thoughts, and River hisses beside him, dropping the wires she’d been holding.

“Doctor, can you concentrate please?” she says, eyes still avoiding looking at him as she picks up the dropped wires.

She inhales sharply through her teeth, biting back a curse, and the Doctor’s eyes snap from River’s face to see the quickly reddening skin of her hands. He practically jumps from the repair swing, shoving his goggles off his head with one hand, and reaching for River with the other.

She flinches from his touch and the Doctor bites his tongue, letting his goggles clatter to the floor and taking a slower step towards her.

“River, don’t be daft.”

She doesn’t reply, but he can see her jaw shift, nostrils flaring as she tries to reel in her emotions. He takes her hands gently in his, wincing at the raw flesh on display, and before she can realise what he’s doing, regeneration energy lines his palms. The second she notices, he tightens his hold, fingers splaying down to wrap round her wrists to keep her in place. She’s too tired to snap at him like she did in New York, but he can see her anger displayed clearly in the lines of her face.

“Do you know why I healed your wrist in Manhattan, River?” he says gently, smoothing his hands back over her freshly healed skin.

“My best guess is you felt guilty about your wife breaking bones to try and placate you.”

He winces, because she’s not entirely wrong.

“Well, yes. But the TARDIS was right there. I still have nanogenes in the medbay. Why do you think I used my regeneration energy?”

“Because you’re an idiot and weren’t thinking?”

He winces again. Throughout the universe he’s known for his words, for winning wars with speeches instead of guns, and yet here he stands, failing to make his wife understand just how much he cares.

“River…”

“Doctor, please. Just stop this.”

She rips her hands from his, rubbing them together as if she’s washing away the feel of him.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says, voice a resigned whisper.

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true.”

“Is it?”

His head snaps up, eyes finding hers. He searches her face, looking for any sign that she’s teasing him, because surely she knows. Knows how much she means to him, how much better she is than him, how much better his is because of her.

“Doctor, I’ve seen how the other you, this world’s you, behaves. He’s happier, less dragged down. He has Amy and Rory, Melody is happy, he doesn’t have all that extra guilt being with me has brought you. Sometimes I wonder if our lives would have been better if you’d gotten them their baby back...that we’d both be happier without each other.”

“River…” his voice cracks on her name, lungs burning as he forgets to breathe. Her words bury themselves in his chest as surely as a knife, cutting between his hearts and bringing every worry he’s ever had about their life together rushing to the surface. “River, I-”

“I know how I die,” she snaps out, eyes shifting to focus on a point behind him.

“What?”

“He told me, when you first met me, I died for you.”

He swallows, forcing his mind to stay in the here and now, where River is alive, and furious, standing straight in front of him, her eyes ablaze. Because if he lets himself remember her in the Library, body charred and burnt, her love for him being the one thing to finally extinguish the indestructible fire of River Song, he’ll shatter completely.

“He had no right,” he growls, throat tightening around the words.

“No, he didn’t,” she agrees as she takes a tentative step towards him. “But this explains so, so much, my love. Your guilt really is something.”

Her hand falls onto his chest, directly between his hearts.

“I don’t need our marriage to be born from that. Rewrite time, save Melody. Save my parents.”

His hearts clench so tightly in his chest at the thought of River believing he only married her out of obligation, that he half expects the golden glow of regeneration to begin lining his skin. He steps even closer to her, mouth dropping open in a silent cry when River smiles sadly and backs away from his advance, hand slipping from his chest and leaving ice in its wake.

“Tell me,” he chokes. “Tell me you’d be happier as Melody. And I’ll do it, River. I’ll give you up if it means you’ll be happy.”

It would kill him to do so, he knows, but he’ll do it if she asks. He’s been far too selfish with her for far too long, and if this is what it comes down to, if this is what she really needs to find peace, he’ll erase it all.

“It’s not about giving me up, Doctor. It’s about you, being guilt free, being happier. Happier without me. You could have Amy and Rory back.”

“I don’t want Amy and Rory!” he snaps at her, tears burning his eyes as his hand flies up to frustratedly push his hair away from his face. River gasps, at his words or at the rawness of his voice, he isn’t sure. “I never asked for this, never wanted this.”

He takes another step towards her and this time she holds her place, glistening eyes staring up at him, jaw tight, waiting for the final blow to do her in.

“You blazed into my life, with a smirk and a ‘hello sweetie’. And I wanted to hate you. For being my future, for knowing more about me than I thought you ever had any right to. For dying .”

His voice breaks, his eyes blurry with his tears. He takes another step, shaking hands moving up to frame her face, thumbs brushing softly over her cheeks. Her mouth parts, eyes still locked with his, paused and still, waiting for his words to save or ruin her.  

“Do you know how hard it was? Falling in love with you when I knew we wouldn’t have forever?”

Her body shudders as she releases a shaky breath at his admission and he can’t help but think of all the wasted time, how hard his younger self had tried to avoid her. River was part Time Lord; and in a fairer universe, they could have had millenia together, side by side throughout all their regenerations.

“But no matter how hard I tried to hate you, I couldn’t. River, you’re everything to me. Losing your parents hurt, will always hurt, so damn much. Because they were my family too, my Ponds. But losing you , River....”

His fingers flutter against her neck, thumbs pressing harder against her cheek bones as he wills her to understand.

“You could grow up with Amy and Rory, properly, get married normally, have…” he chokes. “Have children, River. We can’t have a normal life, that life, not with our timelines.”

“Sweetie, I’ve never cared about that,” she breathes out, and he knows she’s lying, knows she’s dreamt of the impossible, dreamt of a linear marriage and their children sleeping in his cot. “I want the life I have, my life with you .”

He ignores her, ignores the lies meant to placate him, stuck in his own crusade of trying to make her see: that he’ll do whatever it takes for her to be happy with her life, happy with or without him.

“I can’t lose you. But I will, if that’s what you want. I’ll erase everything. If it’ll make you happy.”

“Doctor, I chose this, I chose you.” A tear slips from her lashes, sliding down her cheek and rolling wetly over his thumb. Her hands curl into the bottom of his jacket, tugging him even closer as a sigh falls from her lips. “And I’ll always choose you, always and completely.”

“Time can be rewritten,” he says in reply, knowing her memory of the words is taking her to a much different place than his; a warm beach instead of a shadowed library. His head quirks slightly, fingers pressing harder against the base of her skull, and he can feel her hearts beating in the pulse beneath his fingertips, steady, strong, alive.

River’s lips twitch, a soft breath of air escaping her as she laughs, body leaning into his in a way she never had the chance to on that beach almost a lifetime ago.

“Don’t you dare,” she growls back, but the smile forming on her face betrays her, eyes shining with barely restrained emotions.

He feels her throat move as she swallows, how a muscle in her jaw twitches. Her mouth parts to draw a deeper breath and the Doctor surges forward before his mind catches up with his body, the hands gripping the sides of her face tightening and pulling River towards him. His mouth crashes roughly against hers, tongue slipping between her lips easily, and River groans, her tongue fighting back against him, teeth dragging over his lips.

It’s messy, forceful, the Doctor pouring all of his emotions into her and River drinking it all down in return. He wants to kiss her slowly, passionately, show her just how much she means to him, but all he can see is her, alive and beautiful beneath his hands.

His face feels damp with tears but he can’t tell who they belong to, and it’s far too late for him to stop; he can’t. His hearts have been torn open, he’s raw and bleeding, and River’s the only cure.

He backs her into the lower portion of the console, shifting her up and letting one of her legs wrap around his hips. He lets out a stuttered groan when she presses against him, heat burning through his insides as she tears her mouth from his and throws back her head to let out a breathy cry.

One hand slides behind her neck, burying itself in her hair, fingers clenching tightly against the back of her skull. She gasps, hips jerking against his and causing them both to moan deeply.

“River,” he sighs, burying his head into her neck, sucking against her skin and grazing his teeth harshly over her throat.

His other hand slides down her body, thumb brushing over her breast and causing him to groan when he realises she’s not wearing a bra beneath her jumper. His hand curls around her ribs, fingers digging into her back and holding her tighter against him.

He scrapes his teeth under her jaw and River’s hands fly up to his head, holding him against her whilst his hand dips down further to press against her hip, pushing her against the TARDIS panelling. She arches against him, her jumper riding up to let his fingers stroke against bare skin, and without warning he grabs the hem and tugs, pulling it up and over her head.

The Doctor makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat as River’s torso is bared to him, hands stuttering against her skin. He dips his head, lips pressing into the curve of her shoulder, fingers running up her sides and moulding around her ribcage. River gasps his name into his hair, tilting her neck to the side to grant his mouth better access. He kisses a path over her skin, sucking and nipping his way past her collarbone before pushing her even harder into the TARDIS panelling. He licks a strip between her breasts and River arches up into him, her hands burying themselves in his hair and holding his face against her. He turns his head to the side, teeth grazing lightly over the swell of her breast.

He shifts, dropping to his knees to press a tender and reverent kiss to her stomach, trailing his mouth lightly over her skin before biting gently at her hip bone. River’s hands tighten where they’re still gripped in his hair, and he feels her shiver as he presses his mouth to the skin below her navel.

His hands grip the back of her thighs, tongue swirling across the strip of her waist, painting words of Circular and High Gallifreyan into her skin. He wants to worship her, love her, prove to her what she means to him; he wants to show her properly, slowly, all the ways he can make her fall apart beneath him. But there’ll be time for that later, when they’re home in their universe, the TARDIS safe in the vortex; he’ll make sure of it. Right now, he needs her, needs to mould his body with hers until he can’t feel where he ends and she begins.

The Doctor pulls back, standing up and shrugging out of his jacket, letting go of River to let it drop to the floor. Her hands are back on him instantly, needy, shoving his braces off his shoulders and ripping open his shirt, the buttons scattering across the floor. With quick and nimble hands, long used to the action, she undoes his bowtie, wrapping it around her wrist quickly before shoving her mouth back against his, hands sliding behind his neck. He pushes back, teeth clashing almost painfully against hers, one hand flying up to her hip, gripping so tightly he knows she’ll bruise.

His other hand slips down her body, dipping past the waistband of her jeans, and the Doctor groans when he’s met with nothing but River.

“Do I want to know why you’re not wearing any underwear at all?” he hisses into her mouth.

She smirks, arching up into him with a breathy gasp as he dips his fingers lower. The hand wrapped in his bow tie slides down his neck to curl against his chest, her nails scraping across his skin.

“A girl has to keep some secrets,” she purrs in his ear, jerking her hips against his hand to take his fingers deeper.

The Doctor bites back a curse, sinking his teeth into her shoulder instead. River lets out a whine, forehead pressing into his temple. Her thoughts flutter against the barriers of his mind, and he curls his fingers inside her, groaning when her mental shields stutter under his actions.

Ignoring her quite angry moan of protest, he pulls his hand from her jeans and practically tears the offending clothing off her. River assists him, kicking the jeans down her legs before pulling him back to her. She slants her lips back across his, sucking his lower lip into her mouth, her fingers working on the buttons and zip of his own trousers.

“Sweetie, you are far too dressed,” she mumbles against him.

He grabs her hands with his, pulling them away from his trousers and bringing them gently to his mouth. He kisses her palms softly, smiling against her skin when River gasps. Letting go of her hands, the Doctor shrugs his shirt off before toeing off his shoes and ridding himself of the rest of his clothing.

“Bedroom?” he asks, moving back into her personal space to press a soft kiss to the underside of her jaw.

“It’s a bit too late for that, don’t you think?” she laughs in reply, hands dancing lightly over his arms as she moulds her body against his.

“The floor will be cold.”

“I’m sure you can think of a way to keep me warm, honey.”

She smirks, and the Doctor remembers a second too late that his wife is a very capable, very well-trained assassin. He lands on his back, failing to suppress a shiver as the cold TARDIS floor presses against his skin, and groans as River lands on top of him, her thighs pressing deliciously against his hips. She leans forwards to press her mouth back against his, and the Doctor’s hands move of their own accord, fingers molding over the curve of her bottom and thumbs pressing hard into her hip bones.

She hums sinfully against his lips, the only warning he has before she cants her hips back and sinks down onto him. He gasps, the sound coming out more like a whimper, and digs his fingers into her skin, holding her briefly in place.

She leans back, the movement taking him deeper, and causing them both to groan: River’s deep and throaty, the Doctor’s soft and bereft of breath. Her eyes fall shut, her body stretched out above him, and the Doctor feels his mouth go dry, eyes unable to decide which inch of her golden skin to focus on.

For the first time ever in their complicated, timey-wimey relationship, he opens his mind completely to her, spoilers and all. He knows that, unlike him, she’s far less likely to go digging for anything that could break time, but he needs her to see, to feel, to know , everything she is to him. She gasps, fingers curling at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Her eyes snap open, seeking out his.

Her mental barriers lower, and the Doctor is hit with a wave of emotion so strong, so unrestrained, that tears well up in his eyes once again. He grabs her face between his hands, waiting for her to steady herself with her own hands on his chest, and pushes his forehead hard against hers. River whines in the back of her throat, eyes fluttering shut once more at the wave of emotion he sends her, her hips snapping faster against his.

The Doctor bites back a groan, focussing his mind. He’s never shown her this before, never felt the need to, never thought it mattered. But he’d been so wrong, so stupid, so blinded by avoiding fate.

Time slows around them, everything fading away till all he can feel is River, alive and warm, and his, held lovingly in his arms. Slowly, sensations prick at his skin, the landscape folding around them until they’re surrounded by fields of red grass, silver trees framing the horizon.

“Open your eyes, wife,” he breathes out, thumbs stroking reverently over her cheekbones.

She does as he asks, tear lined eyes opening and widening at the sight before her. She understands instantly, because she’s River: smart and beautiful and oh so quick. But he still feels the need to explain, hands sliding down over her shoulders to grip at her hips.

“Gallifrey,” he says softly, their escape from the world far too serene for him to speak in anything louder than a whisper. “Or at least, how I remember it.”

“It’s beautiful,” River replies, eyes taking in the planet that’s technically her homeworld too.

The sunlight around them reflects off the silver trees, setting the air around them ablaze with colour. River’s skin glows above him, her golden tones blending with the deep red hues of the Gallifreyan suns high in the sky. She’s always been beautiful, but backed by a Gallifreyan horizon as she shifts her hips above his, he comes to the startling realisation that no matter how long he lives, nothing could ever compare to this.

She whispers his name, his real Gallifreyan name, against his mind. And somehow it sounds better coming from her thoughts, surrounded by his planet, than it ever has whispered from her tongue. Her mind curls around the word, protecting it even now, and he holds her all the closer because of it.

She screams when she comes, her voice echoing through the mindscape. He follows her over the edge seconds later, fingers branding her skin as his hands grip tightly at her hips. His eyes blur, the Gallifreyan meadow shifting around them, and when his vision clears he finds River smiling down at him, her face damp with tears.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes without thinking, hand sliding up her side to curl round her neck and pull her down to him.

He kisses her slowly, mouth moving gently over hers, savouring her, committing the feel of her to memory, as if he doesn’t already know every inch of her body more intimately than his own. She hums softly against his lips, hands sliding down to his waist and slipping off him to curl into his side.

For a while, there’s nothing but the contented sounds of their breathing, River pressed against him, skin to skin. He almost thinks she’s slipped into a blissful sleep when her head shifts on his shoulder, mouth pressing against his throat.

“I don’t want to die without you,” she eventually mumbles sleepily into his neck.

He tightens his grip on her, fingers pressing possessively into her skin, and turns his head to lay a kiss gently against her brow.

“You’re not going to die at all,” he says softly, promising himself as much as he is her. “We’ll think of something, okay? Together.”

She nods, her hair tickling his neck and face as she moves. He turns back to stare up at the underneath of the console, mind humming pleasantly in the aftermath of their mental connection. He can almost hear the TARDIS through her sometimes, and it fills his hearts with hope. Hope for their future: together.

“Are we gonna be okay, River?” he whispers into the air above him.

There’s a beat of silence, and River shifts, tilting his face to the side to look at her. She smiles, a real, happy smile full of teeth, the dim light of the new desktop bouncing off her bright eyes. His lips curl up in a smile of his own, happy in the knowledge that she’s finally no longer hiding the damage from him.

“Yeah, sweetie. I think we are.”