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Chapter Text

It had to be the quietest night she’d know, probably the quietest they’d ever share. The tower’s song grazed her ear and pulled her to follow their melody, her blond curls lingered in the light of the dimming sun. Her brown roots blended so sweetly with the light, shining, glowing almost as much as her. And it wasn’t much of a smile that gleamed on her face, but rather astonishment, to both the sight and the expression etched on his as she turned with fading glee.

The towers sang, and he cried. 

It wasn’t the extravagant view, or the wistful melody that’d haunted him for centuries, and it certainly wasn’t the wind.

“Why are you sad?” Rule 1: The Doctor lies. Because he has to, because if he doesn’t, then only god knows what horrors he’ll release into the world. He spreads so many rumours in his mind telling him he needs to lie and hide, especially when it’d mean revealing his true feelings. So she could never truly question him. But when she did, when she had no choice but to, she could only beg for his answer.

“Why are you sad?” He repeated. He did that. When he couldn’t answer, when he wouldn’t answer, he asked. 

“I told you, my diary's nearly full… I worry.”

“Please don't.”

Silence emerged in the tension as he turned and watched the towers. Bad silence, lonely silence. 

River sighed, “There are stories about us, you know.”

“Oh, I dread to think.”

“I look them up sometimes.”

“You really shouldn't do that.” He let her do all the talking, listening as her words broke almost as much as his hearts.

“Some of them suggest that…” her silence lasted a lifetime, “the very last night we spend together is at the Singing Towers of Darillium. That wouldn't be true, would it?”

“Spoilers.”  She hated that word.

The Doctor always hated just how well she knew him. No one knows him, he doesn't know himself. But River could read him with just a glimpse into his eyes. 

She let out a gasp for air, holding back every wave of emotion she had kept away from him for all those years. 

But it’s not true. It can’t be true.   Was she lying to herself or was he lying to her? 

“Well, that would explain why you kept cancelling coming here.” Humour, that’ll do it. “Do you remember that time —”

“River, stop.”

“when there were two of you…”

“Don't.”

“…because I want you to know that if this is the last night,” 

Don’t say it , he thought. 

“I expect you to find a way around it.” 

Damn it.

“Not everything can be avoided, River. Not forever.” Everything must end, the saddest words in the universe.

“But you're you . There's always a loophole, you wait until the last minute and then you spring it on me.” She kept trying to smile but her delicate cheeks kept betraying her, continuing to crack under her words.

“Every night is the last night for something, every Christmas is the last Christmas,”

“But you will!” She couldn’t bear it, her words tugged on his heartstrings like she’d pulled him by his tie, like she’d slapped him across the face with resentment in her palm and loss in her eyes, “You'll wait until I've given up hope, all will be lost, and you'll do that smug little smile and then you'll save the day, you always do .” 

“No, I don't. Not always. Times end, River, because they have to . Because there's no such thing as happy ever after. It's just a lie we tell ourselves because the truth is so hard.”

“No, Doctor,” That was the thing about River, “you're wrong.” 

No matter what happened, no matter who was dying, no matter who she was, no matter who he was – She was always there to snap him into reality. It truly is a skill. To correct a god. To make a god cry. To make a good love .

“Happy ever after doesn't mean forever. It just means time. .. a little time. But that's not the sort of thing you could ever understand, is it?”

His chest stung as he clenched the balcony's bar, so he avoided her and her words.

“What do you think of the towers?”

“I love them.” This was never about the towers. It was never about Darillium. It was never about the suit, or the haircut, or the stupid screwdriver.

“Then why are you ignoring them?”

“They're ignoring me. But then, you can't expect a monolith to love you back.”

“No, you can't.” 

Because, River, a monolith can’t love.

“They've been there for millions of years, through storms and floods and wars and... time.” 

It can’t allow itself to love .

“Nobody really understands where the music comes from. It's probably something to do with the precise positions, the distance between both towers.”

Not when it will be there forever, and all the rest will be gone.

“Even the locals aren't sure. All anyone will ever tell you is that when the wind stands fair and the night is perfect, when you least expect it. But always, when you need it the most,” 

The wind had caught up, haunting him since the library. Thousands of years of running away all culminated into this night. 

“There is a song.” It was the universe’s cruellest joke, coincidence, or rather, fate. When things work out just perfectly, it feels so wrong. Like when the night is quiet and bright with stars in a bustling city, or when it snows on Christmas day but the streets are barren with people or footprints. Like when he needed her the most and she’d somehow be there. Or when the night was perfect and he’d be at the door. And when either of them least expected it, they’d be out of paper and their story would set.

“ So, assuming tonight is all we have left…”

“ I didn't say that.” 

She let out a shallow breath. “How long... is a night on Darillium?

And then, just as she’d given up hope, he made his smug little smile and saved the day, like always. The Doctor leaned down, glancing at the towers, then smiling at the sight of his bride. It felt so cruel yet so right.

“24 years.”

There was something so evil yet so lovely about his words. She wasn’t certain if she wanted to kill him or kiss him.

River gasped, turning into a chuckle as she cried, “I hate you.”

“No, you don't.”

It was the most beautiful of feelings, really. The warmest of emotions, like the smell of freshly poured tea with two sugars on a bright spring afternoon as the light from the sun hugs your skin after a long winter. Like the tightest of hugs despite only having one hand on her face, the other still on the railing but inching closer with his body as he closed the space between them and found his fingers on her back. And when she looked in his eyes, it was like magic.

And how can you be expected to eat dinner after witnessing magic?

She’d noticed the table when they’d entered, but not how small, yet grand, it was. She only saw the small round table was covered by a white cloth, not it’s lavish napkins, embroidered with green and golden stars, the assortment of rose petals and candles, the glass cloches and plates filled with all the dishes she’d mentioned over the years but was certain he’d forgotten, or the bottle of wine and gold-rimmed glasses not unlike the ones her mum used to take out only for Christmas and her anniversary. Still, it wasn’t anything big. Cozy would be a better word.  

The lighting was mesmerising, the reflection of the candles on the glass shone in River’s green eyes, the specks of gold radiating in her bright grin and pink covered cheeks. The Doctor wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder and feeling her breathing as he revelled in love.

“Do you like it?” He asked, River still watching the display of lights and food dance with the sun.

She dropped her eyes on him, sharing a soft smile of delight and chuckled, “I’ve seen better.” The Doctor raised his eyebrows in amusement and lifted his head to place a sweet kiss on her cheek before showing her to her seat. It was so quiet, the perfect quiet, just four hearts and a candlelit dinner with the best view in the galaxy.

“I’m hoping this is still your favourite bottle?” He opened the rouge Coralee wine, savouring the fizzle from when he popped the cork, and poured it in her glass before doing the same with his.

“You drink now?” River asked before dipping her finger in and tasting it.

“Well, I always have, really. I just couldn’t tolerate it for a while.” They smiled at each other, River let out a soft chuckle. He thought back to his fourth incarnation on Tara and drinking with himself on Gallifrey, all good memories he wished he would remember rather than the pain. River, on the other hand, was thinking of her father.

She laughed, “That’s one way to say it. Remember in Utah when…” Her smile faded, silence fell. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

As those words left, she averted his gaze and bit her lip in embarrassment. She instead watched her wine, bubbling as it swayed in the glass; not unlike how her stomach felt, twisting at the nauseating tension she brought to the room.

“No, River,”  The Doctor placed his drink on the table and took her hand before it made its way to covering her face. His touch was so new, yet so familiar, the same bony fingers and warm comfort. Yet, as his hands caressed her skin, River felt a slight tingle, a quick cold on the back of her hand.

How did she not notice? This whole time,

“I’m the one who should be apologising for being such a horrible excuse for a husband.”

He was wearing a ring. A wedding ring. Their wedding ring.

Two gold bands. One with a green amber. One River knew quite well. One the Doctor had stolen from her after she attempted to take it from Raxacoricofallapatorius. Though “steal” is a rather dubious word, it was more like she let him put his hand down her back pocket and merely didn't bother to spoil his fun - she had only gone out of her way to steal the jewel to get his attention. And there she was, and there he was; on the first night they’d met in order after the wedding.

And, now, there she was, and there he was; dinner with a view. 

“I know I can’t make up for all I’ve done. All the times I left or pushed you away, all the promises I made. I wish I could go back and change things like I used to. But, clearly,” He paused, referring to his new Scottish charm and mature appearance, “There isn’t much I can do now.”

“Doctor –” 

“And I know saying this doesn’t help. It probably makes it worse, I’m just making more excuses.” he cut her off, too busy apologising to hear her, his hand now off hers as if simultaneously becoming a mime would save him from himself.

“Doctor,”

“But, if anything, at least, I just want you to know,”

“Doctor.”

“That I think of you. Night and day. Through every moment in time. At every second of the universe, I’m there, and I’m thinking of you.” Maybe poetry wasn’t for this Doctor, yet he was being entirely serious.

Even in the short period of his life since he’d met River at the library, he’d practically visited every square inch of the universe thrice. And, every moment in time, twice. Since then, she’s been there, occupying his mind with her neverending curls, endless secrets, eternal eyes the colour of mystery, and warm voice that makes all his hairs stand straight.

“Doctor!” 

Finally, he looked up.

She gently took his raised hands he used to plead his guilt, and laid them on the table under hers. River’s soft smile that said more than words ever could. 

“Sweetie, please stop torturing yourself by –” she caught her own tongue. Thinking of my future. Thinking of my death. Thinking of where I'll be in 24 years. All the things she wanted to say but knew she couldn't. Some secrets were best kept hidden, and River wanted to keep him believing he was the only one burdened with the truth. “ blaming yourself .” She finally let out.

There was a brief silence, only the towers could be heard. River longfully watched her husband’s eyes as he did hers, hands still intertwined and the candles still burning.

“Doctor, you are the most wonderful husband I could have ever asked for. I never meant to hurt you. I always miss you more than you will ever know. I'd be lying if I said I never wish things were different…” she shook off that thought, “but here we are. Alive and well, telling me how much you love me,” all the love in the universe could be described as River's eyes, glinting as she spoke, “that's what I've always wanted, nothing more.”

“You are such a sentimental idiot.” The Doctor lifted her face and pressed a soft kiss on her lips.

Dinner was good, dinner was excellent actually. They knew they had more than enough time to catch up, but they also knew they didn’t want to spend all that time just remembering, so they went over the basics. The Doctor told her all about his travels since regenerating, or, at least, all he could remember. She’d assumed, but hadn’t asked, that he’d had a companion, but simultaneously was hoping it wasn’t the girl she’d met on the pirate island, the brunette who talked about souffles. Never rubbed her the right way, but she’d never admit it. Yet somehow, she found herself wishing she was around, because he never seemed to talk of a flight crew, not one, just a few new and old friends here and there, but no regulars. It was worrying, yet all his stories fit perfectly into place despite being alone.

“Oh! Missy!” He explained, like he’d almost forgotten her. “Oough, Missy.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose in annoyance at the memory of her escape.

“You’ve met her?” River elegantly licked the sauce she’d wiped off her face off her finger.

“ You’ve met her?” He was even more perplexed now than he was before when he remembered her.

“A while back. Once when she was impersonating you and I helped her break out one of her past regenerations.  And then at an ‘ Impossible to escape prison ’ which was obviously a trap.” River laughed at the memory, unassuming of her husband’s cross brows.

He didn’t want to admit he was very concerned about the first thing she’d said, since it hadn’t happened yet and had some very questionable and dangerous connotations, but he didn’t want to make her worry for spoilers again, make either of them worry ever again.

“Wait,” He paused and scrunched his face in confusion, “If she was pretending to be a version of me, wouldn’t that mean you’d known I had more regenerations?”

“Oh. I was really young, the first couple years in Stormcage. I didn’t know nearly as much about you and your past as I do now.” A good lie. A lie he didn’t bother looking at her eyes as they pleaded for forgiveness at her perpetual lies and dishonest  voice.

They took in the view from the balcony once more, likening in the sunset and each other's embrace. He kissed her so softly yet so ravishingly her blood banged in her ears and her knees went weak at a feeling she’d thought she’d already experienced with him and only him alone, but love felt so much sweeter under this touch, his touch, the same gentle and refined touch, somehow different, more, love. Which he never thought was possible and she never thought existed.

“Take me home.” She didn’t ask, her eyes sank deep into his. She didn’t even need to say anything; he was ready to scoop her then and there and take her right to the TARDIS. 

“On our first date? How scandalous, Professor.” He scoffed as he laughed and kissed her again, quicker– in a sense– yet still longful.

She only gave him the same look both she and her mum gave him when they scolded him, and only him. Rory always got whatever memo they gave him right away.

And, now, so did he. And not like he was a different person, but like he learned to be better for her, like he learned to make her love him even more, an idea already deemed impossible. He extended his arm to her, she took it and gave him an uncharacteristically chaste peck on the cheek. He quickly noted it, peering an eyebrow at which she only gave him a smile.

With infinite rooms, pools, libraries, art galleries, planetariums, and aquariums, the TARDIS would be anyone’s hit vacation destination, but maybe not if you live there. And this was no insult on her part, she understood, more than anyone, how long overdue this night was. She knew what was best for her thief and daughter, rest.

As they stumbled like the bumbling idiots drunk on love they were, it was breathtaking. The enigmatic illusion of  sunlight beamed through the marbled white floors that replaced the cold metal of the ship. She emanated a warm, nostalgic glow that transported him into a time when the Doctor was much, much younger. And despite the lack of windows, the room no longer felt like a transporter or knock through, but like a cosy home. The soft light that filled the room cast a romantic glow illuminating the ivory railings and caused River’s hair to reflect the rays in a beautiful display of radiance.

The two stood in awe, mesmerising at the redecoration. 

Her “vrwoop”  is a void noise, like a key scraping a wire. As she spoke to her captors, all the TARDIS could feel was love. Love for River and the Doctor, not just in their marriage for all these years , but in their personal lives. They’d grown and blossomed every day and sparked the best in one another. She reassured them that she could be their home, and she would be, but that they could establish their own little bungalow in the open fields of Darillium.

The thought of a home planted on the ground that could not teleport to different pockets of the universe was never farfetched to the Doctor, simply unnecessary. He was always running, always doing something, whether saving others or running from his own death. 

Unlike River. For her, Stormcage had already kept her grounded for hundreds of years. Even if she would be out of her cell more often than not, she always had the perfect image in the back of her mind. Those nights when she wouldn’t take her dinner and fall asleep like the rest of the inmates, she would lie on her back, and a dream would play briefly, before she closed her eyes with a sharp wince escaping from the thought of what could be. She knew more than how much she wanted it that this life was impossible.

As she stood before the TARDIS, her husband leaned down to meet her eyes. Overwhelmed with emotion, tears welled in her vision, and her mouth hung agape in amazement at the extraordinary sight before her.

As he reached for her hand, he did so with gentle care and tenderness. With their fingers intertwined, she drew nearer to him, and he tenderly pressed his lips on the back of her ear. But not in lust, his kiss was soft and delicate, like a butterfly. His eyes sparkled, revealing the depth in her eyes. In the light, her tears glistened, reflecting his own.  

He playfully inquired of his beloved spouse, “And what do you think, my dear wife?” He released her hand from his lips, holding it tenderly and rubbing it with care while waiting patiently for her response.

She replied with a teasing tone, “Oh, shut up.” Her composure was barely maintained, fighting back the urge to break down into a weeping mess while maintaining her poise in her high heels.

Embraced tightly, they wept tears of joy that streamed down their faces, intermingling with the pure love that bound them. Her hands, gentle and delicate, caressed his face, conveying their deep connection and the cherished treasure that each moment together represented. Intertwined emotions overwhelmed them with gratitude and happiness, creating an indescribable sensation of pure love.

The soft, slow hums of the TARDIS spoke throughout the ship as they embraced. River sniffled, wiping her tears with a small mauve handkerchief she kept a slim pocket on her left hip, “Damn,” She smiled, “You really know how to swoop a girl off her fe-” Before she could finish her sentence, her husband wrapped her arm over his shoulder - one hand on her back, the other under her knees - lifting her up bridal style. 

“Comfortable?” He asked his bespoken bride. 

“Very.” She smirked, holding out her free hand - reaching for his face to kiss his cheek. 

“I'll just shift our coordinates a bit,” Before he could attempt to reach the control panel, River did it for him, putting them just a couple kilometres away from Alphonse’s restaurant. “No worries, dear,” She said slyly.

As the Doctor carried River toward their bedroom, more than anything, more than the lust evoked by her lips, hips, eyes, ears, nose, jaw, curls, shoulders, everything — all he felt was a sense of overwhelming love and adoration for his wife. 

They had been through so much together, but no matter what, they always found their way back to each other. He laid gently down on the bed. They melted into each other, River’s wrist draping over the other, her arms on his shoulders, short, shallow breaths as she turned her face onto his. 

Years ago, she could have sworn she’d never kiss her husband again. River watched the TARDIS disappear, the grating sound of the breaks as he left. She gripped the cold cell bars for at least an hour, standing still in the entrance as if waiting for time to stop her torment. But there he went, running as he always did.

And he’d continue to run until his death, where she’d be back on that beach, the warehouse, the orphanage, and back in her cell — a cruel curse of time. It took most of her strength to let go of the bar, her hand stationary, cupping the air, her hearts on the verge of shattering as she turned her gaze. 

But time couldn’t stop him; nothing could, not for her.

Demon’s Run . When he left, River knew precisely where he was going. Just two days after Utah, after the kiss, after she’d lost hope, the scraping noise of the TARDIS caught her ears.  And there he was, and there she was, and there were his lips on hers, his hands in her hair as he held her jaw in a manner of lust but primarily adoration.

She wasn’t human, not all human.  He hated just how long it took him to find her, truly find her. 

To find that she was the love of his life, and while, yes, it would come to a particularly tragic end, they had time.

He’d fallen in love before, in love with a human, and she’d fallen in love with him. But he couldn’t let himself love her, not as he was. She’d die, and he’d have to move on. She could only love him as a human, but that wasn’t really him. 

So, he stopped loving.

But there she was – River Song, Melody Pond, the woman who’d murder him and the woman he’d marry. 

Time didn’t need to be backwards; he just needed to stop running.  They needed time; and finally, he realised they had all the time in the world.

As River and the Doctor lay nestled in, surrounded by the hum of the engines, River smiled back on her life with the Doctor, the adventures and the tragedies, the love and the fear. 

The Doctor whispered, “I love you, River Song.” 

“I love you too, sweetie,” she replied, tracing circles on his chest. “Forever and always.” 

Relative to the 3rd of January, 05 AA (After Alphonse), Darillium

We’ve been discussing the details of the construction over the holiday season to have it ready before we start working at the University. Honestly, this all feels so surreal. I worked at Luna, I’m not saying that working at a school feels surreal. It’s more that living here, building a home and having a  job doesn’t, well, I don't want to say ‘doesn't feel right’, because it most certainly does. It’s just, it doesn't feel real. But that’s the Doctor I guess. I wonder how many times I’ve said that.

The only issue is that they’re building the main floor closet around it and it wouldn’t be very nice to move her around while it’s still not finished, so we’ve been staying inside. And though I could go outside, I’d rather stay. I know it’s just the anxiety but I don’t want to walk out and see it and not like it. Every day, a new detail I love seems childish and stupid, little things like the railing design or the tile pattern of the kitchen, and I know we could always change that along the way so I shouldn't worry. But with big details like the structure of the house, it’s difficult not to dwell on how it’ll look.

We were at breakfast this morning, I had a set of blueprints in one hand, the other toast.

“You really don’t think two balconies, a porch and a shed is too much? I mean,” I finished my bite, “Are you sure you’re alright with one of the balconies being so close to the porch?”

“It’s not close,” The Doctor was just behind me, stretching his arm above me as he always did and he placing his cup of tea on the table, “It’ll be on the second floor.”

I had no other choice but to roll my eyes.

‘You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do, sweetie.” He kissed my head through my mane of curls, “But you also know I’m completely sincere when I say the plans are lovely.” He took a seat. “Now,” He finished his sip of tea before continuing, “I am just glad you are indulging my love of round beds.”

I think an audible gulp comes out of me when he so prominently pronounces and rolls his Rs. 

Clearing my throat, “Yes! I enjoyed the idea. I think it will be a bit strange at the beginning, but we’ll get accustomed to it.”

We always did. Weird and strange was our whole ordeal.

“I, for one, am glad it still means we have a headboard. That was what was really not selling it to me the first 20 times you tried to get me to buy one.” I placed my hands under my chin with a smirk.

“Down girl.” He smiled back before returning to the sink and rinsing out his cup.

I don’t think I can actually survive being around him with a Scottish accent.

Chapter Text

Stormcage, 5315 AD. 

The cell is cold - it’s always cold, just not this cold. I’d gotten used to the heat of his body when we occupied the bed, laying on the stolen mattress he helped me sneak a couple years ago. Every time he leaves, I can feel my hearts sink - I know what comes next, he knows less.

I carry this stupid diary everywhere. I don’t remember a day since my internment that I didn’t reread our adventures - each time I peruse these pages, I’m reminded of his enchantment, that impossible man. 

And despite my best efforts, I can’t shake off this overwhelming sorrow and longing for what could have been. Night after night, I find myself lost in a sea of memories I hold dear yet can never fully relive again. The moments etched into my soul are a bittersweet reminder of what we once were. I’ll hold on to it even after my death. And that is why I know you are reading this, my love. 

I don’t know how much you know, and I can’t explain how delighted that makes me - the idea that I know you, but you know more; I haven’t felt that exhilaration for the past century. But I know, for sure, that you’ve seen my last breath - I can see it in your eyes. The more I see you - the younger you are - the more you look at me like a corpse. I try not to think about what you saw, who you saw, who I was to you - the thought that I’ll have to be vulnerable with you terrorizes me, my dear husband.

I only hope to live to see you age - just once. Seeing your hair sprout grey, the creases around your eyes as you smile when I kiss you again. That you’ll be able to hold me once more as we spend one last embrace and drift off - for me to see you again before your eyes are corrupted by my tears once I say goodbye.

But the world is cruel, and time is more - and I have to live with the reality, my love. That time will pass as it always has; your life will pass as mine started. So, my dear, I just ask of you - keep reading. Remember, reminisce, and never forget how much I love you, and don’t you dare change a thing.

You better not even think about being a coward! I have shed enough tears, longed for you endlessly, and put myself through hell all because of you. You’ll do the most damage if you dare to quit now to spare me some pain - keep going until you reach that final page, then reread it! You will know how I hurt when you left me with that stupid kiss after Florida, when I worried about our future together in Asgard, when you sent me to voicemail after I called for you with my last breath as I froze in the vacuum of space.

And just once more, come for me, find me, and stay. In our future, together - no spoilers, no rules, just us. And that, for once, I’ll see you cry as we dance once more.

He closed the stained blue book, his finger between the pages as he settled the ribbon to mark the path of his regretful pastime. The Doctor straightened his slackened posture in the armchair and sauntered to the foyer, drying his tears with the tips of his fingers. His eyes darted between the white ivory clock and the muted pistachio door. He swallowed, taking a pensive glance once more at the door before opening the quite noticeable blue box next to the stairs. He hurriedly entered the box, quick to hide the diary, determined to keep it secret, bury the burden, and protect her from undue worry about her future.

And like magic, after having traced back his steps, hidden the evidence and returned to the plush seat, now a signed copy of The Murder of Roger Ackroyd in his hands, a radiating light shined through the sitting room.

It was a feeling you can’t describe. 

He  was never good at these sorts of things, but, somehow, he’d always known she was the most beautiful thing, person, light in the universe. The kind of light that could brighten up a room by itself. And not like a sharp white light hanging from an empty ceiling, but like every candle. Always shining, always moving, always talking. Like a small flame on a birthday cake, a light so pure and sweet it would make you forget all about the cruel tricks of time.

Her smile, gleaming from the foyer, made him feel like thawing snow under the warm rays of an early spring sun. And his hands on her hips felt like a world of kisses. It’d been a year already— at least here on Darillium, only they know how many years it had actually been— and he’d never get tired of cherishing and cuddling her, nor would she, though she hated to admit it.

His delicate arms encircled her in a comforting hug as he lovingly clasped his hands around her smooth waist and the Doctor rested his chin on her shoulder. He pressed gentle kisses on her blushing cheeks, and embraced his cherished wife, joyfully, simply at the sight of her.

He leaned further to her, his lips so close to her ear. “Hello, Sweetie.” He blew warm air that sent her a prickle of greed, her body arching softly in response. 

She snickered, turning her body to him as she took his face into her hands and spoke against his lips. “Hello,” RIver went on to place a chaste kiss on his cheek, under the damp puddle of tears he was intent on hiding. She said nothing in that regard. 

“My dear Doctor, so clingy after I'm out of your sight for two hours.” River flicked his nose. “Your love has made you so weak,” she teased, with a twinkle in her eye that saw through his deceit.

“Can you blame me when my dearest wife is the most ravishing woman in the cosmos?” The rolls in his Rs sent chills through her spine, her knuckles turning white as she struggled to keep her balance.  He loved to cover her in compliments as soon as she was in his line of sight. “If my love for you is my weakness, you’ve officially killed me. Twice.” He desperately needed to make sure she knew just how much he loved her. He could never bear a reality where she ever questioned it again.

“That was such a bad joke,” She chuckled at his pandering, patted his shoulders and turned her back as she unlaced her boots. “In fact.” River placed them under the white Atorian wood stool she had crafted last month, “I think I heard my dad say that once, more or less.” She placed one more kiss on his cheek before striding into the kitchen. Her hips and his eyes gazed at each other in unison.  

She didn’t have to look over her shoulder to know he was trailing just behind her as she made her way to the elegant marble island. Settling onto a stool, she gazed upon her husband with a look of adoration, her hands clasped beneath her chin. A glass of rich, ruby-red Arcadian wine stood at her side, its enticing aroma wafting to her nose.

Her husband donned a deep navy corduroy apron emblazoned with the phrase, ‘ Trust me, I’m a Chef’ with a stitched red arrow peering up after ‘I’m’ followed by ‘the Doctor, and’ in big red font.  It was a charming gift she had bestowed upon him three months prior during the holiday season; on the first of twenty-four Christmases together . 

With a persistent posture, he stood tall above the electric stove on the kitchen island, leaving a trail of soiled dishes and pots in his wake. In a deft motion, he meticulously transferred a steaming hot tin from the oven to the countertop, his hands bedecked with exquisite oven mitts boasting charming roses and thorny vines.

“Living up to the apron, are we, Mr. Song?” She watched him through her eyebrows, and she downed her glass. “I’m just surprised you didn’t use the TARDIS to cook it – what is it anyway?”

A disturbing sight unfolded before her eyes as she gazed over the tin. It was nothing short of a culinary catastrophe. He had made a feeble attempt to cook chips in the oven, hacking the potatoes into oddly shaped cubes instead of the usual sturdy pillars. 

The result was a heap of charred and shrivelled potato cubes that had congealed into a potato ball. It was a pitiful sight to behold.

Suppressing a burst of laughter proved to be a challenging ordeal as she bit her lips together, her eyes feeling like they would pop out of her head as she tried to keep her composure. River trembled as she tried to regain her poise and recompense into her seat. She took another drink of her empty wine glass so as to not raise suspicion and attempted to position the drink back on the counter, covering her flustered face with convulsing hands.

“You can laugh,” His annoyed Scottish tang rang with pestering as he saw her break down before him.  She took an exuberant breath as she pushed herself off the counter, one hand on the marble and the other on her chest as she broke out in tears of amusement. 

“How can you be over 2000 years old and not know how to cook?” As she teased him, a thrilling chill ran through his spine. He hadn’t told her . “You won a bloody cooking contest in Prague against the master of all Daleks, for crying out loud. “ She continued to laugh, her broad smile and shining grin contagious as the Doctor’s eyes softened and brows unfurled, his cheeks blushing and head tilting in amusement. 

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” She walked around the kitchen island to meet him and cup his face before kissing his nose. “But we’re accepting those cooking classes at the centre. I’ll call Keeva after dinner.” 

He gave a soft grunt of distaste at her decree and River simply tisked as she looked into his frail and delicate eyes. 

“Are there any leftovers?” Assuming they had eaten all that was left from Lady Valve's dinner party a few nights ago, but betting on at least a spare roll.

“Takeaway?” The Doctor replied. He didn’t answer her question, but he understood the underlying message, they needed to eat. Now.

“We did that last night,“ She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt buried beneath her skin. River strolled her fingers through the curls behind her ear as she thought. She’d always known she wasn’t the homemaker type, not even close. And as she rarely cooked or cleaned and often neglected her household duties, her head kept echoing the same words it had been for the past 170 years. Personal assassins don’t typically make good wives. Honestly, less harsh than she regularly was on herself.

Seeing her in such a state of emotional turmoil was heartbreaking for him, feeling a deep sense of regret for something . Something he didn’t know how to put into words and apologise for, probably because it was too vast or because he’d already apologised a dozen times before. He didn't know.

“So?” he finally asked, wrapping his arms around her and gently closing the refrigerator door and lifting her chin with his lean and gentle hands as she looked at him with eyes full of shedded mystery he now recognised as pure and unadulterated love.

“We can watch a movie,” he added, holding her waist with his arms, his hand interlaced with the other, and swaying gently, “and have a peaceful night. All I want is to have you by my side, every night.”

As cliché as it was, it was truly an honest, heartfelt sentiment from the bottom of his vast hearts. And so was, “Sentimental bastard”. That was a new thing he hadn’t had before with River, ‘ harsher words of affirmation™ .’ That is, if you consider ‘bastard’  to be harsh.

Amidst the stacks of dishes and the aroma of wine and potatoes in their no longer pristine white kitchen, River tilted her head to kiss her husband. 

They savoured the quiet evening together, like they did every night, like they were the only two people in the world.

And like an earthquake, a blaring sound rang through the house, echoing in their ears like banging drums.

“For fuck’s sake,” River covered her ears and the two stormed to the box with routine. As soon as she entered the TARDIS, she answered and hung up the phone at the door, eliminating the blasting sound only from the outside.

Despite the countless times it wasn’t, the Doctor’s mind went to intrusion, so, like a mad penguin with a charged apron, he ran to the silver scanner screen, which only showed a shift in coordinates as soon as River shut the door he’d left open.

Before the two could get a grip, the TARDIS began piloting herself out to the distress call. 

River yelled, one hand on the white interior of the doors, the other on the wall, still cornered at the phone, “Not again.”

Letting his guard slip for the slightest moment to turn to his wife, the Doctor’s hand left the dial he was holding. The TARDIS made a sharp turn that caused the couple to literally be thrown aback, with the Doctor flailing onto the railing and almost falling over one of his many collections of 20th century Earth records.

Regaining balance, one hand gripping the silver railing, he yelled to the TARDIS, “WHY DO YOU KEEP DOING THIS, OLE GIRL?”

The TARDIS simply continued on her route, not responding to her thief. The Doctor finally got enough of a handle on the controls to look up at River, “Do you want to help or stand there watching?”

River blinked, “Sorry, sweetie. I’m still so confused. She never did this, not to this extent,” She passed her left hand on the railing in a smooth and comforting motion, “I just don’t understand what about us this past year has her acting up like this.”

The Doctor’s voice grew more frustrated, shouting at her as he was too occupied trying to properly steer the TARDIS, “We’ll talk about her when I’ve got her under control. Just come here and help!”

River gave him an unseen glare that quickly subsided at the sight of the tension in his brow. She stood his opposite, helping to navigate through the vortex.

And simply seeing her come and help made the Doctor’s irritation melt like mist in the morning. They worked together in as much silence as the still blasting alarm would let them before he asked, “Where do you think she’s taking us this time?”

“I’ve given up guessing.” River rolled her eyes, “I just want this to be as quick and spontaneous as the rest of her surprise trips .”

“You seem a bit annoyed at all of this.” He looked up at her with a peering brow.

“Shouldn’t I be?”

The Doctor laughed at her response. For some reason, somehow, her  annoyance always made him laugh.

“Anything on the screen?” River asked, jerking her chin at his left hand propping up the scanner.

“Not yet, it’s all flashing numbers. I- MY GOD!” He shouted at the console, “WHY IS THIS ALARM STILL GOING OFF?”

With his sudden outburst, the TARDIS shook under their feet. River moved her hands from the buttons and dials to the supporting beams around the console, only letting go of one hand at a time, the other always holding on tight. The TARDIS took no mind to this, continuing to make adjustments to her course that only seemed to make the alarm louder and louder. 

And in a second, she stopped. Quiet and utter confusion filled the room.

The Doctor took an exasperated and heavy breath, trying to regain composure after their sudden stop. River made her way to him, and took the scanner screen, seeing  it stopped showing the shift in coordinates he’d seen before. Rather, it was back to normal, with no weird shifting symbols or codes.

“Ok?” River turned to him. The Doctor was still trying to understand what had happened, trying to capture the thoughts flying away almost as fast as the TARDIS in the vortex. He turned towards his wife to answer, but before he could speak, he caught a glimpse of her face, shining.

He saw her slight pout and then the raised eyebrows, typical, he’d just missed something she’d already figured out.

“What’s with the face?” He humoured her, examining her gaze.

“What face?” She smiled.

He couldn’t help but smirk as he looked into her eyes. The playfulness in her expression brought out such a playful tone in his voice. “That cheeky smile of yours. You know, that face you do when you always know something I don’t.” He tilted his head slightly and looked into her eyes with glee.

“Flirt.”

“Sue me.” He took to her back, gently holding her shoulders and pressing a kiss on her left cheek. She smiled, he felt her cheeks rise on his lips. “So?”

“Oh,” She grinned, slightly biting her bottom lip, “it’s perfect.” River turned to face the Doctor and moved the screen to her side to show him, “We’re on Calderon Beta.”

He only smiled and slightly turned his head in amusement.

“Yup. September 22nd, sadly, but right year though. Fancy some chips? Not burnt this time.”

“Ha. Ha.” He rolled his eyes with a smile and cocked brow. She smiled back.

“If I remember correctly,” River turned her back on him once more, adjusting the scanner in front of her and retrieving their coordinates, “We didn’t park too far from here. It’s only 26 hours after the star storm, I think we stuck around for a while.” She was about to say ‘ well,’   before she  cut herself off with a suppressed laugh.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” She straightens her spine.

“What you were going to say.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Oh?” He was so amused by the blush on her cheeks.

“Yeah.”

“Nothing at all?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

“So if I were to…” He slid his hands from her shoulders to her hips and pressed his face in the space between her neck and left shoulder.

“DIDN’T WE HAVE A THING TO DO?”

“I try to flirt with my wife and suddenly she wants to get to work.”

“I’m hungry.” She pleaded.

“Chips?” He teased with a raised brow.

“Don’t get coy with me.”

The Doctor narrowed his eyes on her, his playful demeanour dropping. “You said you were hungry,” He echoed, trying to pick out the emotion in her voice from earlier, “, and you said you wanted chips, just proposing what you think is best, sweetie.” He leaned closer to her neck, “Do you remember what we did on Calderon Beta?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at her flushed cheeks. His face was still buried in her neck, she felt his face tighten into her. He kissed her neck, “Really? You aren’t going to flirt back?”

As he kissed her neck, River’s breathing pattered. She couldn’t speak, only shaking her head no, still blushing as she felt his lips, hands and breath on her skin.

“Let’s get this done, whatever it is, nice and quick, and then we can talk when we get home.” She said with a soft smile hiding a smirk.

As he pulled away from her neck, his voice a subtle tease as he replied, “You like it when I flirt with you.”

"I don't know what you're talking about," Another smile, so pure, so soft, so radiant. She cupped his face and kissed him on the bridge of his nose. "Now," She urged him to follow out the doors of the TARDIS, "Let's see what all of this is about."

With her words echoing from her lips, the Doctor followed her. He watched her, the way she walked, with such grace, like a delicate flower in the breeze. And the sight out the doors made him want to kiss and hold her even more, but he followed through with her instructions.

“2360, human colony, quite boring,” River had her hands on her hips, stretching her back as she spoke, “Not a centre for conflict other than a few cracked shop windows, but that’s life.”

“No screaming or yelling, no clear signs of invasion,” The Doctor looked down the small hill where they stood at the shopping district, “Then again, the last time the TARDIS took us somewhere it was to judge a cooking competition.”

“Which,” She pointed out, “would have turned quite violent with intervention. I’ve seen how competitive Drahivins can be. I shared my cell block with one. Nice girl.”

“Yes, still, why call the TARDIS to such mundane conflicts? That’s what bothers me.”

“Agreed,” River placed her hand on his back.

Down the hill, a street of shops, very European– French almost. One of those shops, on a corner, was a tiny little red shop. Let it be known all these shops are chip shops, and if not chip shops, then tinier markets and hotels, especially because of the astronomical event the night before. 

Outside the little red shop are a few black metal tables with parasols at the top, with two black chairs and a matching white and red cushion on each. The store had colourful, seemingly candy-coated, painted windows. And as they watch the street, and then the little red shop, almost instantly, it bursts into flames. The candy-painted windows burst and the black metal chairs went flying. 

Anyone else would flinch at that, but the two didn't take a second before running down the hill. River went down first, only looking back once to check on the Doctor, before seeing him outrun her, coat-tailing like a penguin. 

The little red door was now shards of butchered glass with somewhat burnt colours. They both took out their sonics, scanning the area as they did to alert them of anything they couldn’t see, per se. One of those was the brustling sounds covered by the flames of cries for help. That of young children under the debris. The screwdrivers focused their frequencies on their pleas, one girl could be heard under a piece of, what seemed to be, the open ceiling design’s venting.

The Doctor called out to River before being stopped by what his eyes saw. On the ground were charged pieces of fabric, under the rubble, spanning throughout the room in chunks. And it wasn't until he noticed the gold trimming and embroidery that he knew they were robes, dozens of robes. He worked to dig his fingers deep and under the panels of wood toppling the victims, at least to allow them some better airflow.

On the other side, River was doing the same, rummaging through the debris to open a space and push the wooden pillars of one of the bodies. She had opened a sort of hatch, seeing a young girl smothered by the plush velvet of her hood, hung over her head and keeping it down. The poor little girl was terrified, quivering and crying from the blisters and burns on her arms. 

River called out to the Doctor, all in vain, with the flames cutting through with their crackling.  She kept digging with more frantic desperation to clear the space for the girl. 

“You’re going to be okay, alright?” River spoke to her in such a soft, comforting voice, easing the little girl’s tears. River held her close for comfort, sure to barely touch the bruises. 

The girl clung to River, her body trembling in fear, tears streaming down her face. She kept her steady. Her voice, soft and soothing, speaking words of comfort and reassurance to the trembling child. She guided her gently towards the door, careful not to startle her further. The poor girl’s face was matted by grime and ash, you could barely make out the ginger of her hair from the ash. 

Next to the Doctor, from the shadows, out of thin air, was another cloaked figure, an adult, not burnt or hurt, wearing silk robes and gold trim, just standing there– like an idiot with no sense of importance to the events around them, looking at River. From them came another, this one already lifting a plank of wood off another child, a Malmooth boy. 

“OI!” The Doctor shouted at the lingering one— to no avail— instead walking away from him to another pile of debris. He was ready to spew a series of callous decrees if it weren't for the more pressing matters, but when wouldn’t he?

He kept clearing out, working to get two velvet-cloaked adults from the front counter’s perimeter– fortunately not too hurt. The men were awake and agile enough to begin helping straight away, covering more area for the search for survivors— all children under their care screaming and crying out.  As a few ran out and the rest were carried, covered in soot, dust and blisters, a crowd of shopkeepers and tourists from the night before blossomed, and comforted them with proper aid. Inside, three of them were quick at clearing off the rubble and moving away the slabs of wood from the ceiling while the others extinguished the flames. The four in robes returned to the crowd with the safe children in their arms like in the films. 

With the flames doused and everyone out of the building and being taken care of, River and the Doctor just watched as they helped one another. They sat at a little outdoor cafe table on the other side of the street, white and metal with one of those colourful parasols for decoration. But now, it was dirtied by the soot and dirt from their clothes and the blood from River’s hands. 

“Let me,” The Doctor put his hand under hers as she bandaged it.

“Thank you, sweetie.” River let out a tired sigh, she held the end of the gauze in place as he wrapped it from her palm to her forearm. She stared off into the distance of people, all smiling with relief and joy at their safety.

It was quiet, tense. Finally, he chimed in, “They’re the Children of the Stars , right?” River blinked. “I remember them. They take voyages through human colonies to teach kids about astronomy. Quite the dream, really.”

She turned her head to him, trying to read his expression. “Learning of the stars at that age, I mean.” A smile she didn’t know was there disappeared. “I didn’t get out into space until I was in my late 50s, and even then it wasn’t as…” He looked for the word, “ fun as it is for them.”

She kept silent, still watching the crowd. They all wore black cloaks with golden trimming. “Weren’t there just two adults that night?” She asked. He looked up.

“What?”

“Yeah, there were only two. Two young men. One group of 12 children and two adults, I remember. We were on the tree branch. I pointed at them as they set down their picnic that night. I said, ‘We could do that, you know?’ Yeah… Then you said, ‘I don’t think anyone in their right mind would let you be around children’…” Quiet. “And then I laughed… I said, ‘Good point,’ and rested my head on your shoulder.” It took more strength than it did to clear the burning building to hold her composer and not cry.

She took a sharp breath as he unknowingly pressed his thumb into her palm, all his attention on her eyes.

“Sorry.” He wasn't sure what he was apologising for at that moment, but he knew it probably wasn’t for the hand.

“No problem.” She smiled.

When they made their way out of the little shop district, one of the men quickly turned to them, only meeting their backs as they walked away. He took a basket of chips and ran to her, and found her standing next to the blue box.

The man hurriedly ran to her with such gratitude. River turned, seeing and meeting him with a confused smile.

“Thank you, ma’am!” He stretched the chips to her, her soft hands graciously accepting them with a performance of understanding.

“No, thank you.” She smiled at the man as he turned his head back to the crowd and then to her and the Doctor, giving them a nod of good bye and quickly running back down the tall hill.

“What was all that about?” River asked, turning to the Doctor as he exited the TARDIS.

“I don’t know, maybe he was thanking you for not killing him.” He joked, being almost as confused as her.

“Idiot.”

“Space hair.”

“Flirt.”

She looked out at the skyline from the hill, taking in a deep breath with a calm smile before returning to the TARDIS. 

He smiled too, so young, so sad. He followed her with his eyes before looking back at the view, hands in his pockets. 

And then he spotted that hair again, from the TARDIS, a TARDIS far away, but not far away enough for the two to not watch each other and still see each and every detail in the other’s eye. She smiled, older, happier, a single tear blossoming in her eye. 

And when he smiled back, she returned to the box and flew home, holding his ever lovely hand.

Their whole lives, together and separate, were a whirlwind. Never would they have thought they could have something as normal as a ‘movie night’ , at least not by themselves. As a family, as the Ponds (and even back when they were the Ponds, Williams, and Zuckers), they’d always find a way to squeeze in some time to be ‘’risk free’ as Rory would call it (and, again, even when they were kids, ‘ risk free” simply ment Amy and Mels couldn’t terrorise the poor boy or leave him alone for the next 30 minutes).

It was a way to de-stress and come together as people rather than companions, is what he used to say. Those quiet evenings (if you could even call them ‘quiet’) regularly consisted of board games, book club meeting a few times, awkward trips to the library the Doctor was too paranoid to ever bring up, wine tastings, learning to paint, unassuming magic shows (courtesy of Houdini from both River and the Doctor), and movie nights; the best nights. 

In the summers, Amy would take out a bed sheet and lay it out vertically propped on a tree in the yard and take out a projector. They’d take out a few bottles, a couple bags of crisps, and a picnic blanket. To Rory’s delight, the Doctor would place a shield of the sound around the house so as to not disturb the neighbourhood. Together, they’d rest on the sheet with a few pillows, sometimes one or two lawn chairs, together under the stars, together as a family.

But now, it was only the two of them. The two least likely to ever take a break. The two least likely to stop running.

River was surprised when her husband’s arm curled around her, drawing her close as they settled side by side on the couch. He buried his nose in her golden curls and rested his forehead against her head.

“Friendly today, aren’t we?”  she teased, facing him and gently kissing his soft lips. It was different from the way she kissed his previous incarnations.

That face. It matched hers. 

Even with the prolonged life span, River still aged, and so did he, yet rarely showed – his exhausted life showing in the lines around his softened eyes, his tall smile when she cracked dirty jokes and gave playful winks, and the grey roots in his hair that she hadn’t had the heart to dye. She had grown used to his silver curls, bouncing as he eagerly led her to the summit of mountain trails, always excited to show his beloved wife a new breathtaking view.

Curled together on their white faux New Venusian leather couch, their legs stretched out on a matching ottoman, embracing under an expansive lavender crocheted blanket that the Doctor had made last month during his rare moments of leisure.

They had aligned their schedules to the best of their abilities - the same holidays, midterms, class periods - all so they could come home to one another; of course, things could falter, with grading and meetings periodically cutting into their early dawns and late dusks.

But that evening was silent - the good kind. The kind of silence where they could hear their hearts beating slower than usual as they nestled beneath the covers - River’s left leg on her husband’s as she meandered up next to him, resting her head on his chest. 

The T.V. played in a quiet film from the 34th century, a period piece on Saturn’s rings as two asteroids try to reach one another despite being on opposing sides of the planet. It’s a truly tearful movie.

River stroked his chest as she nuzzled his shoulder.

“Friendly, aren’t we, Professor Song?” He smirked with her previous tease and planted another kiss on her head before returning his attention to the TV. 

River continued to watch him, her thoughts wandering.

“Sweetie,” she hesitated.

She was scared to ask; she had been scared for years. 

She feared his response, how he would look at her.

And he thought it was a joke? Would he laugh at her face? 

And what if she’s being stubborn, selfish even - what if the mere words she spoke made him regret his choice, regret his wife? 

But she needed to let it out, finally say it - she had waited far too long, just over a century and a half, and she wondered what he would say.

She watched him, unkinking her posture and she sat up, one hand on his chest, the other on the couch, worry in her eyes as she clamoured,

“I want to have your time tots!” 

What the fuck did she just say!? 

That was never the plan, not that there ever was one.

She’d simply say, ‘What do you think about children?’ That’s it, nothing more.

Then, they would develop a conversation; she imagined that even as dense as he was, he’d pick up the hint and understand that she wanted to start a family with him. Sooner or later, they’d have their own little Doctor with its own screwdriver that they’d raise for the next 21 and a half years until that last night – now grown up – their child would travel alongside their dad as they explored the stars, and River would go on to whatever horrid event her husband saw all those years ago, she’d die, but he’d have their child, and all would be good.

But no, instead, she blasted through the thick sheet of ice and outright proposed that they get started for children right on the spot.

Her eyes went wide instantly as her face flushed, she felt frozen. 

He was surprised by her eagerness as his eyes widened. She loved his eyes, even though she could never decide on their colour. But mostly, they were green.

That night, they were green. The colour of mystery.

And there she was, back on Asgard, paralysed once more by his stare.

The Doctor, on the other hand, dawned a broad smile and lowered his eyebrows. 

His face speaks for itself , she thought.

This is why I should’ve kept my mouth shut. God, I’m so stupid – why would he ever want kids? He’s been there, done that. How can an effervescent being of time like him ever want this? He’s already compromised by staying with me, a child will just make it worse.

All her fear seeped as she kept watching his eyes – full of love, but more than that, worry.

She hesitated to even continue breathing, let alone speak again - sucking her lips in and biting them in a flat grin as she held her breath. Her tongue slowly began to poke through her lips before drawing it back and resisting the urge to run away.

“River…”

The way he called her name, it wasn’t like when you cancel dinner plans you made months in advance for your mates – more like telling a child that Santa Claus isn’t real. Breaking reality to them and apologising for the lie you let them live.

He had read her entry about their time at Asgard, her reluctance to even ask him about their future, and just how stupid he was – and just how stupid he is. 

And she was right, she was getting older, they both were. 

Still, the thought that he could be a father again, a good one, one that doesn’t have to steal his granddaughter from his own people to keep her safe, one that doesn’t leave his weapon of war of a daughter stranded after she died in his arms (long story), he could be there for their child, really be there. 

“We- I … no it is we - um…” He stammered, words felt impossible at that moment.

The Doctor took a deep breath with regret, though he couldn’t quite place where it came from.

“After Pythia – well technically, just as the 508th died, Gallifrey was cursed. Any child born of a Time Lord dies. That’s why we created looming and I- I just… I’m sorry River.”

There was a pause. Not one of shock or sadness, but rather, one of sympathy.

“I know,” she whispered. Somehow, they had switched their responses.

And with the Doctor now emotionally frail as his own dream crumbled, River was there to be his anchor of reality. 

She’d been thinking about this for ages. Of course she had. Of course she argued with herself every day about this precise moment (as impromptu as it was).

Her hands cupped his cheeks.

“But sweetie, I’m not from Gallifrey.” Big, tearful drops rolled down his cheeks as her gaze softened, and a sweet smile curved on her lips.

They passionately clung to each other’s faces and shared an almost ethereal of kisses.

She eventually pulled away, finally sobbing on his shoulder and laughing in disbelief as he ran his fingers through her hair and planted kisses on her curls.

Her cheeks flushed with emotion as she trembled beneath his touch. They sat there for what felt like endless minutes before he gently lifted her chin with his index finger, gazing into her eyes and whispered,

“I love you,” a teardrop falling from his soulful eyes.

Chapter Text

“How much longer?” 

Restlessness overcame River as she lay on the frigid medical table inside the TARDIS, her eyes fixed on her husband as he performed another medical scan. 

She sighed heavily, her impatience mounting with each passing moment. This was already the third scan, and she couldn’t help but wonder how long this process would take. 

Meanwhile, her husband stood silently, glued to the screen before him. He donned a pair of reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and scrutinised the data with intense focus. With each swipe of his finger, he scrolled through various charts and graphs, each meticulously detailing his wife’s vital signs. 

His face was a mask of concentration as he analysed the data, his mind racing to decipher the meaning behind each fluctuation. Despite the long wait, River couldn’t help but feel grateful for her husband’s unwavering dedication to her well-being. 

The sterile environment of the TARDIS’s medical bay, with its cold metal walls and sanitary equipment, only added to her discomfort. Yet, the reassuring presence of her husband, with his steady hands and unwavering attention to detail, helped ease her nerves.

“Not much, sweetie,” he eventually answered. His latency in replying was noticeable - his wife had already redirected her attention to the pale tiles on the roof of the medical bay to the right of the console room.

“Do you merely wanna play doctor, or do I get to learn what’s going on?” The woman’s discontent was evident as she sat upright, resting her forearms on the table and sitting up.

“NO - No, lay back down!” He swiftly moved through the small space between them, gently placing his hands on her shoulders to guide her back onto the metal.

As she lifted a perfectly arched eyebrow, her gaze met her husband's curiosity. He couldn’t help but feel his heart skip a beat as he admired how her curly locks cascaded down her head, adding to her already stunning appearance. She carried herself with such elegance and grace never ceased to amaze him.

He hesitated and stepped backwards, hands extended as if shielding himself from River before saying, “Just one more scan.”

"What’s taking so long? I mean, pregnancy tests are usually quick and easy - not to mention we’re in the TARDIS,” she contested, gently placing her left hand on the white wall beside her. “The ole girl knows what she’s doing.” The TARDIS purred contentedly, emitting a soothing hum resembling a happy cat.

“Yes, but,” He began to answer - his attention divided as he initiated another scan, his focus fixed on River’s abdomen, tracing the path from her lungs to her pelvis. The soft green light illuminated her bare stomach as she watched intently, unable to move anything but her neck. 

She returned his gaze, her expression not one of anger but of concern.  

What was he doing? Is everything okay? Is there something she didn’t know about herself? Did the Silence do something? Madame Kovarian? What else did she do to her at Demon’s Run? Could River even have kids? Even though her husband had expressed a desire for kids, she couldn’t help but wonder if he genuinely meant it. 

Her mind was flooded with anxiety as her eyes lost focus, and she just saw the shape of her husband in the close distance. She hadn’t noticed he had begun to walk her way.

"Sweetie?” He whispered, noticing her wandering gaze. "It’s ready.” 

He had done all the scans, the x-rays, the blood sample - the results were in.

"Hm?” She perked up as he spoke. “Sorry, yes,” she said, taking his hand and sitting on the cold metal table. 

She impatiently shook her legs up and down, hands clasped on her closed legs.

Taking a rolling stool, the kind found in medical offices, he seated himself and lowered a screen from the ceiling, tilting it to face his wife. 

The two of them had been discussing the possibility of having children for the past two weeks since they had first spoken about it on the couch. However, even as they dreamed of their future offspring, they were plagued by the truth and inherent fears of raising time-lord children.

And with whatever these weekly TARDIS distress calls  were, as mundane and simple as they could be, so could they be deadly. And they’re schedule was unruly, no pattern, just spontaneous. Still, at the end, a comforting reminder of their bond. How she was always there for him, and him for her. And how he brought out the best in her, at least when they were together. So maybe, it wasn’t half bad.

Still, the thought of the danger their children would face, the bounty on their heads, and the potential consequences of more time lords were all daunting prospects.

Yet, despite this, they were resolute in children’s well-being, shielding them from harm and imbuing their existence with excitement and exploration for a full twenty-two years. With how much they unabashedly loved each other, it was no question they’d love their child more.

And despite not having arrived at that stage yet, the Doctor and River were devoted and promised to take all necessary measures to guarantee the safety and prosperity of their prospective children. They’d always been, in those little imaginary fairy tales and daydreams they’d have.

“Your vitals are good,” he began, ”Your nutrients are perfect, everything is perfect.” A faint grin crept onto his face, and the edges of his lips rose ever so slightly. His eyes darted towards her before settling back onto the screen before him - his undivided focus on the task at hand.

"But?” She knew the answer, an answer, really - he knew she knew - her voice was full of disappointment as her legs shook harder and she bit her lips, her head already full of questions about what was wrong with her.

“No-no,” He hushed her as he caressed her face and planted a soft kiss on her nose bridge. “Nothing’s wrong,” He knew what she was thinking. “We just need a bit more time.” He reassured her. “Look at this,” he gestured towards the screen, “This shows your cycle. Although you don't experience menstrual periods like humans, as a timelord, you still have an ovulation window.” He gently placed his hand on top of hers to offer reassurance. “If we plan it appropriately, we can get pregnant.” His glasses caught the light as he gazed into her eyes with a tender smile.

She wore a soft and gentle smile on her delicate features as she summoned all her courage to hold back a tear that threatened to spill over the edge of her cheek. Her composure hid the waves of emotions that simmered beneath the surface. Soon enough, she reverted to her playful self, quipping, “Are you suggesting we schedule shagging now? I didn't think I'd ever do that - not until I was at least 300.” 

They stared into each other's eyes. 

It truly was a problem for them, but there was just something so irresistible about one another. As their lips met, River wrapped her arms around the Doctor, pulling him closer. 

The sensation of his lips on hers was warm and gentle, and she tilted her head slightly, deepening the kiss. As she pulled away, she could see the slight surprise in his eyes, and he chuckled softly.

“Getting a little ahead of ourselves, huh, Professor?”

“Perhaps I am,” she said, a hint of mischief in her voice.  

No time like the present.

He grinned, his eyes gleaming excitedly as he scooped River into his arms, carrying his bride out of the medical bay, past the console, through the blue doors, up the stairs, down the corridor, and towards their bedroom. They couldn’t help but joke and laugh, their banter echoing through the ship and home.

Finally, reaching their bed, the Doctor laid River gently on the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. Her hand touched his chest as he leaned in for another kiss - halting him in his tracks.

“Wait,” she said, her voice soft and serious. The Doctor’s eyes widened in concern, his mind racing with all the possible things she could say next.

"What is it? Are you okay?” he asked, his hand instinctively reaching for hers.

"I just...I want you to know that I love you,” River said, her eyes locking onto his. “No matter what happens, I want you to know that.”

The Doctor’s hearts swelled and he leaned in to kiss her again. “I love you too, dear,” he whispered, his lips brushing against hers, “there was never a question about it .”

The TARDIS’s humming could extend outside the ship, she could ring throughout the house, relishing in the couple’s love as they lay in each other’s arms as if sharing joy. The gentle glow of the time rotor illuminated the room, casting a warm, orange light across their faces.

They simply lay there for a few blissful moments, content in each other’s embrace. River laid on his chest, solemnly pleased by his heartbeats as she closed her eyes - cherishing the moment. The Doctor’s fingers swam their way through her curls in awe of her hair - the most beautiful thing in the galaxy, apart from River herself.

He was fascinated by her ringlets, simply their physics were marvellous - he wondered just how long they actually were, gently pulling one curl, assuring no damage to her locks. River’s eyes softly looked up through her brows as she admired her husband.

Minutes went by, in silence - good silence, lovely silence - before she began to move her fingers on his chest, letting him know she was awake before slowly making her way to his shoulder - a few of her hairs tickling his nose as he scrunched them up under his nose like a pretend moustache. 

Pft , she let out,

“You know, you wouldn’t look so bad with a beard - maybe a goatee,” she turned to him, raising herself to meet his gaze from above, drawing her finger above his upper lip, “A moustache, nothing too much.” She smiled in amusement as she planted a soft kiss on his lips.

The Doctor held out his hand, cupping her face as she began to return to his chest.

“What do you think they’ll look like?” She longfully placed her hand above her pelvis, letting out a soft sigh as she looked at the ceiling light above their bed. The Doctor knew – he felt River’s emotion - the seething of anxiety bubbling anytime she’d think of the future - their future.

“Well, for one,” He smiled, he did his best to assure her of their true meaning as parents, happiness. “They’ll be cursed with the most luscious hair in the galaxy,” he chuckled as he gently massaged her scalp - passing through her curls in a smooth, calming fashion.

“Not to mention eyebrows, dear” She accounted, snuggled up under his arm, burying her cheek on his shoulder, and letting out another quick sigh.

“Your nose, that big smile you make when you see me in the foyer, your cheekbones,” A small tear sunk into his shirt, trailing from River’s eyes. “That tint of blush on your cheeks you always have. Oh! That face you make when you’re embarrassed, flustered, or really disappointed in me for saying something I shouldn’t have, 0r all of them.”

As he continued, her cheeks flushed. And even behind her hair, he knew her ears were burning red. She sniffled, containing her composure as she sunk into her husband. He continued to play with her hair as he did on Asgard watching Postums dance, Calderon Beta as they gazed at the stars, after Manhattan - on every tearstained entry of her diary.

“At least,” He joined her, staring at the ceiling, “We don’t have to worry about their chin.” 

River snickered, suddenly out of her solemn trance, drying her eyes with the back of her hands,

“Thank god” she replied, before the Doctor fashioned his hands around his dear wife, embracing her in a warm hug of love.

They quipped of eye colours – the golden flakes in River’s iris, the slight blue yet green, sometimes grey, in the Doctor’s gaze – The Doctor’s long, ruff fingers and his bony knuckles, River’s soft round features compared to his long heart-shaped face.

The prospect of beauty was more than the dangers could ever account for - yet, they never left. 

Those silent nights were quiet, enough for love and fear - but enough to hear a tear caught by a kiss before it could fall forgotten.

Chapter Text

River stood on the bedroom terrace. The sight of Alphonse’s restaurant in the distance. The warm and inviting lights emanating from it created an aura of joy and passion permeating the planet. 

She couldn’t help but notice the lovers on the balcony admiring the towers - it was undoubtedly the most breathtaking view in the entire galaxy.

Though far from the restaurant herself, she still enjoyed her stunning view of the monoliths, taking in every detail and savouring the moment.

 Her hands wrapped around the railing as she leaned to feel the soft breeze blow through the monuments as she listened to their faint melody. The planet’s sun had only begun setting, the warm rays like a summer evening on Earth. 

Adorned in an exquisite champagne silk robe, meticulously tailored to perfection, she had a refined and polished demeanour. 

Her luscious curls were held by an illuminating rouge wrap crafted from the same opulent fabric, creating a seamless and coordinated ensemble.

As River stood, her gaze fixated on the vast expanse of the horizon and her eyes seemed to search for answers in the distance, lost in a world of deep reflection. Evidently, her mind was wholly engrossed in contemplation, lost in her own worry. It has been months now.

“You’ll go blind if you keep staring at the sun,”

Her husband had snuck from behind her - with a downy, TARDIS blue, white-lined half-buttoned pyjama shirt, looking refined and sophisticated, and leaving it unbuttoned from his upper chest. His complementary trousers fit him perfectly and accentuated all the right places, making him look sleek and stylish - yet still cosy.

Quietly approaching her from behind, he tenderly placed his left hand on her back, guiding it down to her hip as he graciously offered her a glass of wine, then landed a kiss on his adored wife.

As he handed her the glass, she offered him a gentle smile and uttered those three little words that never failed to make his heart skip a beat:

“Thank you, Sweetie.” With her head resting against his shoulder, they stood side by side, gazing out into the vast expanse of the horizon.

It was a peaceful moment that seemed to stretch on and on, as if time had slowed down just for them. 

But as he looked at his wife, he couldn’t help but notice a certain pensiveness in her eyes, a hint of something hidden just beneath the surface. It wasn’t like the feeling he had on occasion, the sense that she knew something he didn’t.

No, this was different, something more akin to wonder and curiosity. He couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in her mind, what secrets she might be keeping from him. 

Despite his curiosity, he didn’t pry. Instead, he simply stood there, content to bask in the warmth of her presence, grateful for every moment they had together. 

After all, they had been through so much over the years, and yet here they were, still standing side by side, still in love after all this time. It was a feeling that could never be put into words, a love that transcended time and space, a bond that would never be broken.

“Rivah,” he broke out the Scottish “, why are you looking at the towers?”

In any other circumstance, the answer would be obvious - the towers of Darillium were the most beautiful monuments in this quarter of the galaxy; you are instantly hypnotised by their tune as the wind blows sweetly on the best of evenings; simply the view was mesmerising. But he knew she wasn’t looking at them - she never had, not that first night, not now. 

“Oh -” a slight flinch as she awoke from her trance, her words were slow, still formulating in her mind “I don’t know. I sometimes forget they’re there - I sometimes forget we’re here - really here.” She shook her head at her words, “Never mind - I don’t know.”

“I understand,” he replied - his words were rose petals on water, dancing on the ripples - slowly sinking in their shape, still ravishing in their descent. He spoke with her, together.

“It’s almost unreal - like a dream, but not really. As if this is my imagination - a fantasy, if you will. Like I’m living inside a computer program, an artificial reality created solely for my existence. Sometimes, I wonder if this world is just a figment of my imagination, a construct designed to keep me entertained and fulfilled. It’s a strange feeling, one that I can’t shake off.” The Doctor tried to stay still as she spoke.

"I’m sorry, sweetie. I’m just lost in thought,” she explained with remorse.

“You have no reason to apologise,” he gently uttered, turning his head towards her and angling it slightly to meet her gaze.

As their foreheads touched, a warm, comforting light radiated from their temples, enveloping them in a soothing embrace.

He sensed her emotions - all the fear and anguish, the pain she carried.

“Rivah,” he hushed, “What is it?” He didn’t want to dance around the question - he didn’t want her to question even speaking to him. Maybe it wasn’t the most appropriate thing to say, but alas, he spoke,

“It’s not like you’re pregnant,” Her body flinched at his remark, her mind now swirling with confusion and disbelief, bewildered by his words. 

“Oh - sorry,” he quickly apologised, his tone betraying a hint of remorse. “It’s just-” he paused, seemingly grappling for the right words to express his thoughts. “You drank wine - like a lot of wine” His hands opened, swaying as he spoke, like a mime being interrogated by the police. “much more than usual.”

A flicker of recognition sparked in her mind as he spoke, despite her initial reluctance to admit the truth, he had a fair point, after all.

“You even asked me for more - so you can't blame me for being concerned,” he added, rolling his shoulders, open hands and a pensive stare as he explained.

River turned to face her husband, a look of surprise etched on her face - She hadn’t expected him to notice her drinking habits, let alone be concerned about them.

“I-” she looked down at the glass before placing it on the little table to her left. “I didn’t realise I was drinking that much,” she stammered, her face glowing red. “I guess I just wanted to forget about everything for a little while.” She confessed, her head frowning as she turned her gaze not to the horizon but to the ground outside.

With a gentle touch, the Doctor placed his hand on her shoulder, conveying a sense of comfort and understanding.

“Hey,” He whispered. His eyes, filled with compassion, brought a message of support and empathy. “It’s alright, sweetie,” he comforted her. “We all have our own ways of managing stress, but you don't have to face it alone - I'm here with you, my love.”

River nodded, her heart grateful for her husband’s unwavering support and adoration - She knew she could always count on him to be there for her, no matter what.

“Thank you, sweetie,” she whispered, leaning in for a tender kiss. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” With a soft smile gracing his lips, his eyes lit up with an unmistakable expression of love and unwavering commitment.

“You’ll never have to find out,” he assured her, enfolding her tenderly in his arms.

Minutes passed, their bodies still before River exhaled deeply, her thoughts whirring.

“I feel like we’re struggling to make progress,” she admitted, her voice tinged with frustration.

The Doctor nodded, his eyes filled with empathy and understanding.

“I know it’s tough, River,” he replied. “But we’re doing the best we can. We just need time, just a little more. It will all be alright.”

She smiled, and a sense of hope washed over her. She knew that he was right.

“Thank you, my love,” she whispered.

The two emerged from the balcony, the nippy night breeze providing a welcome relief from the warm heat of the chamber. As they made their way across the bedroom, they moved lightly and cautiously, never wanting to disturb the moment’s peace.

Once they had entered the room, the Doctor carefully closed the door behind them, his eyes locking onto his beloved wife with a tender expression. 

“You and I are here together,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate. “I promise you, River, I will always be here for you. You are the most spectacular being in the universe, my bespoken bride. I will never be able to fully express to you just how much I adore you, but I will make it my life’s work to try each and every day, and night.” 

His eyes sparkled, a playful glint that only seemed to add to his charm. For River, it was as if time had stopped, and she was caught in this moment of pure happiness with the man she loved more than anything. It was a moment she would never forget, one that would remain etched in her heart and mind forevermore.

“Oh, shut up.” River grinned, knowing exactly what he meant. With a laugh, she pulled him close and kissed him deeply, eager to lose herself in the moment. Nothing else mattered but the two lost in their blissful world.

As the warm rays of late noon sunshine streamed through the window, he woke up and glanced at the clock. It had been almost 15 hours since they had fallen asleep. 

He turned his head to spotted River stirring beside him, snuggled into the soft, roomy red sheets, seeking comfort as she nestled her head into the pillow. A grin spread across his face as he gazed at the serene scene, grateful for this tranquil moment.

2 hours passed before her limbs grew heavy, waking up and stretching languidly.  “Morning,” murmured River, her voice still thick with sleep. Her gaze fell on him, and she smiled, taking in his haggard appearance. “You look exhausted,” she remarked.

His eyes were bleary but filled with warmth as they met hers. He held a small white book in his left hand, his right still under his wife,

“I am,” he admitted ruefully, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. River propped herself up on one elbow and regarded him intently. 

“Do you want to go to bed?” she laughed, crawling towards him, the sheets still entangling her body.

He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“No,” He clicked his tongue on his upper teeth, “I don’t think so. I much rather stay here,” he said, his gaze flickering over her face. 

Her chin rubbed against his arm as she snuggled into his embrace. Her breasts brushed against his forearm as she lay her head on his shoulder. 

“Why not?” she asked, her voice soft and husky as she leaned to kiss his cheek.

“I’m not tired enough,” The Doctor replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’d rather stay awake and watch you sleep.”

She laughed, the sound of it ringing clearly in the quiet room, before kissing him again.

“Psycho.” She added as she further snuggled into his shoulder and chest.

“Flirt.”

They laid there for a few minutes, wrapped in each other’s embrace, the warmth of their bodies mingling in the cocoon of their bedroom. He watched her chest rise and fall with each breath, her skin glistening with sweat from the warmth. He reached to touch her hair, his fingers trailing through the silken strands. 

“I love you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her cheek.

River’s voice was barely above a whisper as she snuggled closer to her husband, “I love you too.” 

His hand reached down and took hers, holding it tightly as she drifted asleep, followed a few hours later by the Doctor succumbing to her pleas for rest. 

The afternoon was peaceful and quiet as they rested, not stirring until the sun’s light filtered through the timed window in the morning. The gentle light of dawn filtered through the half-open blinds, casting a warm glow across the room. 

The Doctor breathed a deep sigh of content, feeling the soft sheets and his wife against his skin. His eyes met River’s, and they shared a smile. He ran his hand through his unruly hair, gathering his thoughts before turning to her. 

She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and he couldn’t help but marvel at her grace and strength.

He turned to her, his eyes filled with curiosity. “Rivah, my love, do we have any plans for today?”

River, still half asleep, shrugged and smiled. 

“No, not really,” she said, “I was thinking of maybe going for a walk by the market or just lounging in the garden. What about you?”

The Doctor’s grin widened, excitement visible in his eyes. “I was thinking, we could take the TARDIS for a spin. She’s been quiet for 2 weeks now, I was thinking we could celebrate? No town to save or sheep farm to shepard?”

“Yeah, that was a weird one.” She nodded with an expression a mix of horror and confusion at whatever the hell that was about. “I’d be happy to challenge this idea that we could actually go on a nice, no danger date.” She leaned in to kiss him, her lips soft and warm against his.

Her fingers ran through his ringlets as the two mesmerised at the Eight Bows of Herlax, an ecological phenomenon in the pre-cross pollination age of the deserted sand planet. For three hundred and four years the planet had been in a drought, not a single drop of rain had seen the parched clay - until that mesmerising afternoon. River sat with her legs open, her back leaning on the TARDIS, her husband’s head in her lap, his body lying on the ground - watching the sky.

“So when does it happen?” River asked, head tilted down to match his gaze. 

“Very soon,” He responded, “Although, it would make it relatively easier to tell if it weren’t for the TARDIS’s shield.”

“I’d rather wait than risk you getting hurt,” She kissed his temple with a smile.

“Says the woman who murdered me.” He replied, sarcastically judging his wife. 

“You asked for it.” He couldn’t think of a response, that was practically the way he proposed to River.

“I love you” he looked up to see her smirk, we watched her as she looked at him in tenderness and confusion. 

“What’s up with you and all this sentimentality? Not that I’m complaining,” She did that little stare where she darts her eyes away and raises her eyebrows, only to meet his gaze once more, “I love you too, sweetie.” she shuffled herself, positioning her shoulders on the TARDIS as she patiently watched the fields.

“I’m not sure,”

River was caught off guard by her husband’s answer, she didn’t expect him to reply to her question. It was meant as one of those one-off questions he never has the heart to respond to, but, she guessed, he wasn’t the same Doctor. 

“I think I regret never having said it before,” tears enveloped her eyes, “Never at you at least. But, like I've said before, I can’t go back and change that, not with this face that is, so I’m making up for it now.” 

She stared at the fields, her vision flooded under the saline rushing down her cheeks. Her face was red, her mouth slightly open, held together by the dryness of her lips as they latched onto one another.

He’d explained himself a few times this past year, somewhat irritatingly, but more than that, charming. But she’d never taken it seriously since it became repetitive in those first months, she regretfully tuned it out at times. But it’d been half a year since the last time he’d said it, and, also, half a year since they’d begun trying. Somehow, this time, it felt so much more real.

Maybe it was his tone of voice, his guilt only present, drowned out by the overwhelming love he’d been trying to convey.

One tear made its way to the Doctor’s shoulder as he rested between his wife, rambling about her beauty and grace, his immeasurable astonishment when she stepped into a room, how his hearts beat with utter force and his blood reeled when she touched his face. 

There was something so unreal about his words. She knew, always in the back of her hearts, he loved her. And she knew more than anything she loved him. But that first time he said it, so long ago, but like it was yesterday – she was the woman he loved, and nothing could ever change that. 

That night in Stormcage was the first real time she saw his true and pure love. When he raced down from his box, crying her name despite being only a few feet away. Unadulterated joy in his eyes as she peered back and walked to the still open entrance. And that kiss. Oh, what a kiss. That’s the night she learned he’d always loved her, he was simply scared to love. It was also the night the curse was broken, somewhat. 

Younger Doctors would come here and there; the Byzantium, Scarves, Celery, a tub in 5142. But more than that was her Doctor, the one who knew everything about her just as she did him. And in came more adventures, more dates, more kisses, and more tragedy. There came his promise to go to Darillum, several Christmases with the Ponds, and the Ponds alone, until the Ponds were gone. And there she was, still in time as he ran away, and the curse returned.

He turned himself, sitting in front of her solemn face, her flushed cheeks inside his hands. He didn’t speak, he just listened as the corners of her mouth rose, and her eyebrows made their way down. 

In silence, she grabbed him, arms over his shoulders, squeezing him as she sobbed, his hands on her upper and lower back as she embraced him. The Doctor caressed her back as he listened to her hearts beating out in adoration, and she listened to him in unison.

And so came the rain, forgotten by the two as she cloaked them inside her shield, the blue box kept them undisturbed as the sun sparked in alluring colours. It darted the ground as the first drops of rain the planet had witnessed. And for miles, only beauty could be seen. 

But to the Doctor, beauty lay in his arms.

Chapter Text

Holiday was right around the corner, literally. River locked up her room, fumbling to balance the flux of papers and folders stacked in her arms. Attempting to find her pocket in her long white coat, her vision slightly impaired by her ‘freshly’ knit scarf, seemingly having to squat and stretch backwards, finally, putting away her keys and rising. She took her open hand and dusted herself off, standing tall with poise and walked down the dimly lit corridor.

The dark, glistening wooden floors spoke as the heels of her boots clashed against them. She made her way to the door to her left of the intersecting hallways. It was just like her door – simple and brown, with a square glass window obstructed by closed shades from the inside, bold black text read “Dr. Smith'' – yet, where River’s door had her title as the school’s chief Archaeological professor and her office hours, the Doctor’s door was left blank.

The door faced River’s back as she knocked with her right heel.  A quiet humming came from inside before opening. There he sat, left hand placing the blue screwdriver down before returning it to cover his tired face. He was hunched over a stack of papers, his right hand on his forehead, pushing back his hair. 

“I thought it didn’t work on wood.” River kicked the door close before placing her dreaded work on a desk of the lecture hall.. 

“Lock it,” he ordered, much to River’s humour, smirking.

“The handle’s metal.” He answered with delay, not looking up to speak. River had a scrunched look of confusion as she walked towards him. She was too tired to ask. 

“How much longer have you got?”

“A bit.” That wasn’t much of an answer. Relative time isn’t a strong suit of the Doctor. ‘A bit’ was either 5 seconds or 5 hours. 

River sighed, sucking at her inner cheek and looking up to the ever growing number of taped up post notes 12 feet up on the otherwise barren white ceiling .  “So you won’t mind if I hitch a ride without you?” 

“Sure.” She hated it when he’d only talk in one-word answers. 

She paced with her arms crossed slowly in a circle in front of his desk, observing him, all his attention on whatever he was reading. She made her way back, still cross and confused. 

“What are you working on? You never give your student’s exams?” She peered over him, lowering herself. Before she could begin reading, the Doctor swiftly snatched them, tidying them and placing them backside up on the desk. 

Not a word, River simply looked at him, then the papers, at him once more as she uncrossed her arms and proceeded to reach for the stack. 

The Doctor once again pulled the papers away, sitting up in a rush, his chair rolling back and crashing against the wall. As he fumbled for his keys, River quickly made her way around the desk. 

As she stood at his side, once again trying to peek at the papers in his hand, he turned to her, walking backwards. He was visibly worried as she scrunched up her face in part anger and part worry.

“What’s with the papers?” She walked like a jungle cat hunting its prey. Removing her scarf and menacingly wrangling it around her hand. 

“What papers?” 

She only stood still to his response, giving the Doctor an unimpressed look before continuing to walk his way up the rows of seats. 

“Is it something embarrassing? Did you print something out you don’t want me to see?” Her hand on a railing as she continued her pursuit.  “I can’t – I won’t judge you, sweetie. You’ve seen my collection of literature. You can’t really impress a girl from the 52nd century in that department.” She simpered, yet still very concerned.

“Just a couple of really horrendous reports on Newtonian exhibits in the south quadrant of Pluto II.” He was trying to throw her off the scent, of course, to no effect. Two things the Doctor’s awful at under real pressure from his wife: flirting and lying.

“Your field trip was 5 cycles ago, and I distinctly remember the waiver stating ‘I promise you will not be assigned anything after this field trip, I simply want you all to accompany me as I argue with the Issac Newton hologram about centripetal forces.’” And what a disappointing argument it was. As a matter of fact, the museum had shut down the hologram’s responsive intelligence, only answering with simple equations of force and simple ‘yes’ and ‘no’s. “Try again.”

River looked at her husband, one hand on the railing, the other latching onto his papers. She sighed, looking into his eyes as she put on her scarf and crossed her arms.  

“You don’t have to tell me.” It was sincere, but she couldn’t hide her frustration. He watched her walk down, hand in her pocket as she reached for her keys. 

He opened his mouth, before closing it as she doubled back to see his face. He was still bad with his words, that’d never change. 

Finally, after an overdramatic gulp, “River,” she couldn’t help but light up when he called her name.

Yet trying to hide her anticipation, she straightened her posture as she was reclaiming her stack of work. “Mhm?” He didn’t like murmurs, she knew that, but she was cross. 

Avoiding eye contact, he handed her the papers, still backside up. Much to his chagrin, her arms were once again crossed, she looked at him, eyebrows raised as she awaited his words. But when none came, River rolled her eyes and took his offer. 

“Are you sure?” She played coy with him, hiding her grin as he signed off.

River sat where she’d placed her folders, playing like a pompous noble reading a decree from the king himself. The Doctor sat next to her as she turned the page to their front and began reading,

“The earliest sign of pregnancy is a missed period for women who have a regular monthly menstrual cycle. Sometimes, implantation bleeding can occur. You may also begin experiencing a handful of the symptoms below early on in your pregnancy, such as fatigue, nausea or …”

Once again, her face was as bright as a lantern in a storm. She was beaming as she turned to look at her husband. She couldn’t think of anything to say. That’s a lie, she had something to say, but it wasn’t funny. She felt so vulnerable at that moment, her heart tensed up, and her face flushed, “Human pregnancy?” What else can a girl do but make a joke?

“I,” He paused, thinking of what the right conversation was to be had at that moment. “Um, I just wanted to brush up on my knowledge of… pregnancies.” He looked down at his hands clasped together atop his legs. “Checking on the - uh,” She caught his tongue. “The uh, first signs of… yup.” Even after all these years, he was like putty when she was around, especially when she sat like that – all poise as dignity, examining the composer of his breath. 

“Oh?” It was a cheeky oh , she raised her eyebrows and adjusted herself in her seat, her legs crossed. “And why is that?” She admired his care of her, how he tended to her every day and night, and just how much he loved her. 

“I just wanted to see if… maybe you aligned with some of the symptoms.” She grinned.

“Is that it? Well,” She handed him back the papers, standing up and dusting herself off once again. “You do like spoiling surprises for yourself, don’t you?”

He jolted his head to meet, eyes wide with joy at her soft smile from ear to ear. 

No words were said, none were needed. It was a smirk of disbelief and ‘ I knew it!’ simultaneously. The Doctor quickly got up, forgetting the papers , he thought, throwing them back before he held River by her waist with his arms, lifting her and spinning her as he kissed her.

Time spun so quickly in that moment, their kiss was made of their smiles as they embraced each other.

“How long!?” He was ecstatic, continuing to peck her face with kisses while his hands trekked her curls and he spoke.

She couldn't stop chuckling.

“Two days,” she loved his little kisses on her cheeks and neck. She loved his lust but adored his joy more than anything.

“Ooh, Rivah,” he held her head like he did with his previous face. With those eyes of amusement and those beating hearts full of excitement. “How could you?” 

She knew he was joking, he could never be mad with that grin and those eyes.

“I truly am sorry, sweetie.” Her eyes shined with delight. “If it makes it any better, I was planning on surprising you tonight.”

“Oh, it certainly does!” 

He hugged her, like, really hugged her, with all the love in the world, once again, lifting her, just a little, and kissing her smile. She couldn’t help but laugh.

River sat on one of the audience desks, “Are you going to be like this the whole time?” He was back at it, kissing her neck, ears, and just below her jaw. “We’re already pregnant, no need to make another,” River nudged her shoulder, signalling him to break away. “Home?” It’s not like she was annoyed, quite the opposite in fact. Simply, River was ready to leave. 

“Why Professor ,” He knew his effect on her, “You’ve never opposed our,” The Doctor actively searched for words with Rs , “ recreations before. ”

Son of a bitch.

“No,”  She swallowed. Was the shake in her spine obvious? She pressed her right index finger against his lips, “But, the sooner we’re home, the sooner…”

River had stretched her arm back and retrieved two of the papers the Doctor had previously thrown without concern.

She held them with both hands, covering her face. All the Doctor could see were her eyes and up, the rest hiding behind some well-intended readings, of a somewhat self-preserving nature.

It was a nice article, in fact, they were subscribed to this medical journal. Then again, the TARDIS had a membership with over 44 million magazines (that had a miraculous way of making their way into already overstocked junk rooms on the ship).

Your guide to intimacy, trimester-by-trimester

“Just how much research did you do?” 

“Enough?”

“Not even close.” River made a quick hop off the desk, the ground was already so close to her heels.

Everything happened so quickly.

She began to walk down the aisle, pausing to turn her head back, “Come on, get your things.”

“Right behind you!”

Once again fumbling with her pocket, River found her TARDIS key, effectively calling the blue box.

Unsurprisingly though, the two women waited for the Doctor for what felt like an eternity.

He scrambled to ensure the safekeeping of all his research .

“For god’s sake, leave it!”

“I can’t, River!”

“The mess is no problem. Just clean it before the end of the holiday.”

“That’s not it,” he waved his bony finger, forgetting she was waiting for him by his desk rather than with him still in the audience.

“Do I have to guess?” If he were looking at him, she’d have turned him to stone.

“Well, sweetie, what if someone discovers you’re pregnant, hmm?” He was getting cocky, more than usual.

“People will probably figure it out, give them 4 to 5 months”

“I mean – someone else, or something we probably don't want to invite over for tea?” His overly sarcastic tone at the end was starting to get on her nerves.

“Oh come on! You’ve known for, what? 30 minutes? And you’re already so concerned?” River crossed her arms, “I’m impressed,” she continued.

The Doctor peered from under the desks, visibly confused and amused.

“I would have put my money on 10 minutes after dinner before you’d be baby-proofing the TARDIS.”

“Dinner?” He finally joined her by the blue door, having already locked the room door, stack of papers in hand.

“That was the plan,” she smirked, “until someone here couldn't take my advice to avoid spoilers.”

“Well,” He watched her eyes through her brow bone, swaying his arms on her hips, “Is dinner still on the table?” 

A slight hesitation.

“ Metaphorically?” He was never good with her innuendos. Better, but not good.

“And literally, I don't trust you to cook anything considerably edible. For a baby or otherwise.”

“Rude.” He teased. “One second,” He turned back to his desk, unlocking a drawer with his sonic and placing the papers, unified by a blue paper clip, atop another set of documents titled ‘T.D.E.’

He returned to her, holding her hand.

The blue doors opened.

Still, River thought, I’m glad he figured it out for himself.

She watched him eat. She’d always asked herself why rich people had such long dining tables, only to sit on opposite ends. 

Instead, rather than goblets and dishes between the lovers, there was a lone delicate pink candle with a golden candlestick. 

“So,” he swallowed and River blinked to escape her trance, “how did you know?”

“Well, three days ago, I went to Zazz for a quick errand to the tailor’s, I fell quite ill when we landed, like I was about to puke my guts out. Nevertheless, I ignored it and went on with my day. And when I returned to the TARDIS, I was greeted by the surprisingly grotesque stench of steamed aubergine, which I've never turned down— But, just as I did before, I paid it no though. Instead, I made my way to the liquor cabinet, let’s not talk about it, which was surprisingly locked. Someone was really trying to get my attention.”

Even behind the white doors of the subverting closet, the TARDIS could hear her daughter loud and clear, humming in response to River leaning in her chair to face the doors.

“Admittingly, it took much more convincing to finally take the hint. But, eventually, I made my way to the medical bay, where the ole girl met me for an ultrasound.”

River reached to hand the Doctor a small photograph. 

“It’s still young so I can't tell you much, plus, she wouldn’t let me look at the monitor for too long. So, I can’t tell you much other than we’re either having twins or a timelord.”

River returned to her plate. He just smiled.

This wasn't real, I mean, it was real, of course, but it didn’t feel real. It was too perfect. But was that so bad? Perfect? Peace? A quiet, domestic life? Having a steady job together they enjoyed? Coming home to one another? The universe in their closet? The world on the palm of their hand and wedding bands on their fingers? He didn’t know the answer, neither did she. 

Still, it was nice. No question about it.

Yet, an ambiguity lingered. It'd been months of planning and devicing, and still, it was all so, off the cuff. It didn’t feel confusing or concerning, it wasn’t a security threat or risk to time. They didn’t really question the whole timelord/proto-timelord/child-of-the-TARDIS baby situation, it all just felt, right. But the question still remained, what did this mean? What would it mean for the universe? 

But did they have to have an answer now? It’d be the right thing to do, but not tonight.

Chapter Text

If you think about it, people don’t take that long to make, in most species actually. 

Folkna’s lay eggs and incubate for 2 months, raxis take 5. For sern, their gestation lasts around 6 months, for humans it’s 9 and it usually takes around a year and a half for a baby russe to be born. But for those with a temporal imbalance, it’s more difficult to calculate, especially with no proper text or research to go off in an examination.

All that can be told, without too much inspection, is that a Gallifreyan or Time Lord or Proto Time Lord child is not unlike most other large mammals, which is off putting to say.

 For one, mother’s usually have one at a time, with the rare occurrence of twins and triplets, ect. Secondly, they’re quite like humans and nostrovines and all general ‘human-y’ species in their composition. 

In terms of genetic inheritance, a lion best recognizes his other faces, past and future. The unique biodata of a parent is passed along to their child as DNA is passed down to be a blueprint for life. While a child may not look like their parent at that moment, it's not to say they did not take forth the physicalities of another place in time.

The issue that plagues most working families comes with an understanding of how long this could take, and that falls all to the decision of the baby, however long they believe– relative to the time around them– they should ‘cook’, so it’s expected a mother stays in the same place throughout the pregnancy. 

River had been staying home for the past two days, finally persuaded by her husband’s tall talk. The only food she could keep down were lightly salted biscuits and flavoured elo-carbonated drinks, even the taste and smell of water made her nauseous. By the third time she had to excuse herself from a lecture, she knew it was time to go home. 

Nardole had been helping around as he did. It was nice to have company while the Doctor was away. Usually, Nardole would wait in the sitting room with a book or knitting when she needed space; he had to put his culinary endeavours aside for River’s sake and their collective sanity.

Early in the afternoon, the Doctor came rushing home. He’d kept the TARDIS at the house in case of emergency, which he’d begun to regret. He hitched a ride with another professor, passing by a corner shop for some tea on the way. Everyone they knew was sending their well wishes and blessings for River’s health.

Before he got through the door, the Doctor dropped his bag of tea boxes and ran to the squelching sound coming from their bathroom on the first floor. 

She was hunched over the toilet bowl, Nardole held her hair off her shoulders with his right hand and stroked it with the other.

"Oh perfect, the husband's here."

"Nardole," He rolled his eyes as they traded spots, "I'm home, honey," He cooed her as he stroked her back.

"I'm fine," River sat up, cleaning her mouth with a piece of toilet paper. She turned to Nardole, “I thought you didn’t have time to call him.”

“I didn’t.” 

“Call me? Why’d you try to call me? Is everything alright?”

“I said I’m fine.”

"She's thrown up three times in the past 5 hours, she is not fine." 

"Nardole." She stared at him with eyes like a raging bull.

"Yeesh, sorry." Nardole raised his arms in defence, turning around, "I'll be in the kitchen when you need me, I’m getting my ear plugs on so don’t come yelling for me."

"Thank you." They both hailed, yet not annoying, rather, truly grateful. The Doctor had separated Nardole and Ramone a few years ago, they too were eternally grateful for the couple's kindness. They were still working at Alphonse's, which had only been growing since its opening. The two men had finally grown accustomed once more to not sharing a body.

River spat what vile remained in her mouth out on the bowl before flushing it down. River stood up and took a deep breath and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, trying to shake off the wave of nausea and motion sickness that was crashing in her core

“You look like you’re dying,” The Doctor joked, continuing to sooth his wife, as they make their way to the sink. “Is it still as bad?”

“It’s like a never ending hangover.” River confessed, “I can’t even hold down water.”  She turned on the faucet, splashing cool water on her face, hoping that it would help her regain her composure. But no matter how much water she splashed on her face, she couldn't shake off the dizziness that clouded her mind.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” He rummaged his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp, “I bought some things. But I don't know if you even have the appetite for water biscuits.”

“Please don’t bring food near me.” RIver groaned, exiting the washroom. As she stood at the door well she regained her balance and took as much of a deep breath that she could take before feeling it in her stomach, she was just grateful to be out of the stench in the room. “I just want this to be over.”

“There has to be something I can do, I’m not going to let you keep on working like this.” He placed his hand on her lower back. 

She had told him numerous times to stop treating her like a porcelain doll, she was over all that from back in her youth. But at the same time, she couldn’t dare tell him to stop. Yes, because he helped ease the pain and made everything so much easier, but mostly, she dared to think, it was because he wasn’t taking care of her like a fragile bauble that could easily fall from the tree and break. He wasn’t watching the shiny ornament at every moment like a lion watched a gazelle, ensuring his dinner didn’t break her leg as she pranced through the savanna. He didn’t care for her the way an antique shop owner polishes his music box everyday but doesn’t dare touch the dancer or turn her handle. He was more like a jacket, and she wore him on her shoulders. But it wasn’t because he was some sort of doormat or bootlicker, for she too would be a jacket if she could. But for now, he was there to keep her warm when she needed it.

“I’m not even working right now,”

“But when you go back what will you do?”

“I’ll figure it out then.”

“River,”

“Fine, yes, I know, I have to sort this out now. I’m sorry, it’s a lot of stress.” She settles into some pillows on the bed.

“I understand, and I’m always here to do anything and everything you need.”

“Ugh, stop being so mushy, it’s disgusting.”

“Who can blame me when my-”

“You are so fulsome, stop it!”

“Does the pain go away when you laugh?”

“Not at all, it feels like my stomach is being drilled from the inside. But it helps me forget about it.”

“Well-”

“If you say laughter is the best medicine one more time, I will strangle you.”

“Don’t let me stop you.”

“Flirt. How’s work?”

“Same old, same old. Everyone’s wishing you well. Professor A’vart is covering your class. I think well, I wouldn’t know. Aside from that, nothing’s really changed. Oh! One of your students gave me this to give to you. Young girl, blue hair, goes down to about yay long. I’m guessing it’s some sort of report or something. She seemed in a hurry so I couldn’t tell her that you were on rest.”

“No, no, it’s a collection of…” She paused for a second, the smile had so quickly disappeared and her eyes were protruding out, “...stories.”

“Stories?”

She nodded, licking her licks as she did, “stories.”

“Honey, I don’t-”

“Let’s just leave it at that.”

“Okay?”

River turned around to fluff a silk pillow and posture it up, propping another to the middle of the bed to elevate her legs. She rested, laying down with a sigh of pure relief. She pressed the back of her head on the pillow, sinking into the bed with a wash of ecstasy for comfort. He’d stayed by her side, if that were ever a question, caressing her temple, moving away her hair as she smiled.

“It’ll give me something to do while I rest,” She looked through the papers, which looked like a manuscript. 

“Well, if you-'' There was a rubbing, a vibration under the floor. Not like an earthquake, more like when you put your phone on silent. No other noises either, just the rubbing, like the house was hungry. Like a meerkat, the Doctor raised his neck and posture, alarmed, probably.  And suddenly, it was gone. Before he could do his whole ‘What? Huh? But-’ spiel, she stopped him, “Right,” she snapped her fingers, “that’s what Nardole was going to talk to you about.”

River got off the bed, balancing with her hand on the nightstand. “The alarm,” she continued, “I don’t know which one, it doesn’t go off for long enough to tell. It’s been just popping in and out. And each time, the doors are locked. When I can finally turn the lock and open it, it’s too late, and the beeping stops. Actually, it’s not beeping, it’s never beeping, just the vibrations.” She walked downstairs, hand gripping the railing, with her husband worryingly walking behind her in case she fell or some other nightmare of his.

“Nardole?” River stood in her nightgown, in the middle of the front aisle of the house by the kitchen knock through, the rest of the passage leading to the open dining and living rooms. 

“Sorry, ma’am,” His voice came from the open closet that housed the TARDIS. “Gone again.”

“Of course it is.” River stomped to the console.

The Doctor leaned to Nardole as they both just watched her take over, running diagnostics on the computers, “So,”  He said, “has it been like this all day?”

“Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“Well, it really began after morning tea, but technically the first time was around an hour after you left.”

“And you didn’t care to inform me?”

“I did! Just never got to it.”

“BOYS!” River called them, turning over the screen to show them.

“Never not like her mother, ey.” Nardole nudged the Doctor with a grin.

“Shut up.” He replied in irritation.

“What’s that supposed to be?” Nardole asked River, hiding from the Doctor’s daggered eyes. On the screen was a series of settings and code for the ship.

“The TARDIS’ protocols.” River turned it back to her, “All day it’s been some sort of vibrations that last less than a minute, and the door’s been locked. It’s not the same system as before, no sirens or lights, just shaking. There’s no pattern, nothing I can discern from the time signatures. And as Nardole tried an hour or so ago, it won’t go off if someone is inside.”

“Just rumbling?” The Doctor assured.

“It feels like there’s some rocket being tested for liftoff,” Nardole laughed, the Doctor and River just turned to one another.

“And when you say the doors are locked?” The Doctor asked.

“It’s like when it’s in flight!” Nardole answered.

“Boom.” He snapped his fingers, the two of them just watched him in confusion. “Don’t worry about it.”

“So, the TARDIS is going in flight, but never dematerialising?” Nardole asked, “How does that make sense?

“It doesn’t.” River replied. She’d become pessimistic about the idea. Whatever it was, it wasn’t some unknown pilot, she’d know.

“Except?” 

“Except nothing, it doesn’t make sense. The TARDIS needs to dematerialise to go in flight, and it’s stayed here the whole day.”

“What if someone was trying to sneak it out?” The Doctor countered, the three of them just looked at each other. 

“Like trying to sneak out in the family car!” They then turned their gazes to Nardole,  “What? I watch movies.”

“No matter. Yes, like that. The question is,” The Doctor turned his head around, scouring the area with his eyes, “Who?”

“Like there’s someone else inside the TARDIS right now ?” 

“Exactly,”

“ Not exactly.” River interrupted, “ That wouldn’t set off such a short term alarm. She’d warn us if someone else were flying her, yes. But they wouldn’t be turned off so quickly.”

“But are we even  sure it’s an alarm?” The Doctor contested.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, are we sure it’s not the sound of the TARDIS leaving?” He nudged his head to point to the shut off brakes with his chin.

“Okay, fair, I should have thought of that earlier.” She conceded to the hypothesis, “But it’s not the most reasonable of solutions. Not that it is a solution. It's not- nevermind,” She shook off a thought. “It wouldn’t make sense that there is someone else in the TARDIS right now, at least someone we don’t know, we’d know. ”

“Do you know if anyone else is here?” Nardole turned his head to both of them, one then the other.

“No?” They answered simultaneously, with questioning looks to one another.

“I mean,” He stretched his hands out defensively as he did, swivelling his head to the side and raising his shoulders, River only giving him a stern look in response. “I’m not going to deny the chances that someone or something… or some several people made their way here ages ago and we both forgot and now they're lost, at that point it’s not my fault.”

River shook her head, “Doesn’t matter, still doesn't explain anything if someone were here.” She repeated.

“So?” Nardole asked.

“I DON’T KNOW!” She snapped in a rage, smashing her hand down on the metal, the noise alone left them all knowing it would bruise. “I’m-” She took a deep breath, feeling her spine shake as she did, and cracking the tension in her neck, “I’m sorry.” She finally let out after a sigh, rubbing her temple in frustration for her actions. “We’re just going in circles at this point.”

There was a slight shine on the ground behind River, a small metal trinket on the floor. The Doctor peered back to watch it.

“Okay, let’s just get everything straight: a) periodic activations of some unknown alarm system, b) locking from the inside, c) stays put.” River began pacing about. When she wasn’t looking, the Doctor squatted down swiftly to retrieve the shining device. She continued, “It’s not trying to get in, nor is it trying to get out,”

“Or leave.” Nardole added.

“Or leave.” River stood still, thinking. “But,” Her brows went pensive, but before she could finish she shut her mouth and her lips went flat.

“But what?” Intried Nardole, looking at the TARDIS’s protocols himself.

“It’s nothing, wouldn’t have worked.” She nudged off the thought. “I’m just tired, not thinking straight. It’d be best  if I got some more rest, I’m going upstairs.” River smiled, leaving.

As she walked up, there was this rippling in her core. It could have been the nausea, probably was more than anything else, but it was also fear. Fear is normal, she was used to fear. It’s a key to survival, fight-or-flight and all that. But this fear, it was the special fear that always came from being in a Doctor-present-area. Not just him, but his trace. It was everything: her family, the places they’d visited before, her own cell. Everything he left was almost as good as him, and her mind responded to it the same way. With fear. Fear or anxiety or whatever you might call that feeling like your core is hollow but your nerves are tingling. Guilt, possibly. Irrational in nature, but still apparent. 

She wasn’t Professor River Song, assassin, astronaut, novelist and archeologist when he was around, she was River. And River felt fear in her hearts about how she was, how she was seen, what she said. Even as a teenager, she was never this worried. But somehow, no matter how long it’s been, him and her, it still bubbles up everytime she leaves the room. And it wasn’t just with him, but everything else. The people, the places, her .

Why am I acting out like this? This isn’t normal, not this early, right? I should know this. Why don’t I know this? I need to actually pick up a book and do something with my time rather than be subject to my failing body– Not failing, wait. This can’t be how it feel, right? I mean, if I’m like this, what are other women going through? And how do they do it so easily? 

As she entered the room, it could have only been felt, or quite the opposite. When River walked in the room, she did so through the right of the two doors, the other one closed, so close in distance was the bed, all red and silky, but when she walked she didn't. Or she did. She knew she did. At least she thought so. It was so calm, so soothing, her entrance. Limb by limb, fingers and toes then arms and legs until it wasn’t even her head but her chest, maybe, gone, until it too disappeared from brain’s awareness. But she made it to the bed, that can be said. And she tucked herself back in, the blanket enveloping her in joy she could and could not feel. And a few minutes later, her eyes shut, her mind gone asleep, she could have sworn his touch awoke her, or rather the sense of his touch on her forehead, his presence, the warmth. So quiet, so soothing, all good now.

Chapter Text

“Stop it!” River laughed, nudginging the Doctor off nuzzling her neck like a charming cat, “I'm trying to work.”

“You have a substitute for that,” he rebutted, his kisses tracing down to her collarbone.

“ You don't,” she slightly shifted her frame to him. The Doctor had knelt down on one knee next to her chair, caressing the palm of her hand as she spoke, “shouldn't you be off now?” 

“Well,” he sounded perturbed, shocked, slightly attacked. River couldn't tell if he was joking or how he truly felt. “Kicking me out already? Your own husband? The light of your life?” He flicked his hand to his chest.

“And the bane of my existence,” River gently pushed his face away in jest, laughing as she did.

The Doctor stood up, taking her hand once more as he did and kissing its back. He pecked River’s cheek, smiling, “Always.”

He took back to the cherished side of her neck, resting his chin on the nook of her shoulders. River leaned her head on his, sighing. He ran his hand down to her stomach, feeling to see if her bump had changed in the past 3 hours. “But maybe not as much as them.” He smirkingly suggested, feeling tiny, soft kicks against the palms of his hands. 

“She learned to kick and I don't think she's ever planning to stop.”

“The baby's a girl today?”

“A feisty one at that.”

“Like her mother.” He smiled.

“No, her mother likes to sleep.” River humphed, “With all her restlessness, I don't have much of a choice but use my never ending waking hours to work. Now leave me.”

Not wanting to cause his charm to be the reason for her future annoyance, he settled to no fight her dry plea, but not before putting a curl behind her ear and kissing the right of her temple as she smiled. 

“Thank you.” River said as he left, keeping the door to the study open as he walked through its frame.

“Shout if you get in trouble.” He jest, walking to the sitting room and resuming to play an electric guitar he’d bought and adjusted in 1985 to be silent on command. Well, silent to the ears. But to the mind, it was lovely.

It wouldn’t have been a surprise for River to know he lied to her, rule one and all that. But he’d let her to believe he too was hard at work on reports and lectures, months of overdue exams. In actuality he was falling back on said lecture and exams, whatever curriculum he supposedly taught was severely delayed for the semester. But to him it didn’t matter, after all, it kept her quiet. Not in a ‘not letting her speak’ kind of quiet, but ‘not worried and sound’ kind of quiet. He was there when he needed her, but she wasn’t suspicious of it. Like how a cat desires affection but is not accepting of it. River just needed that support, with no fret that he was undermining her strength of thinking little of her and being plainly sympathetic.

That night they were laying on the bed, he’d pressed his ear to her abdomen trying to feel them, River and the child. She laughed, knowing she’d only smile back to these memories when he’d leave. 

Not that it was often, though. Well, no more often than usual. Actually, that depends on what you call usual. Because you could say that on average he’d leave her for a span of 10~13 months, give or take. But not here. 

No, he’d never leave their home. But, of course, errands have to be run and work needs to be done, so I can’t judge him for his disappearances, not that she’d call them that. Plus, it’s fundamental in any relationship to be your own person, have your own life, not share every scene with your person. That was something they’d always been thinking– independently–, never stopped thinking. That I’ve never stopped thinking. 

Aside from all the other stories she’d tell. 

Because the stories will stay with you, the thoughts will haunt you. Ironically, it’s the other way round for him. Silly.

Being around halfway there was exhausting, but never a dull moment. 

“Will they ever go to sleep?” The Doctor joked, snickering in pride.

“Still going at it?” River questioned, amusingly, moving herself up on her pillow and lifting her shirt to watch her stomach slightly move.

Smiling as she looked down, her husband’s face turned to hers in concern. “You didn’t notice?”

“Wasn’t watching,” She calmly expressed.

“You can't feel the kicking?”

“No?” She lifted her head to him. Their faces didn't show it, but their eyes, oh their eyes, fear. “I thought that was a Time Lord thing.” Panic. “That the lining of my abdomen or my nerves weren't as delicate. Like an evolutionary advantage? I just chucked it up to be a perk of the pregnancy, like how my mum was only really sick at the beginning and end.”

“That was because of Kovarian. Amy’s neurorelay of her real body was purposely not in sync to her Flesh. She should have still been in that pain, she just didn't notice.” He explained, “ And, it wasn't like it was just the pain that was gone. The sickness, nausea, general effects of the hormonal changes; it was all gone for the majority of Amy’s…” The Doctor looked at her. River was neither overly concerned nor unbothered by the information, rather, she was just listening. She wasn't too provoked by it all. “Is that how you've felt?”

“Recently, yes.” River confessed.

“Recently?” 

“Well,” She shrugged, admitting, “you saw me. I was a mess. Whatever I was going through didn't make sense for a ‘ human-y’ ” She propped her fingers for air quotes, “couple of months. So I assumed,” there was guilt in her words and her face, shunning her sight from the Doctor, “my body learned and… I don't know. Evolved?”

“I see…River,” he shushed sweetly, consolingly cupping and brushing his thumb on her shoulder. 

“No, I should have known. That's one of the benefits of having tracked you down all those years at Luna, made the few lectures I attended worthwhile. I did so much research on Time Lords and Gallifrey. Your medicine, anatomy, physiology, all mostly to then put to terms with my own body. Which only helped so much considering my biology.” It was such a minor fault of memory, but it felt like her whole life had been wasted. Not just for the study, but who she fundamentally was. “All these years. I should know.” River sighed.

“We are not the same.” Ouch.

Rational thinking is one thing, rational reactions are another, and neither River or the Doctor were any good at the latter.

It could have been any version of him saying this, and she’d be guilty in the truth that she’d take it the same way. Honestly, if he were young, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much. Especially if he thought she was human, then it would make sense. Not that it didn’t now. I mean, sure, she wasn’t a Time-Lord -Time-Lord, a Proto-Time-Lord but Time Lord nonetheless. Untempered schism and all that. She knew they weren’t the same for god’s sake. Still, it stung.

“No. We are not.” She repeated. Her voice was so flat, her brows laid flat on her face. She shuffled on top of the sheets.

It was always a coin toss on whether he heard something or chose to ignore it. He just moved his hand from her stomach to her cheek and smiled, “Hey,” She only stared back, fighting her own grin, “you just sleep now. We’ll sort it out.” They placed their foreheads together, the Doctor ran his thumb on her cheekbone and softly kissed his wife. 

River was too smitten to defend herself from their love. She moved the blankets and settled herself underneath them, cuddling up to her husband’s chest, his arm around her. It felt like resting atop warm summer clouds, perfectly delightful. So much so you too would forget all your worries and anxieties. Every emotion, every nerve, gone.

Sleep was a pleasure, slumber was more a grim punishment.  Nothing’s worse than dreaming.

Chapter Text

The quiet hum of the time-machine locked away in their closet had become the rhythmic backdrop of their lives.

River found solace in her work once more, all her attention elsewhere to distract herself. Yet, the Doctor couldn't shake off the feeling of something amiss. His worry grew as he continued watching River from the corner of his eye, her glow seemingly dimming under the weight of unspoken fear, yet illuminating her skin far more than it ever should.

One evening, when River laid in bed reading of Victorian Martians for a lecture, the Doctor took it upon himself to investigate the TARDIS archives. Doors he hadn't opened in centuries, many not for a millennia, for any anomalies or unexplained findings that might shed light on her condition. Surely, there had to be something. If not from the Academy then at least from a renegade he'd been inclined to help in their research years ago.

He entered what looked like it should’ve been linen-closet. Inside were a collection of dark rickety spiral stairs reaching the heavens, each step its own shelf. Some of the nooks held books who’s spines were obscured and eligible, others of vials of knowledge that fell victim to gravity and their lack of cap, left out to spill. Though most mantles were left empty.  

His fingers grazed, feeling the ripple the different hardcovers made as he passed them. Clearing your throat here came with consequence, as a cough only blew the grime to your face again and your eyes would be burned. Still, that wouldn’t make him leave.

A pile began to form on the sticky floors, all of  forgotten memories once more neglected in search of something else. Soon, it became more of a mess than a stack, books toppling over each other, thrown without care or order. Little artifacts here and there, trinkets and picture frames he’d stare at before cleaning and gently putting them back, though most he didn’t care to notice. To be fair, he’d forgotten. Or rather they just didn’t mean what they used to. Things he hadn’t seen in 600, 800— if we’re being honest, billions— of years, didn’t tell the same story that they did before. Maybe they did, in earnest, they probably did. But the Doctor’s the Doctor and he just didn’t want to care.

He wiped off a small brown box with his sleeve, its black felt now gray from fuzz that stained the room. He cracked the hinges and opened it up to reveal a golden fob attached to a metal bauble the size of his palm, pulsing with a faint, rhythmic energy. The Doctor felt its weight in his hands, observing the way it vibrated, humming gently, like a breath. It was like holding a piece of a star. It was entrancing. 

The Doctor stared at his hand, something clicking in his mind that distanced his stomach from his hearts. The metal device was designed for Time Lord biology, he could tell as much from its etchings of bygone runes. Linear Gallifreyan was carved into the gold, stretching around, yet the dim lighting of the ever more stuffed nook left the Doctor only able to decipher it by texture. Whatever else it said, it sat in his throat as his mind raced. All signs pointed to River. It was reacting to her, it had to be. He’d know, right? He’d watched her a thousand nights. He could pick her breathing out of a dozen others, the beating of her hearts, the nudging in her sleep. He knew when it was her. And in that same vein, he’s the kind of lunatic who could predict when the babies would kick and where. That’s how he knew where to put his hands. 

In a way, the Doctor was more aware of River’s pregnancy than she was, or could be. A way that sent a cold shiver down his spine when he realized there was a pattern that didn’t make sense. Two in fact. Together out of place from one another, and together louder than the rest. It was something familiar, true, something the Doctor knew he knew. And yet, he didn’t dare to touch it any further, for now. It was too new, too unexplored, too much of a gamble. 

It was like holding a grenade with no pin, and knowing it could blow at any moment. But unlike a grenade, he had no clue what it could do, or how it would react.

The Doctor stared into the fob, his mind raced through every possible scenario. It could be a gift from his people, a way to protect or help their lineage kept secret in the order. Or it could be a curse. Maybe something planted by someone to bring him down. But why would they wait until now? Why wait until he’d found peace? And yet, this was what he came looking for, if anything, he should have been pleased. Better a mystery with a clue than none, right?

He sighed. 

The silence was too thick. He’d missed the snoring.

The Doctor made his way out of the TARDIS in exasperation, sleep calling him for accompaniment. 

River was in bed, just as he’d imagined, with her eyes closed. One hand half open palmed by her head, the other draped over a red hardcover book whose yellow cover was slipping. Her glasses were falling from her slumbering face and the soft glow of the lamp cast shadows across her features in such a picturesque manner. It wasn’t a surprise that one of the infinite rooms in the blue box was a gallery with its walls covered in her framed features. 

The Doctor sat down beside her, placing the device on the nightstand, trying to act nonchalant. He gently slid her glasses off her nose and the book from her hands. He didn’t want to worry her, not yet. Not until he had all the answers. 

He took her hand in his, feeling the warmth of her skin, the steady beat of her hearts. He breathed deeply as he looked at her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He didn’t want to disrupt it.

Chapter Text

"Doctor! I've got something you’ll love," River announced, swinging the TARDIS doors open, a grin stained on her face and her eyes gleaming with excitement, “Oh. And I’ve also found something else you’ll find extraordinary,” she teased.

"River, I've told you before, don't spoil the fun of it," the Doctor replied with a playful scolding, booping her on the nose as she leaned up on the console, her breath catching up with her.

"But I can't help it, your curiosity is too much for me," she said, her smile infectious. 

River held up a small, silver, metallic cube. Its surface was etched with symbols that didn’t stop dancing with an inner glow. "It's a memory crystal," she began to explain with a smirk. "A Time Lord artifact that can hold the entirety of one's life. And it's not just anyone's life, it's..."

"Let me guess," the Doctor interrupted, a glint in his own green eyes, "it's yours."

River nodded and wrinkled  the bridge of her nose. "How did you know?"

"Well, it's not like you to find something ordinary," the Doctor said, his curiosity now fully piqued.

“Or you, sweetie,” she flicked his polka-dotted maroon bow-tie.

The cube was propped up by her poised fingers, emitting a soft hum that seemed to resonate with the very fabric of the room. The Doctor stepped closer, his sonic screwdriver at the ready. "But River, these are impossible to find. I mean, you can’t just get your hands on these, now or ever. No one could. How did you come across it, Doctor Song?"

"Let's just say, I know a man who knows a man, who knows a woman, who knows a Silurian," she said with a wink. "But that's not even the interesting part."

The Doctor took the cube gently and examined it. "Go on."

"This crystal isn't full," River revealed. "Someone's been editing it."

The Doctor's face grew serious. "That's impossible. They’re read-only. You can't rewrite your own timeline."

"Apparently, you can," she said, her voice a mix of awe and challenge, “or at least, you can your own memory.”

The Doctor activated the TARDIS's scanning. Eventually, the cube’s files began unfolding on the screens around them. Images flickered through River's past, her time with him, their shared adventures, and the moments that had shaped her life. But as the Doctor watched, he noticed something was off. Events he didn't remember, people they had never met, places they hadn't been to.

"Someone's been playing with your history," he said gravely. "And that's very dangerous indeed. More than dangerous, for us especially, River."

River nodded. "I know. But why? And who has the power to do such a thing?"

“You do.”

“What?” River turned to him, her brows frowned.

“You do.” The Doctor repeated. His face was flat, his boyish grin gone.

The air felt thicker, every sound was louder, “I don’t–”

“You do, River Song. You have such power.” His eyes stopped shining, “Such infuriating, malevolent power. You’ve rewritten my life. You’ve stolen it. For nothing but your own pleasure.”

“Doctor–” Her eyes wide, she didn’t know what to do. 

Her stomach lurched as the walls grew closer, the TARDIS’s hum turned into a guttural scream.  The room spun and she reached out to steady herself, but her hand found no console, no Doctor to grasp onto. 

Her hearts felt like they had been plucked out and squeezed, her breath hitched as the walls of the TARDIS shifted and contorted, the lights flickering to a strobe that sent her head reeling. 

She staggered back, her hand sliding along the railing for support, but the metal was slick with her own blood. It seeped into the floorboards, forming a crimson pool that grew with every pulse of her racing hearts. Her knees buckled. The floor beneath her grew spongy, like a living organism that had absorbed too much water, her blood mixing with its essence, staining the grime a vivid red.

Her hand slipped in the pool of blood, six hearts pounding in her ears. She watched as the crimson liquid began to pulse in rhythm with the malevolent whispers of the Doctor’s voice growing distant, the silver cube on the floor pulsing with a life of its own. They grew into a crescendo, a symphony of dread that filled every corner of her mind. The Doctor was lost in the fog of her nightmare, his cries for help echoing in the vast emptiness that surrounded her. The walls of the TARDIS closed in, whispering her deepest secrets, her darkest fears. They grew louder, a cacophony of voices that sang of a time when she would be the cause of her own destruction. The whispers grew into a deafening roar, a chorus of accusation that she couldn’t escape. 

She felt a scream bubble in her chest, but no sound came out. Her throat was tight, her lungs burning for air that wasn’t there. 

The images on the screens grew more chaotic, a cacophony of moments she recognized and some she didn’t, each one stained with a darkness she hadn’t been a part of. Two sets of eyes stared back at her, one a deep blue, filled with love and trust, the other a cold, piercing, and jealous green. 

The panic was suffocating, her breaths coming in gasps. She fell through the floor to memories of laughter and tears, through battles won and lost, through kisses stolen in the shadows of time. 

The Doctor’s figure shrunk until he was nothing more than a speck of light in the distance. She reached for him, her hand stretching out, but the emptiness grew, swallowing her whole. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and fear, and she couldn’t breathe.

As she descended, the whispers grew louder. 

The TARDIS groaned around her, its very fabric seeming to scream in agony. 

She was the architect of her own despair.

The fear was paralyzing, turning her limbs to lead. Her brain was the only thing moving as it spun. The only certainty was the cold, suffocating emptiness that surrounded her, and the fading echo of the Doctor’s voice, calling to her from a place she couldn’t reach.

And yet, amidst the chaos, there were whispers of something else. A soft lullaby, a gentle fluttering, like the beat of two hearts growing stronger with each passing moment, each twice as loud as her own. A warmth began to spread through her, a hint of something she hadn’t allowed herself to hope for.

River felt a pressure in her stomach, a heaviness that wasn’t from the fall. Two beams of light pierced the abyss, and she reached out to them, feeling a pull.

The scent of lavender and fresh rain filled her nostrils, and she could almost feel the warmth of a blanket being wrapped around her. But the pain grew, a sharpness that cut through the comfort, reminding her that she was still falling.

With a gasp, her eyes snapped open, and she found herself lying in a cold sweat. The room was silent, the only sound of her racing hearts. The Doctor lay beside her, his own chest rising and falling peacefully, oblivious to the turmoil she felt.

She smiled with a breath of relief, her fingers tucking in a coil behind his ear. Yet, from the corner of her eye she saw a shine.

With trembling hands, she picked up the golden etched metal from his bedside table. The room was bathed in the soft faux moonlight, the not-so-much-a-cube’s glow the only other illumination. It was too much of a coincidence. River didn’t believe in coincidences. The images the cube had shown her played in her mind, taunting her with their reality. They whispered in her ear, a promise of a fate she didn’t dare to believe.

River’s hand clenched around the fob, her knuckles turning white. She had to tell the Doctor. But would he believe her? Would he understand the horror that had just unfolded in her subconscious? Or would he dismiss it?

Her heart thudded in her chest as she slid out of bed to sit at the edge, careful not to wake him. It was more than just a nightmare, and the idea that it could happen again was too daunting. A nightmare was customary, a nightmare was something she’d had since she was a kid. A nightmare was the Spaceman, nightmares were the consequences of her actions. This was something else entirely.

The Doctor stirred in his sleep, his hand reaching out for hers. She took it, feeling the warmth and strength that she had always found comfort in. But tonight, it didn’t calm her. Instead, it made her stomach clench, whatever prophecy she’d given herself crashing down on her.

Tomorrow, she would tell him. They would face it together, as they had always done. But for now, she held onto the only thing that felt real—his hand—and waited for the night to pass.