Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize from Doctor Who is mine, though I'd dearly like a TARDIS of my own.

Rated: Teen

Summary: He wanders the streets of London and half of the TARDIS, head down, unseeing, equally lost.

A/N: Sequel to "Now all of the landscape, it's just an empty place. Acres of longing, mountains of tenderness". Hopefully it does that justice. You should very much read that story first, though this might still manage to make some sense otherwise.

Title from: "I Will Wait" by Mumford & Sons.

Betas: Becs and Megs.

You forgive and I won't forget

He wanders the streets of London and half of the TARDIS, head down, unseeing, equally lost. He starts wearing Amy's glasses. His tenth incarnation wore glasses to feel clever - he wears them to feel his age. To be sad. For people to leave him alone.

He makes one trip to that room that happens to hold books - among other things: there are desks and shelves and couches and pedestals and really he could go on - and comes out clutching every fairy story he can find, from a thousand different worlds. He wants to be prepared, and he's a bit rusty at telling stories, as Stormageddon can attest to.

He sits in the silent console room or holed away in his study, pouring over the stories. He'd not realized how many were about him -about them - about her. He shuts those books away and shuffles them into a storage room, afraid to brave that-room-that-happens-to-hold-things-including-books again.

Almost all his tweed is in their bedroom, which he can't bring himself to so much as go near, so he spends a few days lost in the wardrobe, wandering, until he comes across something suitably Victorian and drab. He's feeling every second of his fifteen hundred years and he is tired of trying to dress like he's under a thousand. He's a tired old man and he's lost everything that he holds dear.

Eventually, seized by a fit of anger, he storms through their bedroom, gathering items up haphazardly and shoving them into storage. He gets through the nursery that wasn't before he collapses in a heap and can't be roused for days. Eventually, Vastra has to come check on him again. Her and Jenny and Strax take turns coming by every few days. They understand why he can't face Paternoster Row and the monsters that lurk there.

When he finally faces River at his own grave, it's all he can do to stay standing. He tries to tell her goodbye because she needs him to, even though he doesn't know how to say goodbye to his wife and child. How he is supposed to just go on. He's spent his life letting go and running away - never looking back. He thinks he'd gladly spend the rest of his life looking back if it meant he never had to give them up. He musters a smile for her because it is River, and if she wants him to lie one more time he will give his best performance and tell her goodbye the only way he can. If it wobbles at the edges, River doesn't comment. His words are a poor echo of hers at Darillium and he wishes that they were true now as much as then. "See you around, Professor Song."

When she responds with spoilers, his mind races. But she's faded out before he can even process the words. Faded out. After Clara. And he has to save Clara but something is nagging at him and he suddenly feels like maybe he can rewrite time, at least his own time, because even if it's a lie - spoilers.

Predictably, it turns out Clara has beat him to the punch. It takes her some time to recoup from her adventures in his timeline, and she doesn't remember most of it (for which he is endlessly thankful - there are many moments of his long life that no-one, not even his wife, needs to relive). But as soon as she comes to - blessedly coherent after two nerve-wracking days of fever and delirium during which he worried incessantly and had far too much time to think - the first words out of her mouth are, "How could you not have mentioned your wife? If I didn't know first-hand how much you love her, I'd be furious. When we pick her up from the Library, you had best grovel. Just nowhere I can see. I've suddenly far too good of an idea what Professor Song considers an appropriate apology and my head hurts enough without a reenactment."

The Doctor gapes at her, wringing his hands helplessly, until she huffs and winces. "How about you bring me some sort of magic space aspirin? Watching you think hurts too much when the ship is spinning."

He represses the urge to tell her the TARDIS is always spinning and rushes off to find aspirin, which he doesn't have. He comes back with his arms overflowing with every other analgesic he can think of, a few of which he hastily pushes aside when he remembers they're not exactly fit for human constitutions.

His mind is racing as he tries to piece everything together without pestering Clara, and he can't stop his limbs from fidgeting with the need to do something. Could he just go to (he gulps) the Library right now? But that would be terribly rude and Clara's still recovering - she shouldn't even be out of bed yet, really - and he doesn't actually know when he needs to go...

And it doesn't answer the question of how. He tells himself it doesn't matter, so long as he has River, but it does. He's spent centuries trying to work out how to properly save her, convinced that the data core was a stopgap and he just had to solve it. Then he realized there was no solving it. No rescuing River from a place he knew she'd hate. Nothing but letting her go. And he couldn't. He knew it made him selfish and cruel but he had never claimed to be anything but, and he refused to give up that last bit of her. No matter how much it hurt, it was better than the alternative.

But Clara's somehow done the impossible. Again. The impossible girl. Saving him more than she realizes because his memories cannot possibly capture the depth of his feelings for his wife. His child. And he knows it's greedy when he's already being handed a miracle but he has to know if their child has also been saved. He'd been afraid to go, afraid to ask. Afraid to have watched their one chance at a child burn up with River's body. He tells himself that as long as River is safe... but if he can have both, he wants both. Deep in his hearts, in a place he tries to smother and run from, he wants both.

His hands shake as he grips the console. He keeps his eyes on the keyboard that he can't see through what he refuses to admit are tears. "Where to, Clara Oswald?"

"The Library, of course. Do I have to think of everything? And hurry up - we have a teleport to intercept." She gives him a look that is a little bit teasing and all determination.

His fingers hover over the controls, stopping just short of entering the coordinates that have been burned into his hearts. The ones he's seen every time he's closed his eyes since Darillium. "How?" His voice shakes and chokes up and it's all he can do to force the word out.

Clara struggles up from where she's been resting and moves next to him. Thankfully, she seems to know what he means. "I don't rightly remember. The echoes, it's like they come back to me when they die, but they only remember bits and pieces? Something about a teleport. I - she? Yes, she, I suppose - snuck in and redid the wiring. It was important, I remember. River got teleported away and she took her place, right at the last possible second - one genius mind for another. Plenty of hard drive space to spare once she was dead. You - the younger you - got the teleport working again, remember? Keyed to the TARDIS. Now we just have to make sure she goes to the right TARDIS."

He blinks back the wetness in his eyes and swallows the lump in his throat. "But she - River was in the data core. Her - ghost."

Clara's hand rests on his arm, soft and reassuring like her voice. "Well she was still the one holding the sonic. I - my echo just took her place at the end."

He swallows hard again, turning to her, feeling the guilt swell up. "So you died. In her place. Your ghost was never saved."

But Clara rolls her eyes when she sees his expression. "Well it couldn't be or I'd never have been able to put the pieces of me back together, Doctor. Keep up."

"There was no body. I thought-"

"I was incinerated. It was quick. Surprisingly peaceful. Better than some of the other echoes." Clara pauses, thoughtful, "Definitely not afraid of dying anymore."

Clara smiles at him and squeezes his arm again before withdrawing, and it gives him just enough strength. He swallows the guilt and enters the correct time coordinates.

They can land on the doctor moon. Close enough for teleport without any fear of paradoxes or Vashta Nerada. If he adjusts the TARDIS systems he should be able to pick up the lone teleport and reroute. He can match River's signal with her energy signature from the many times she's hacked through the shields with the vortex manipulator. It won't be a perfect match, but it should be enough - it should work. Still, he hesitates. If they get this wrong, that's it. She'll just be gone. Disintegrated into space, just molecules. Floating. Lost.

Clara's voice is surprisingly comforting. "It will work, Doctor." She is full of energy and self-assurance and just what he needs to hear. "I was a genius, remember? So what are we waiting for? Let's go pick up your wife. Then she can deal with you - I spend enough time looking after children as is."

The Doctor huffs at her teasing. But he appreciates it more than he wants to admit. It cuts through the fear paralyzing him. And he can see how much it is costing Clara from the way she clutches the edges of the console and the pain creasing her brow. He gives her hand a reassuring pat. "Right. What are we waiting for? It's far past your bedtime as is."

With one hand still resting over Clara's, he sends them into the vortex.

They get there to early and have to wait. Parked along the doctor moon. Clara teases him endlessly about leaving time to get dressed up. But he needs the moments in his wardrobe to steady the precarious tower of emotions tumbling through him. He always dresses up for big events. He always dresses up when he picks up River. He puts on his tux when he needs to hide his fear behind a costume. When he needs extra props to gather the strength to be the Doctor. For a while, it's enough.

But then there is still no signal.

The Doctor paces restlessly. Clara retreats back to the captain's chair. He triple checks the TARDIS systems and the calibrations needed for the teleport. He can feel Clara watching him. Running his hands through his hair and checking the time for the thousandth time - they can't have missed her; did it really take this long, the first time? - he snaps, "Why don't you rest?"

"Why don't you?" Clara grumps and then takes a breath. "I'm not leaving you alone in here to do something stupid and reckless like go down to the planet and get yourself killed. Your wife would be terribly cross with me."

The Doctor can't resist pouting a bit at her summation as he tries to pretend he wasn't considering that exact plan. "You never care if I'm cross."

Clara shrugs, inspecting her nails as she rests in her chair like a queen dismissing the court jester. "Yes, well. River's properly scary when she's cross."

He stops pacing to gesture incredulously at her. "And I'm not? I can be scary! Armadas have run at the mention of my name. Proper, really ridiculously big armadas." His arms sweep out to try to emphasize his words.

"Yes, yes." Clara patronizes, "You're properly frightening. Will you sit down now? You're making me dizzy again."

The Doctor is about to protest. He is scary. Not that he wants to be scary, but he can be. If he has to. But the console bleeps at that moment - Sexy has locked onto a signal - and he dashes toward it. River. The TARDIS hums excitedly, the way she always does around River - he's never been so glad for her playing favorites before.

He eyes the console, runs back toward the rails, spins around helplessly, and then finally feels the spike of energy building a meter to his left. He leaps to that side, arms open and hearts beating in his chest.

For one terrible moment nothing happens, and he fears he's somehow got it wrong. Failed her. Again. One moment he is waiting and the next she is in his arms, a solid weight, dragging him down to the floor with her. She smells like time and tears and teleport and River. The Doctor rocks her in his lap and clings to her.

"Doctor - what? What am I - we have to save them, Doctor-"

"Shh. You're safe, River. Everyone is safe. You saved them. You and Clara."

There are tears still wet on her cheeks and she's still in that damned spacesuit. He cradles River's face in his hands and meets her eyes - the same and the opposite of their meeting at Trenzalore, happiness instead of loss - and kisses her until he can no longer tell her tears from his own.

When they break to breathe in one another's air, River runs her hand along his jawline - rememorizing the face she never thought she'd see again. The Doctor knows because he is doing the same thing. River's gaze falls to the sleeve of her suit. "Then, for God's sake, take this off of me."

He can see her quiet desperation. River hates spacesuits. He can't say as he is fond of them either. They've always meant one another's deaths. An omen of bad things to come. But this moment is celebrating life. River is alive. Maybe they can burn the suit, just in case.

A throat clears just as he moves to help River out of the spacesuit. "I think that's my cue to leave. This is me, very much leaving."

The Doctor rounds about, bringing River with him as they finally manage to wrest her free. "Wait. Clara, I want you to meet the brilliant Professor River Song, my wife." He beams at Clara's approving nod before turning back to River and ignoring her amused eyebrow. "River, this is Clara. The girl who did the impossible and rescued you."

River is giving him an indulgent look. "Doctor, the introduction was lovely, but we've already met."

Clara shrugs at the Doctor, agreeing with River but giving him a look that says she knows exactly what he's getting at.

The Doctor shakes his head at both of them. It's not about making up for past mistakes - or not just. "No. You each met a version of the other. This is your first proper meeting as yourselves and I'm determined to get it right this time."

Clara heaves herself wearily up, but she manages a small, genuine smile as she extends her hand. River takes it without letting go of his - not that he'd let her. He trails her like a shadow. The Doctor shakes off that comparison immediately. The TARDIS lights are glaringly bright - no shadows here. No ghosts. River is real and solid next to him and Clara can see her and she is really here.

Clara clearly doesn't remember everything. No human mind could. But bits must come back to her because as soon as she touches River, the first words out of her mouth are, "Oh my god. You're pregnant." And then she's punching the Doctor with surprising energy and calling him every name she can think of.

The Doctor's mouth opens and closes around words that he cannot give voice to, Clara's proclamation ringing in his ears even as she rails at him. It's River who gently pries the girl off the Doctor. He reaches for River instinctively, taking her hand again, trying to work up the nerve to meet her eyes.

He's staring at River's hand in his, tracing the flow of blood in the veins beneath her skin with his eyes and telling himself that this is real. She is real, and she is all right. She has to be all right.

"Doctor."

When he looks up, Clara is gone and River is watching him with concern. She is concerned about him. His throat constricts, his hearts lodged there and choking the air from his lungs. He swallows and tries again. "You kept me waiting in London far too long, wife."

River's smile wobbles at the edges and the Doctor knows his is not any better. Then she's back in his arms and he's crushing her to him. River's grip is strong and reassuring and she lets him press kisses and tears into her hair, muttering soft endearments until he quiets.

She is in her old Stormcage joggers with a sports bra and basic vest, slightly sweaty from all the exertion in the spacesuit, undeniably real, and the Doctor thinks that she looks even more beautiful every time he sees her.

When his eyes return to hers, River's eyes drop. "Did you really believe I'd died all these years, my love?"

He nods, unable to find the words. Finally, "I waited for you - in London. I waited, but I never thought - I -" His hands stroke down her sides, coming to rest just at her stomach but not touching.

"So you followed me back to the Library, knowing how dangerous it was? You're a fool."

"I'm in love."

He can see River's breath catch at the simple truth of his words. He's had far too long to think on them - all the times he didn't dare utter them, fearing they were inadequate to the depth of his feelings, the complexity of their marriage. He really has been a fool, in so many ways. River recovers quickly, chiding him fondly, "Same thing."

"Are you-" he swallows thickly, fingers fluttering at her sides.

River's smile falters and her eyes are pinched and worried. "I - I don't know." Her hands capture his, resting both of their hands protectively over her stomach. "Teleports aren't exactly foolproof at the best of times and this was something of a rushed job."

River's trying to come off unconcerned but he can see the fear she thinks she's hiding. Horrified, he freezes on the spot. To have her and not...

One of River's hands brings his to the edge of the console, her other clutching his over her stomach. "What do you say we ask the old girl?"

His hands are shaking or maybe hers are. He swallows and nods and together they pull the viewer close and input the commands. Neither of them dares to breathe until the result is blinking back at them and then there's no time to breathe because he's pressing River close again and kissing her through their tears, joy blooming through him with faint fluttering wings.

When they part, he falls to his knees in front of her. His legs go all wobbly at the way his hearts feel, at the sight of her glowing with happy tears, and he can no more stay standing than he can tear his eyes from her.

He rests his forehead against the soft, almost-imperceptible swell of her stomach, and tries to sense the life growing inside.

He's been thinking about it a lot - family. Reading all those fairy stories and trying to remember the feeling of holding his children in his arms. But he'd not properly believed he would ever feel that again, not really, not until this moment.

River has survived the Library. And they are going to have a baby. A family - his family - after all these years. He'd wanted it so much - he wants it so much. He's been searching for family since he let Susan go, so long ago now, and since Gallifrey fell he hasn't even dared to hope, to dream. His companions are like family and that had been close enough. But River - with River...

The Doctor inhales the comforting warmth of her and lets the unbridled joy wash through him. This makes them linear, at last. He looks up to find River regarding him with the same look she'd worn at Darillium, as though she is trying to memorize this moment because she cannot quite believe it.

He runs his thumbs soothingly over her hands. "I'm never letting you out of my sight again, wife."

River smiles and shakes her head, half laughing even as she sniffles. "Oh, Doctor. We'll drive one another mad."

"Then it's a good thing you married a madman," he presses a kiss to her stomach with a grin.

River helps him back to his feet, their hands still laced together. He swings them jauntily, too happy to stay still, spinning River around with him and reveling in the way they are connected, moving together as one. River lets him, teasing softly, "I only married you for this beautiful blue box."

"What, this old thing?" He draws her close again, but he can't even pretend to be cross - with either of them. "She's home."

"She is," River agrees, eyes sparkling. He searches them until he's certain that she's serious, and then he can't resist brushing his lips over hers, a soft devotion. He can't stop kissing her, reveling in her - he may never stop again. The very thought makes him giddy.

If his hearts get any bigger they are going to burst, and he wouldn't even regret the regeneration. He squeezes her as tightly as he dares. "Will you really stay with me, River?"

"Oh my love," River is tugging them backwards, walking toward their bedroom with the unerring precision that comes of having navigated the TARDIS innumerable times before, "there's nowhere I'd rather be in the universe."

The Doctor whoops with laughter, lifting River off the ground and spinning them both around until they tumble through the door to their bedroom, kissing and tugging at one another's clothing. Their bedroom. He catches the door to the nursery out of the corner of his eye, as River shimmies out of her clothes without leaving his arms. Their room is just as he left it, waiting for them.

As he follows River to the soft embrace of her arms and their bed, for the first time in a long time, it feels like he's home.