"Hello Sweetie," River grins.
"Sweetie, I'd love to stop and chat, but I'm really quite busy." I reply, running back and forth frantically to various control panels.
"Please, Doctor, all you need to do is let me help you!" I can hear her desperation.
"No, really, I'm fine." I say, trying to sound brave. It's been a month since I lost Amy and Rory, and somehow I'm still too upset to function properly.
"Sweetie, please! I know this is hard, but if you would just let me help you through it!"
"Fine!" I reply, finally giving in. She looks into my eyes, and I see hers, my reflection staring back at me. She has such mysterious, dazzling blue-grey eyes. I can see her concern, and that's why she's the woman I chose to love forever. River's the only one who understands my pain, and she stays strong for me. I lost my friends, but she lost her parents, yet I'm the weak one. I feel so useless and pathetic. No matter what River says, I failed to save them. I've failed myself.
She wraps her arms around me, and her warmth comforts me a little. Slowly, I lower my face into her luxurious curls, and smell the faint scent of her shampoo. Gently, she turns to face me and whispers, "You'll be alright, I'm here for you." Her fresh breath tickles my ear.
"I love you River. You know that. I could never love someone else the way I love you." She notices me trying to change the subject, but doesn't push me. She knows I'm at a low point. I can't handle much more.
We sit for a while,
It is then that our lips meet, but they are broken apart by my tears, salty, and wet. It smudges her lipstick a little, but I don't point it out. "Doctor, don't cry, not now," But it's no use. I begin to choke on my own tears, crying harder than I think I ever have. I can't even enjoy the tender lips of my beautiful wife. Apparently, I can't do anything right. What's the point of me?
"It's just; she waited for me for so long. Four psychiatrists! I don't think I can ever return that, especially now that they're gone. And you, River, they were your parents, and yet you hold on just to comfort me. How can I ever repay you? I can't even kiss you, let alone love you! Maybe you should just leave. I don't want you to, but I'm tired of bringing you down."
"No, Doctor, darling, I'm your wife. We made a promise to always be here for each other, even at the toughest moments, and that's what I'm doing. It's called marriage, honey."
"NO! You don't understand! I can't do this anymore! Every time I have somebody new, I always lose them. Maybe I should travel alone. Maybe I shouldn't even travel."
"No, Doctor, absolutely not! Are you out of your mind?! Remember what, who was it you told me said it? Donna! Remember what Donna told you? She said to find someone. You can't betray that."
"Why are you always right? You know I don't like it when other people are right." Did I just flirt? I just flirted.
My flirtatiousness comes to an end when my mind goes back to Donna. She was going to travel with me forever, like Rose. Like most of them. I failed them all.
"Oh, Sweetie, this is why I love you," River chuckles lightly before she takes a deep breath and sighs, "now, find someone, I must go. I still have ages left in that prison."
She thinks I'm in the mood for flirting, but I'm really not. But I don't want her to go. "River, can't you stay, just a little longer?"
"Doctor, you know I want to, I just, I can't."
"Well at least say goodbye properly!" I may as well give her a happy goodbye. She needs to know she's not leaving me behind as broken as I was before she came, even if I am.
"Oh, Doctor, you really know how to make me smile." And then she kisses me, passionately, pressing her palms on my cheeks, and disappears out of the TARDIS door. Now we both have smudged lipstick.
I must find someone. So I fly, but in a different direction. I fly to Earth, the planet that never ceases to amaze me. A leaf brushes past my face as I walk. It's only a matter of time before I'm back and running again. I can feel it. The feeling of adrenaline pulses violently through my veins in excitement and anticipation.
Geronimo.