"Epilogue"
by Giesbrecht
(Apologies for the twist halfway through; the story refused to be written any other way. And I think it's safe to assume that anyone important to the Doctor became important to River, too.)
He arrived on her doorstep with a new haircut and a suit and asked her if she was busy. She thought that odd, even as she teased him for expecting her to drop everything and go with him every time he turned up. He never asked before, he just assumed. He looked older than she had ever seen him.
Still, she made him wait in the front room while she went and changed into something more suited to travelling, ignoring his protests that the TARDIS had plenty of such outfits onboard. She knew it, but she always did like to make him grouse a little. As she tied her hair back with a scarf (it never used to get in her way like that), she wondered at his request. Something had happened - well, something was always happening - but it remained to be seen if she could get it out of him. They knew one another as well as any two sentient beings could know each other, and that meant she knew how he would tuck things away in his mind and never return to them.
"Where to?" she asked as she reappeared.
"Not far." He offered her his arm. "Just a galaxy or two over. Have you back in time for tea."
"You're not staying for tea?" she said. "Not much of a date then, is it?"
He smiled and led the way to the TARDIS. He snapped his fingers and the doors opened.
"Show-off," she said. She always said it.
He gave her a "who, me?" look. He always did.
The trip was short indeed. She helped him pilot, and noticed that they almost-but-not-quite crossed his timeline. "Cutting it a bit close," she said.
"Not much room for error," he said. "Not here, anyway."
"Where are we?" She did not recognize the coordinates.
"The Library."
"The," she repeated. "I thought it was abandoned."
"Yep," he said. "This is the day before." He opened the doors.
"Dad."
He stopped and turned.
"Why are we here?"
He looked down the aisle through the doors, the rows and rows of books that would never now be read. "Call it an epilogue."
There were people about, the last of the Library's survivors, teleporting away. They called out to the Doctor, but he ignored them, following some long-remembered route to the heart of the planet. When they reached the core of the computer, he paused, staring sightlessly at the empty chair opposite them. Jenny allowed him the moment, and espied a familiar bit of technology sitting on its arm. "Your sonic screwdriver."
He swallowed and nodded, then in swift, purposeful steps crossed the room, picked it up, and pocketed it.
They returned to the surface levels. Almost all of the survivors had left. Through one great set of doors and down a flight of marble steps, there was a balcony overlooking the Library's grand canyons of stacks. Balancing on the rail was a blue book. Jenny knew it immediately, and knew what had happened. "She's gone."
"Yes."
The blow was sharp, and heavy. "And you knew."
"I never told you, did I?" said the Doctor. "The first time I met her was the last time she met me."
Jenny slipped her hand around his waist. The Doctor returned the gesture. "You always knew," she said. However dear she felt the loss, she knew the Doctor felt it dearer. "How could you stand it, never saying?"
He picked up the book, held it in his hand, caressing the worn blue leather, tracing the embossed panels with his thumb. "The same way she did," he said.
"And now you can read it." A slim consolation, she thought.
"Oh, no," he said. The very edge of a smile crinkled the corner of his eye, the very edge of hope. "You can't finish a book you've never read." He pulled a length of string out from the depths of a pocket and wrapped it around the book like a ribbon on a present, tying it tight. "Spoilers."