River took one last swig; emptying the whisky bottle she had clutched in one hand she proceeded to propel it against the nearest wall. She reached automatically for another bottle and unscrewed the cap, her unfocussed eyes resting hazily on the rubble in font of her. She was sat with her back to the cold wall of the bar, in amongst the upturned bar stools and splinters of glass that carpeted the floor.
It was empty now, all except for her, and what remained of the tables and chairs of the little London bar. A thin stream of smoke wafted from the barrel of her gun, which was lying discarded on the floor next to her feet. She had run out of bullets, and things to shoot at, an hour ago, and since then her hands had become glued to various bottles of whisky, or tequila. She just wanted to forget. Was that really so much to ask? She wanted to burn the images from her mind, to scrub it clean, scrape them away with a scouring pad. But all she had was drink, so she had resolved to put it to good use. She took another long gulp, barely even flinching as the white-hot liquor trod fire down the back of her throat.
"So, when I hear that a bar is being shot up by a mad women with crazy hair, I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that it has to by my daughter." River looked up to see her mother standing in the doorway of the devastated bar. Amy's grin slid from her face when she saw the state that her daughter was in. Her hair looked wild, pointing in every direction, little pieces of glass glittering dangerously from within her wiry curls. There were tiny scratches and burns across her face, her knuckles bruised and bleeding. Her sharp green eyes had become dull, unfocussed with drink.
Amy ran to her. She knelt in front of her child and took her face in her hands, forcing her to look up at her.
"Melody what happened?" River looked at her hopelessly.
"I saw something I should have never seen," she mumbled. She sent to take another mouthful of whisky and Amy yanked the bottle from her hands.
"Tell me what happened. What did you see?" she pleaded, picking the bits of glass from her frazzled hair.
"Spoilers," River slurred. She pulled her knees up to her chest, hiding her face in them and wrapping her arms protectively around herself. She looked helpless. Like a child. Utterly desperate, as though she had totally given up. That was one thing that her daughter never did, and it frightened her.
"Sweetie, talk to me please," she begged.
"I saw the end," River wailed through her knees. She looked up and Amy was shocked to see tears rolling freely down her face. "I saw his end!" Amy frowned.
"The Doctors? As in at Lake Silencio? Because you told me your self that he didn't die then."
"No. I saw his death. His final death." River looked despairingly at her mother. "I saw my husband die."
Amy sat back on her heals and watched helplessly as her daughter once again picked up the whisky bottle and took another long hard drink. She walked silently over to Rory who had been standing aghast in the doorway, watching in a stricken silence.
"Call him," he said. "Now."
The TARDIS materialised outside in the dark empty street outside the entrance to the little bar. The doors banged open and the Doctor hurried over to where Amy and Rory were waiting.
"What's happened? Where is she?"
"Inside." Amy muttered. "She's not so good Doctor."
"What happened?" he growled. Amy shook her head.
"Spoilers. Just be with her. She needs you. Badly."
The Doctor felt his hearts wail and cry out as he laid eyes on his wife, slumped against the wall, surrounded by empty bottles. He walked silently over and squatted down in front of her, forcing a smile.
"Hello sweetie," he whispered. At the sound of his voice River's head snapped up and a fresh storm of tears began to run down her face.
"It's you."
"It's me." He smiled softly, and carefully wiped the tears from her pale face. She held his hand to her for am moment and looked helplessly into his old eyes.
"I can't tell you," she said thickly.
"I know. It's okay. You don't have to." He pulled her into his arms as the floodgates opened and she sobbed into his chest.
"Can you stand?" he asked softly. She shook her head and he scooped her up into his long arms and stood. She looked pale, almost green, and dizzy, and sure enough as he stood he head fell limp against his chest as she lost consciousness.
Amy watched as the Doctor emerged from the bar, an unconscious River in his arms, a dangerous mixture of fury and dismay painted across his face. She looked down at her little girl, lying out cold in his arms, and brushed one wild curl back from her face. Just being close to him seemed to have calmed her.
"She'll be okay you know. Just make sure you are there when she wakes up." The Doctor nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and walked into the TARDIS, kicking the door shut behind him.
River stirred in his arms, a small pain-filled groan escaping her lips.
"Hey," the Doctor murmured softly, planting a small kiss on her temple. "How do you feel?"
"Never, ever, let me drink again," she groaned. He planted another gently kiss on her head and smoothed her hair back from her face.
"How much do you remember?" he asked cautiously.
"Everything," she whispered. "But Doctor I can't…"
"I know. It's okay I know you can't," he hushed her. She buried her face in his chest once more.
"I don't want to remember. I don't want to remember any of it." A tear slid down her cheek and he felt her begin to shake in his arms. "Please," she whispered, "please make it go away."
"I can't. You know I can't. But River," he tilted her face very gently up so that she was looking at him through blurry eyes. "Always remember, that whatever happens, time can be rewritten. And there is not one line, in the entire universe, that I wouldn't rewrite for you."