Her sorrowful, knowing smile troubled him. The way she had sat before him in the library, facing death with fear and grief barely held in check by determination, haunted him deeply. Yet—stronger than anything else, she had looked to him with love, unfettered, unabashed love, which superseded even her existence. With that look, she seared herself onto his hearts and shaken him to the depths of his very being.

The Doctor stood at the TARDIS console, one arm on his hip and the other propping him up against the display. If anyone walked in, they would see he hunched over the controls with a fierce, concentrated glower. They would have to be closer to see the sadness and pain. He was glad humans needed so much regular sleep; that little human fact ensured him Donna rested in her room where she couldn't see him, and he wouldn't have to explain the few tears that escaped his control. River Song. Even her name had a certain beautiful, mysterious melancholy to it. Certainly, he had saved her, but why did that not feel like enough? In 903 years, the Doctor saw harsher deaths and lives. While the part of him that didn't know her was satisfied she wasn't gone, the part of him that knew who she would become ached because she wasn't here.

He felt the old darkness and despair rise up in him, wild for vengeance or some sort of outlet for the futility of his connections. "Time Lord" was such a laughable moniker. More than any other beings, Time Lords were subjugated and victims to the cruelties of time. His people endured loss and knowledge beyond what frail consciousness should be able to bear. This was the reason why his kind were never meant to carry the burden of time travel alone. The Doctor's eyes drifted over the stations in the TARDIS. When he was younger and naïve, he elected to travel time and space with human companions because they saw the universe in a refreshing light and without the rules and constrictions of his race, but now he was old, alone, and the last of his kind. The Doctor was left with the choice of wrestling with despair and madness of traveling alone or traveling with companions who would fade and scar his soul.

"Doctor."

Startled, he spun around too quickly, tripping up against the controls and gripping his hearts in a slightly over dramatic fashion. "Geez—Donna! Don't creep up on me like a cat! You know how I feel about—" The word fell away as he found himself staring at a hazy, static-filled hologram of River Song.

"Well," the image huffed; her picture flickered as she fluffed her hair. "What sort of greeting is that? Mistaking me for another girl? I would smack some sense into you if this weren't just a transmission." She smiled ruefully, crossing her arms. Her hazel gaze swept over him. "I have to say though, Doctor, this regeneration? Yum." Despite the grainy broadcast, the playfulness in her voice gave the image so much life. "Hello, sweetie."

"What? What? WHA—"

River held up a finger over her lips, a mocking serious expression overtaking her features. "Now, now. None of that. We haven't the time." Her lips quirked. "I only have the energy of one star to talk: borrowed time, you know?" She winked at him and caught sight of her reflection in a mirrored surface. "Oh!" A scowl came across her animated features. "Why didn't you tell me I look all scramble?" She scolded. "My first date with version 10 of you, and you let me stand here with the equivalent of lipstick on my teeth without saying a word? Shame." She held up a sonic screwdriver, adjusting the image until it became painfully lifelike. "There. Lovely, if I do say so myself."

The Doctor was struck speechless. He stood there, mouth opening and closing for a moment before he tried to think. His mind raced as his fingers searched his inner coat pockets for his brainy specs. First date? Wariness spread through him. He took out the glasses and put them on slowly, stalling for time. Finally, he squinted up at her, thinking back for her words. "Where are we this time?" He peered at her squinting.

"My, my. Who's got you trained?" River smirked.

Part of him eased. This was interesting. Every meeting must be painful and uncertain, but she met it with the bravado of a new game. As he gazed at her with new appreciation, he noticed an old wisdom, a heavy burden held in her green eyes; Time Lord eyes. She knew, had lived as closely as possible to an existence of a Time Lord and endured to stand here before him, to seek him out. His hearts lightened. She was his future. He leaned back and rested his palms on the dash, crossing his long legs in front of him. "Spoilers," he grinned as he cocked his head to the side.

Her laughter was bright, rich and deep, flowing out of her and wrapping around him like a balm. "Well, Doctor. I'm impressed. I was warned you would be young, but here you are, catching on so quickly."

"Sorry—warned?"

Her smile was gentle and compassionate with a deep empathy that made him ache. "I was told you lost someone today. I know you don't know me very well, but you need me—" Her words were a little unsure of her welcome, a little awkward. She laced her fingers in front of her. "—so here I am."

"You are remarkable." He stared at her in wonder. The universe still had its surprises even for an old Time Lord. There would be sorrow and heartache, but he gazed at her and knew he wouldn't be alone. The future was still waiting for him.

A startled look crossed her face before she tried to suppress a pleased smile. "Oh, sweetie. You do know how to make a girl blush. I am supposed to be here to make you feel better." A sudden pensive look overtook her features. "Damn stars don't last nearly as long as they need to."

The Doctor smiled slightly and nodded. "Yeah—that they don't."

"Well, I best relay the message then." She looked at him with a tenderness, he hadn't seen in a while. "Don't forget: 'Across all of time and space, you are not alone. Never alone. They send their love.'"

Brow furrowed in confusion, the Doctor leaned forward. "Wait. Who?"

Her smile was patient and lovely. This soft and pure look replaced the painful image of her in the library on his hearts. He would remember her like this until they met again. "Everyone." The warmth behind that single word lingered even as her image disappeared.