She waits.
Like she always did, really. She sometimes wonders if she spent her life living backwards, in moments between the being alive and the white waiting. All those times when he is not there... all those times were easier before he knew her. When she was wild and undisciplined and life was burning like a new star. She fears she might be getting old. Getting old while he is still so young... and getting younger every day. One step forward for her, one step back for her Doctor. Hers. She remembers the time when he wasn't hers. Not yet. The time when he was a different man and she was the same old woman.
But all that is lost now. Gone forever. She never believed in forever before. Time lasts, her body wouldn't. She gave him her life and all her other lives. She gave and he took it and now she is here and he is there and it's getting harder to say which is where and what is what. Is time passing? The children don't grow. Has it been a month? A Year? A decade? It feels like just a moment ago. Time. The more you understand about it, the less you understand about it. She wished she could keep track of time. Keep a journal with her days and nights in this life that feels so still. But she can't. She knows she shouldn't. Rationalizing her surroundings might put an end to the dream. And she is not ready to let go. Not while she can still remember. There is no going forward now, just looking back. Life is no longer a river, it's a pond. Still and contained within its shores. A whole world inside, but nothing really moving. Nothing really changing. Nothing? She fears she might be getting old. She spotted some gray hairs on her mirror this morning. Where they there yesterday? She didn't look. What would it mean, to grow old? Will she ever know? She hopes so.
Grow old and see an end. Closure. She remembers her time spent on Earth as a child, she remembers their beliefs: Heaven and Earth and Rest in Peace. She's known Earth. Earth was running with the Doctor. Earth was resting her head on his chest in the afterglow of passion. Earth was moving with him, and sharing their breaths and that tingling sensation when he walked by her and their bodies brushed... and the goosebumps. Earth was battle and swallowing the fear in your gut and leaning back to find his back on your back. Two against the world, against this merciless time that kept rushing by ever so quickly. Oh, she's known Earth alright: It was solid and painfully real. Earth was being alive. Earth was being with the Doctor.
This must be Heaven, she thinks. Beautiful and comfortable and safe. The knowledge of a million civilizations barely a whisper away. An answer to all the questions she's ever had, and an answer to each question this new knowledge arises. All the whys, all the hows. This must be Heaven for she feels she won't go thristy anymore. She Understands, she Knows. There is no anger left. No frustration at the things beyond our reach. Except for this impossible man that is now so far away from the body she no longer has. This impossible man she brought here with her in every thought and every memory. This man who is still by her side every minute of the day, except... he is not here. Heaven on Earth was what religion promised. She wishes she could have a taste of Earth here in Heaven.
Is she resting in Peace? No, not really. There's still longing and some nights, there are tears. Some nights her memories are so vivid she cries of joy. Of the beauty that was laid out before her, hers only to enjoy. Tears come because she is grateful that she has lived such a wonderful life. The feelings can be overwhelming at times, and she thinks she won't be able to breath. And now that she Knows, she can revisit her life and read all the secret coding underneath. She can see the events that took place and those that didn't occur and died away, barely potential. She sees all the timelines crossing, the millions of lives whose biographies were added to this massive collective mind she inhabits. Resting in Peace? Oh no, far from that. But this will come in time, about that she is sure. Just how much time she does not know.
She fears she might be getting old. Just a moment ago she was sitting on the grass, a soft breeze stiring her hair and she saw it wave before her eyes, white and shining like pure light. Did she have white hair this morning? She is not sure, she didn't look. Or perhaps she did. Mornings and nights have no real meaning here. Five seconds ago it was morning, one life time ago it was night. How long has she been sitting under this tree? She wishes she had kept a diary of her time here. Then maybe she would know. But then she remembers. She just thought that, didn't she? A finger runs through the tired covers of her blue journal. She still remembers that touch. Blue wood against her fingers. It couldn't have been too long ago, the memory is still so fresh. And just last night she was reading stories from it to the children. Where are they, her children? They were there just a moment ago. Last night. Last night - she thinks - might as well be a million years away. You are getting old, River.
She smiles to herself. Soon she'll be too old for her Doctor, she fears. That impossible man who runs backwards in time, playing hide and seek with her. They seeked, now she is hiding. And she waits. Like she's always done. She used to wait for those times when they'd meet, when their timelines would cross and she'd be alive. She's read all those pages and there are none to add. She wonders if he is still alive. She wonders how many times he regenerated since they parted, how much of her energy he's used up. It feels like she was just with him one heartbeat ago. But perhaps it's just the echo. An ancient echo her mind has saved for centuries. Perhaps, she wasn't the one waiting. Oh, you're old River, you're thinking such non-sense. But she smiles. Because she is old and she feels tired. And there is no more running to do and no more learning for her. She's read it all. Has it been a second, has it been a Time Lord's lifetime? She doesn't know, but she doesn't have to ask. She closes her eyes and goes to sleep.
She remembers those times on Earth when she was so young and so alive. They said there was Heaven and Earth. A begining to each end. And a time when you could say "Hello" after so many yars of "Goodbye". She didn't need to know if that was true, she was falling asleep and she knew her drams would be beautiful. How could they not be? Had she not lived the most amazing of lives?