Forever Secrets

Post Silence in the Library and Forest of the Dead. Life in the Library. It's been decades, and River still keeps secrets. Anita investigates, but Other Dave gets the point. Sometimes you just can't be too careful. Spoilers u/i The Angels Take Manhattan, and then some guesswork as to the meaning of The Wedding of River Song.

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, in case it wasn't quite clear yet. For the record, I don't own Harry Potter either. Or anything else you might recognise. Surprised?

Bunny of Plot: Yes.

Me: Alright, but you're delusional. You decided my head was a good place to live in!

Bunny of Plot: ...Point.

Me: Have fun reading!

"The Princess and the Centurion would never see the Traveller again, but that was okay. Their daughter brought him a message from them, telling the Traveller to never travel alone, and together, the Centurion and the Princess built a good life. The Traveller found new friends, and though none of them ever forgot the others, all three lived happily ever after." River concluded her story, carefully closing the old, blue diary with a smile at the three children, lying in their beds. CAL, sweet little Charlotte, and the children born of the Library's matrix and Cal's fantasy. The children Cal had never gotten around to naming, and had therefore been named by River. Amy and Rory, their names now were. Apparently, even the great River Song wasn't immune to nostalgia.

She looked at the three sleepy faces, and with a smile said: "Alright, to sleep now, kids." She gently kissed each of their foreheads. "It's late, close your eyes and fly away to Neverland." The children giggled, "Yes, mum. Good night, mum!" they chorused. River smiled again. Mum. She'd never even thought of kids before, not with the Doctor, not with lives like theirs. She'd never have believed being a mother, even under these only half-real circumstances, could be such a satisfying feeling.

"Good night, sweeties," she answered softly. She left the room and quietly closed the door behind her. She turned to walk away, but found that she couldn't; her path was blocked by Dave (the other one) and Anita. They were staring at her with the by now familiar mix of suspicion and nervousness. This time however, there seemed to be a hint of determination blended into their expressions as well.

"What?" River couldn't help the note of defensiveness in her voice. She'd seen exactly that look on someone else's face, many times before. "I'm an archaeologist, I'm bound to know a couple of fairytales!" Their suspicion didn't waver. River would have been surprised if it had.

"Yes, River," Anita started. It sounded like she had a speech memorised. She probably had, it was hard to out-talk River. "But how many fairytales are there about a Traveller, a Princess and a Centurion? Most, if not all of your stories are about those three characters." Now Other Dave took over: "And we've been browsing, you know, and there are actually surprisingly few stories about your favourite characters. About four hundred, maybe?" That really was very few, considering the sheer vastness of the Library. " And none of those sounded even remotely like the stories you tell the kids." The unasked questions hung heavily in the air. Who told you those stories? Where are they from? Where are you from? Who are you? River sighed.

"Fine, you got me!" she exclaimed. Years of practice, of necessity, would hopefully help her come up with a decent act now. She held her hands in the air mockingly. "I make those stories up myself. All the books in all the universe, all the stories anyone could ever ask for, and I make up my own. Yes, I, Professor River Song, have secretly always aspired to be a novelist. Happy now?" It was a rubbish lie and she knew it. Years of practice, sure, but that had been how many decades ago? Still, Dave seemed almost convinced. Anita, though, wasn't buying it.

"Who are you, River?" And for the second time in the conversation, the Doctor's face floated in front of River's mind's eye. Two of his faces, both asking the same question: "Who are you, really?" Anita sounded just too similar. So she gave the same answer: "Professor River Song, archaeologist." Not enough, it had never been enough and it never would be, not even for Anita. Especially not for Anita, who didn't want to wonder, she wanted to know. Still, if River could get out of here now, she might be able to avoid another situation like this for a while longer. So she grinned, mask on, bravado showing, flirty and confident, that was her, always. Usually for real, but she acted it even when she wasn't. So very few had ever seen through her.

Distract, get into position, and escape. Right, plan made. Now all she had to do was keep talking. So she continued: "But you knew that already, didn't you Anita?" She was walking, now, towards the both of them. "You've known me for decades, granted, all of those were here inside the Library, but that doesn't mean they don't count." Walking past them, towards the corridor. Was she going to make it? "Honestly, Anita. Why ask a question to which you already know the..." Anita's hand shot out and latched on to River's wrist. The girl sure was quick, alright. "...answer..." River lamely finished her sentence. Damn, seemed she'd pulled this trick one too many times, then. So much for a smooth escape.

River could pull herself loose now. She could twist her arm so that Anita would have to let go, easy enough, and then she could run. It had usually worked in the past, whenever she was really out of options. Except now, that wasn't an option either. Anita wasn't going to let this go, and from the looks of it, neither was Other Dave, who had now moved in between herself and the exit she'd been going for. They had forever, in theory. River needed a story now, a lie that would be as good as the truth. There had been a time when she could do that. But imagination had become so much more difficult ever since she had become just another part of a code. For all that she was still River Song, she was but a computer program.

"Anita, sweetie," she began tiredly, "would you kindly release my arm? Please?" Anita fiercely shook her head. "No River, I'm not letting you get off this time. The facts about you don't match up, you don't make sense and you're trying to hide from us why! Mysterious smiles and one-liners may have done the job out there," she pointed wildly in the general direction of the ceiling, indicating the world outside the Library, "...but I want the truth, now! And so does Dave!" Dave himself nodded quietly. "Come on, River. What've you got to lose?

Nothing. Not anymore. But this isn't about me. River, against her better judgement, continued on, pretended it was nothing. She rolled her eyes and then stared at the duo incredulously, silently questioning their mental capacities. "I am sure I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, words complimenting the look. She was in no way surprised when Anita started talking again.

"Do I need to tell you what we already know about you, River? Is that what you want? Well, alright, this is it: one day you appeared out of thin air in a hospital on New Earth, records and all, though there is hardly a trace that you even existed before then. The few traces there are don't make sense either, because you're in places you had no business being, with people you had no business knowing, for reasons unknown. Name never mentioned, either. Anyway, you, with your obviously false records, fresh out of hospital, no reason for why you were there is ever given either, go to university to study archaeology. Still nothing normal about that, as you weren't simply a talented student, you were downright brilliant! You get your degree, and then you disappear. For weeks. Next mention of you is when you are sentenced to life in prison. For murder. And that's when things get really interesting!"

Anita's voice was so shrill by this point that River started to stupidly worry that Dr. Moon might actually fail to keep the sound out of the children's room, before she realised that is was more likely that the whole room had been moved away from them. Just like the TARDIS does, she thought wistfully. Anything better than to think about how intimidating it was to be told her life story from someone else's point of few, someone who wanted the truth about her. Even if she'd felt up to lying right then, any lie she could have told them to fit the records would have been too complicated to keep straight, especially if she had to keep it up for the rest of eternity. All the same, she was grateful when Dave's calmer voice replaces Anita's frenzied shrieking.

"It is, isn't it?" he mused. "After all, you didn't actually spend a lot of time in prison, did you? Nowhere near the rest of your life. You got released, for some reason, but I'll get to that later. There are an awful lot of records around here, you see, and according to the Stormcage Prison records, you spent less than half of your nights in prison actually inside your cell. How is that even possible? Stormcage is supposed to be impenetrable. That aside, you escaped. You got out. So why didn't you stay out? Because every time you had a little adventure, you came back, of you own volition, within a few hours. One exception, about a year into your sentence, you were gone for three weeks. These very handy records say you blamed your designated driver for that?" River smiled. It had been a wonderful, if somewhat smelly, trip. All things the TARDIS had gone through considered, she should probably count herself lucky the Old Girl hadn't ended up any further off the intended date. But yes, out loud, she'd blamed the Doctor for the miss. You do not insult the TARDIS if you value your comfort. Even if the mistake had been completely understandable.

Dave eyed her smile for a moment, and then continued. "Never mind awful cabbies, though, I'm thinking of a murder victim. More specifically, your non-existent murder victim. How did you manage that? Because that's how you were released, there are no crimes without victim, after all. So, who did you kill. You must've killed someone, no other reason why you never plead innocent. Yet, after years in prison, it suddenly turns out that your victim never existed. As such, your crime did not have a victim. Which must mean that no crime has been committed. Therefore, you are innocent. So naturally, you are released. Logical." The look on Dave's face showed clearly that he considered it anything but. He continued: "So, you went back to university, became a professor in your field, and all the while, your disappearing act continued. But that's hardly the point, much easier to do by that point then from inside a prison cell, anyway. I don't much care about how you changed the records, River, or about who you killed, though I am very curious as to why. That's actually the question behind all of this, you see. I don't really need answers, if you feel you can't give them. I need reasons. Why a completely new identity? Why kill someone? Why not stay away when you've escaped? Why wait so long to clear your name?" His eyes bored into hers. "Why keep your secrets when there's no one else who might find out?"

"Also," Anita added, clearly unsatisfied not to have the last word, "we've seen a couple of pictures. Have you aged at all since you first showed up on record? 'Cause it doesn't look like it! How old are you? Are you even human? Professor River Song, what are we supposed to make of you?"

Anita's excitement calmed River down just a bit. Anger, she could deal with. Dave's calm demeanour, while better for her ears, had been far more frightening, though it had also served to kick her brain back into working order. Now she could let honest amusement show on her face. They weren't going to figure it out on their own. They hadn't yet, after all, and they had all the facts they were ever going to get. Unless they knew what they were looking for. And they didn't.

The Library still held information on the Doctor. River knew what that was: an apology. An "I'm sorry I couldn't do any better" from the Doctor himself. After all, he'd always known how she was going to die. It meant that River now had enough information on her husband to get the computer to make an acceptable copy of him for short periods of time, enabling her to have those same mad old adventures that had always kept her going, with the same mad old man she loved. They were almost as real as when she had really run with him. It also meant that, if Anita and Dave went looking for the Doctor, specifically for the Doctor, they would find him. And with him, her biggest secret. But they wouldn't. River didn't know how he had done it, but the Time Lord had changed their memories, just a little bit. For all River's companions knew, the Doctor's name was John Smith. Even River remembered herself and the Doctor introducing him like that, when they met in the Library, though she was sure they hadn't. So now, no one here had anything to go on. Now River just had to keep it that way.

"What's so funny, River?!" Anita yelled, and River realised she was still smiling. "This Library has everything, so it must have the information we need, so why can't we find it? What are we missing? River! Dave, say something!" Dave, who had never taken his burning eyes off River's, now started speaking again.

"Like I asked before, River, why? What is the point in keeping your secrets anyway? There's no one we can tell, there's no one who can use it against you anymore. It's not going to get out there, either, it's impossible! The Library's sealed and nobody even knows we're here. It's just not going to happen! Why can't you tell us, River? What is so big or great or horrible that it could still destroy you now? It's not like anyone will find out from us." A dry chuckle. "After all, dead men tell no tales..."

River could feel her placid smile turn sad. Oh, but he was right, wasn't he? It was all over. No more harm to be done, to her or by her. What were the odds? A memory played in her mind.

"It's impossible!"

"How impossible?"

"Oh, two minutes."

The odds didn't matter. They were astronomical, but then, one out of a billion chances appeared to happen to her nine out of ten times, didn't they? So she plastered on that fake bright smile again. Tried to sound joking when she said: "Don't be too sure of that one, Dave. I've seen it happen!" She turned to Anita. "You're so sure you can't tell, both of you. You're so sure it can't do any more harm. But how can you? Really?" She tugged her arm free. Anita didn't notice. "You're right, of course. It is impossible. No one will ever hear us speak again." She shook her head again, then started to walk away. "They're not my secrets, sweeties!" she called back. "It's not my secrets that I'm keeping, and to the man whose secrets they are, impossible is relative!"

How was it, she wondered, that what had brought the Doctor to trust her before he even knew her, would later be what forced her to let the only companions she had left for eternity keep on distrusting her, now, after all these years? That one biggest secret in the universe, the answer that should never have been given. If it was up to River, it would never be given again. Not by her. Not before the end of the universe. She was about to round the corner, when Dave's voice stopped her.

"All three, you said!" River froze. And all three lived happily ever after. Yes, she did say that, didn't she. The stories! How stupid could she be, leaving out a clue like that. She was starting to wonder if it was possible to grow older, if only mentally, even when you're just a string of numbers on a computer. Sure looked like it. "All three," Dave repeated. "But you have four characters, don't you? The Traveller, the Princess and the Centurion get their happy ending, but what happened to the fourth?"

River turned to face him, ignoring Anita's glare, trying to assess how much he might have guessed. The man stared at her very pointedly. Then mouthed: "The Secret Question?" hitting the nail right on the head. Calling her out on when she had told the children the story of Trenzalore, though once again without any names, places, dates... Yet with clearly the hint of a secret so big and great and horrible, that it might just still destroy the 'Traveller's' wife now, years after she had died. River met his gaze, not sure what he could see in her eyes. Fear? A threat? A warning? Determination, certainly. And maybe, just maybe, a hint of hope, that this might not be horrible. That he might get it. She spoke:

"What happened to the fourth? Dave, Sweetie, I've just told Anita, why ask a question to which you already know the answer? More importantly..." Get the message, Dave, please get the message, she thought, "Don't ask questions if you know the answer isn't for you." Don't try to work it out, you heard the story, you know why you can't know... She smiled blandly. "So, anything I can help you with?"

Anita opened her mouth, but closed it again at seeing Dave's hesitation. There was no sign of comprehension dawning on her face, which was probably a good thing, but now she seemed to realise that River's reasons might actually be good ones. Dave could be as stubborn as anyone, and Anita knew that. To see Dave convinced that he had made a mistake... Took something pretty impressive, anyway. River saw her decide to follow her friend's lead. Then she saw Dave reach a conclusion.

"Well, ladies, Proper Dave, miss Evangelista and I were going to try and conjure up Hogwarts, you know from those, ah, twentieth century? Ah, well, those Harry Potter books that we found, later on. Care to join us?" He grinned mischievously. "Should be quite the adventure." The meaning was clear: I'll stop asking. I won't exclude you. We have forever, let's enjoy ourselves. Well? River grinned.

"Sure thing, Dave! That should be fun, don't you think so, Anita?" Please, don't stay angry. We have to live with eachother forever.

A long look. A slight smile. A slow nod. "Yeah," Anita answered. I'll just have to deal with this, won't I, River? "Yeah, why not." Then I might as well just start now.

All three were smiling now, somewhat awkwardly, in fact. So River clapped her hands decisively. "Come on, now!" She exclaimed, "Those hundreds of staircases aren't going to get themselves out of a book, and I feel like running. Last in the garden eats slugs!" She dashed off, towards the corridor that had failed her so dramatically as an escape route just minutes previously. This time, no one stopped her. Chased by laughter and accusations of cheating ("You had a head start!") she felt her smile reach her eyes for the first time in decades. She was running with her friends again.

Please review! I hope you enjoyed!