"You stole the TARDIS!" River exclaims, hands on her hips and trying her best to look stern with her teenage daughter, rather than amused and a little bit proud.
"Borrowed," Emma replies, but there's none of the sparkle in her eyes that River is used to.
"What's wrong?" River asks, disapproval immediately forgotten as she goes to Emma's side. The teenager slumps against her mother, and River's anxiety intensifies.
"You never told me," Emma says, her voice anguished.
"Told you what?"
"About the Silence. You said it was nothing to worry myself about."
River squeezes Emma against her side.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Emma asks, anger and sadness mixing together. Frustrated tears spring to her eyes.
"Let's sit down and talk, my love," River tells her. When River pulls away, Emma is gazing at her with wide, sorrowful eyes. She has the Doctor's eyes, and it kills River to see this expression on either of their faces.
River weaves her finger's between her daughter, and the sight of their joint hands reminds River of when Emma was small. She's practically a woman now.
"I thought we were going to sit down together," Emma says, when her mother leads her into the TARDIS' kitchen and begins rummaging through the freezer.
"Your father's wrong you know when he tells you that jammie dodgers can fix anything," River tells Emma cheerfully. "Chocolate fudge brownie ice cream on the other hand…"
"Mum," Emma protests as she watches her mother retrieve two spoons from the cupboard. "You said we could talk."
"Are talking and ice cream mutually exclusive?" River asks before pressing a kiss to Emma's forehead. "Come on my love. Some things are better discussed cozied up with a fuzzy blanket and a pint of ice cream."
Emma watches her mother leading the way down the halls of the TARDIS towards the sitting room that they both favor. They step into the room to find that the TARDIS has already begun a roaring fire in the fireplace. Emma begins to feel some of the residual cold from that awful, drafty orphanage leaving her.
They sit on the couch in front of the fire, and River covers their laps with the throw blanket and wraps her arms around Emma's shoulder. Emma is 16 years old - she'll be going to university soon - but she lets her mother cradle her tighter anyway.
"I went to New York, 1969," Emma says, watching the fire burn in front of her. "I wanted to save you," she says, her voice breaking at the memory of a small homeless child in rags. "I know that I'm not allowed to change the past, and I promise I wouldn't do something so stupid."
"I know sweetie," River says gently.
"After I saw what happened to you in New York, I went to Florida to see what could possibly have been worse than starving to death in an alley." Emma's voice breaks and tears fall down her cheeks.
"Emma," River whispers, pressing her lips to her daughter's cheek. "Everything's all right my love."
"You never told me."
"It was a long time ago for me."
"You're a time lord."
"The past is still the past." Emma looks at her mother skeptically. "You're right that there was a lot of pain in those years, and it took some time for me to move past what the Silence did to me once I was free. But I did move on, and it is the past. Nothing more."
Emma knows that it's naive, but she has never seen her mother be anything other than unshakably strong and in control. Now all she can think of is her mother as a small, terrified child surrounded by aliens capable of controlling her thoughts.
"It's ok, Emma, I promise. This has always been my past. I'm sorry you found out on your own and that I didn't give you the answers you needed."
"It wasn't that," Emma tells her mother. "I was curious about your childhood. I knew you didn't grow up with Grandmum and Granddad. I'm sorry if you didn't want me to know."
"Don't apologize my love," River insists, snuggling her daughter against her.
Emma picks up the carton of ice cream, and for a few minutes they just sit together eating the desert in silence, Emma's head leaning heavily on River's shoulder.
"You never had this," Emma says, thinking of how very loved and safe she feels right now. They're talking about her mother's awful childhood, and all River is doing is taking care of Emma.
"Not when I was a child, no."
"I don't understand how you grew up that way - without love." River squeezes her arms tighter around Emma, and oh it just makes Emma more upset because she loves her Mum so much. "It's not fair."
"Oh Emma. It's all right my love. I didn't have the perfect childhood, but - "
"Not perfect?! Mum!"
"Shh," River says, her hand reaching up to cup her daughter's cheek. "It's the past. I hardly think of it. Do you know why?"
Emma rolls her eyes. "Because you have Dad and me?"
River chuckles and shakes her head fondly. "I should never have taught you sarcasm."
Emma sits back up, rolling her eyes again. "How could I possibly not be sarcastic. I'm your daughter."
"Yes you are. My perfect, beautiful, snarky, brilliant, kind, amazing little girl. Do you know how much I love you?"
"Of course I do Mum."
"There has been so much more joy than sadness in my life, sweetie. So, so much joy."
"You're ridiculously strong you know?"
River smiles softly at Emma, stroking her thumb over her daughter's cheek. "Life has been so very good to me. Roll your eyes all you like, but I have your Daddy and I have the most perfect daughter anyone could ever ask for."
Emma swallows around the lump in her throat. "I'm going to remind you that you think I'm perfect next time you're yelling at me for borrowing the TARDIS without asking."
"I'll tell you a secret, love. You got that from me too."
"You never tell me any of the good stories."
"Didn't want you to pick up any more of my bad habits."
"I love you so much Mum," Emma says, arms wrapping around River tightly. "I'll never be able to thank you properly, but you've always been the very best mother anyone could want."
"It's easy, my love. Even with the occasional TARDIS theft, you have brought me nothing but joy since you were born."
Emma stares down at her hand for a minute. "Was it hard being a mother when you never really got to have one?"
"Not for a second," River replies beaming at her daughter. "I was afraid when I found out I was pregnant; I didn't know if I would be able to be the kind of Mum you deserved. But then you showed up and everything just made sense. My sweet little girl."
"I'm not a little girl anymore," Emma says lightly.
"You'll always be my little girl. No matter how old you get or what face you wear or what you do or where you go, you will always be my daughter and I will always love you."
Emma knows of course. Has always known. She just smiles and nods and picks the pint of ice cream back up and hands River her spoon. "That's the spirit," River says, content that her daughter knows what River herself never knew, and digging her spoon back into the ice cream. "If you have more questions I want you to ask me. No more stealing the TARDIS and going off on your own. Do you hear me?"
"Yes Mum," Emma replies, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Maybe I'll teach you to hot-wire a car. Do you think that will distract you from going galavanting through time and space on your own?"
"Not a bad start. I don't have a very long attention span though. You might need to move on to teaching me about the other crimes you've apparently committed."
"Nice try."
"We'll debate it tomorrow," Emma says, filling her mouth with ice cream.
"That you get from your Dad. You do know that he doesn't actually win our arguments, don't you? I just humor him on occasion."
"Yeah, but I'm cleverer than Dad. Anyway, I don't want to go anywhere now. I'm comfortable right here," Emma says, leaning her head on River's shoulder.
"Me too sweetie," River murmurs into her daughter's hair.
When the Doctor finds his family hours later Emma is curled in her mother's arms, both women asleep, an empty pint of ice cream beside them.