A/N: Sequel to 'I keep myself busy; time goes faster that way'; I wasn't originally intending on a sequel, but was persuaded.
Disclaimer: I only own Astra.
He stays for a month.
The small cottage she lives in is suddenly so much less lonely; filled with Astra's cries and sleepy murmurs, her Doctor's laughter and tired sighs, of running water and raindrops, long nights and quiet days. Their daughter grows every day and River doesn't think she'll ever tire of looking at her; she spends hours curled up with Astra in bed, running the pads of her fingertips over pale skin and chubby cheeks and tiny toes.
One night as she settled in the rocking chair, feeding Astra and murmuring quietly, telling her all about her loud Scottish grandmother and quiet, loving grandfather, she hears a sharp inhale behind her, and she knows her husband has been standing and listening. She continues, trying to ignore him; she knows it hurts (it still hurts her too) but she'll be damned if her daughter doesn't know everything about Amy and Rory.
Oh, what she'd give for them to meet their granddaughter.
After Astra is asleep in her crib, her mobile playing and a blanket settled over her legs, she squares her shoulders and finds the Doctor in their room. He looks up, eyes tight, and she sighs softly.
"I want her to know them. If she can't meet them…I want her to at least know them," she says quietly, and he nods, hand reaching out for her. She takes it, gripping tightly; he brings her into his chest, and she clutches his tweed tightly in her fist.
He leaves two days later.
She doesn't know how she does it, sometimes.
Astra is six months old and she hasn't seen the Doctor in months; their daughter is crawling and giggling and growing so much, and she aches because she has no one to share this with. She takes pictures and videos and imprints everything in her mind so she can whisper it against his skin the next time she sees him, but it doesn't feel like it's enough.
It wasn't supposed to be this hard without him.
Every time she looks into her daughter's eyes her husband stares back; deep hazel eyes that always hold joy and laughter and love. A part of her reminds herself that she knew what she was getting into; another part of her reminds her that now she has a part of her husband always with her, and the ache eases a little. She always has a part of him to love and cherish and hold now.
But when she crawls into her cold bed alone every night and wraps herself in one of his shirts she'd stolen last time he was there so she could fall asleep surrounded by his smell, it's hard to remember that.
He's there for birthdays and Christmases and Easters; most times he's linear, sometimes he isn't. She misses him constantly; every time she sees him it's like the ache intensifies. After Astra is asleep after exhausting herself spending every second with her father, River brings the Doctor upstairs, shutting the bedroom door behind them.
She strips both of them of their clothes and they settle between the sheets; they fuck and it's slow and hard and all she wants is for the sun to never come up. She wants him to never leave; they stay in the warmth of her bed and their hands never leave the other's skin, because touch is all they have when words fail.
When she's old enough, Astra wakes them up, curling up between the two of them and whispering that it's she's happy Daddy stayed the night. River tries to hide how much it hurts that Astra has to pretend that seeing her father is a special occasion, but she understands the feeling all too well to contradict her.
When she's four, they take her to the TARDIS and stay for a few weeks; the Doctor lets her help him fly her, and they visit planet after planet. Astra's eyes are wide with excitement and amazement, and River sat quietly and watched, drinking it all in.
It's the happiest she's been in months.
The Doctor steps out into the garden, surprised to see the house mostly dark, aside from the light on in the kitchen.
He enters and there's no warm kiss of welcome from his wife, or the patter of excited feet from his daughter. There's merely the quiet hum of the heat, and the sound of a spoon hitting the side of a teacup.
"River?" he asked quietly, stepping into the cozy kitchen, finding her leaning against a counter.
"If you're expecting a warm welcome, I suggest you get back into the TARDIS and come at another time," his wife replies tersely, her grip tightening on the spoon in her hand. The Doctor's brow furrowed, trying to understand what he'd done. "Do you know what today was?"
He tries desperately to remember; he hadn't had a specific date in mind, just River. She finally turns to look at him, and alarm fills him at her red-rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks.
"It's your daughter's seventh birthday," she said, and his eyes widen as his heart drops. "And you weren't here. Do you know how hard it is to watch your daughter sit by the window and wait all day just to see that blue box appear? How hard it is to finally have to tell your daughter that she has to go to bed, and apologize for her not being able to see her daddy? Do you know what the only thing she asked for her birthday was?"
He can't answer; his throat is too dry. But River answers for him.
"The only thing she asked for was to see you," River whispers, fresh tears falling down her cheeks as her voice breaks in pain. "She didn't wantanything else; all she wanted was you."
He knows there are tears in his eyes, and he knows he should say something.
But he can't.
He'd sworn to himself he wouldn't disappoint his daughter. He'd already failed so many people; he wouldn't let her down too. She was so, so precious to him; he would do anything for her, and River.
"I don't care what you have to do, but you show up there somehow. You go back, and you be there," River says, her harsh voice breaking through his thoughts. She wipes her cheeks hastily, turning her back to him and shakily stirring her tea again. "I think you should go."
And he does; he walks to the TARDIS, and he shows up for her birthday.
The next time he sees River, they fuck in the shower and she whispers a soft apology against his skin.
River sits with Astra as her daughter reads aloud from a book the Doctor had given her, stumbling a few words, but her voice strong and clear- so like her father's. They look up at the familiar sound of the TARDIS appearing, eyes meeting as they grinned at each other.
River stands to greet him, lips curving up into a smile as she opens the door. But she falters slightly; he looks so much younger than she remembers. Astra comes up behind her, peeking excitedly around River's waist, hands clutching at her dress.
"Hello there! Who's this?" the Doctor asks, and River's heart drops to her toes. Oh, how is this possible? How can he be here if he doesn't know who Astra is? Even if their daughter hadn't been born for him, he would have been able to assume who she was.
He's so young it makes her chest ache.
"I'm Astra," her daughter says, and oh River is so grateful she's clever. But it hurts; she doesn't want to make her daughter lie to her father. She doesn't want to lie to her husband.
"This is my daughter," she manages to say, voice wavering towards the end because oh she just wants to tell him. The Doctor's eyes widen, and a shadow crosses his face briefly.
She has to remind herself to breathe.
"Can I help you, sweetie?" she asks, putting on a brave face, running her hands through Astra's soft blonde ringlets to hide her shaking fingers. He shifts, clearing his throat.
"I didn't know- I should go," he says, stumbling over his words as he shuffles backwards towards the TARDIS. Heart in her throat, she watches him go, allowing Astra to cling to her leg.
He shows up that night, her Doctor, and she doesn't say anything as she takes him to bed. His kisses are desperate and his thrusts are hard and deep, and she gives him everything he needs, because she needs it too. When he leaves the warmth of the sheets and her body, she lets him; slipping into his shirt and a pair of panties, she's climbing back under the sheets when he carries their daughter into the room. She doesn't argue when he settles Astra between, curling up around their daughter and linking his fingers with River's.
They fall asleep tangled together, and the ache eases just a little.
The years fly by (as they always do), River watches Astra grow and savors every moment the Doctor is with them. When her daughter is older, she starts going on digs again, but never anything dangerous; she's always home before Astra falls asleep.
Sometimes Astra will ask her questions about the Doctor, and River always answers; since it's mostly just the two of them, they don't like to keep secrets. Astra grows older and there are more questions; finally, when she's 18, she asks if she can travel with her father for a while.
The Doctor agrees and so does River; it's not like she won't see them. So with a long hug and kisses pressed to blonde ringlets, River waves goodbye to Astra.
She decides to go to the Library like she always wanted; she sends a message on the psychic paper for the Doctor to meet her, knowing Astra would love to be surrounded by books. She packs her gear and locks the house, and doesn't look back once.
But the Doctor she meets isn't her Doctor, and she places the crown upon her head because this is goodbye.
The last thing she whispers before the countdown finishes is her daughter's name.