It's been a busy, crazy, painful summer, with a muse thats been all over. Which is why I'm still working on the next Echoes update. More on the painful in the end notes.

Anyway, hope you enjoy this and my attempt at editing isn't too bad.

Reminder - This takes place early series 8, a bit after Time Heist. So character growths and relationships further in haven't grown or happened yet.

"Where love is concerned, too much is not even enough." — Pierre Beaumarchais

Love Utmost
_

Memories were strange. They could be called forth with effort or there without any at all. They could be lost in a space of hours, even minutes, for no logical reason and sometimes cling regardless of the degrading of time. Over a thousand years had gone violently by, casting a shadow over his mind, fogging the past like a steamed up mirror. Of the memories, that weren't damaging to his tattered hearts, there were some he struggled to regain clarity, others he feared lost for good. Yet memories of her, of River Song, remained the clearest. Untouched by time.

Unfortunately that included the clarity of remembering her lying in a bed in a hospital room. Pale, young, and a whole timeline yet to fill with adventures. Gazing down at her, The Doctor, like then, could feel it all pulse against him. Her life, the brilliance of it singing to his own and whispering promises of a lifetime full of possibilities.

He ached from it both then and now.

Closing his eyes, he pictured her on that throne, a crown of metal thorns, a tear streaking down her face. He rubbed a hand over his own and through his hair. All those possibilities, all that potential cut far too short.

And I could have given it to her. I still could. Warn her, change it, save her.

Yet that option wasn't even on the table. Oh, he could physically do it. He wanted to even if it meant giving her up, but she wouldn't want it. And that was what would ultimately keep him in check and prevent his mouth from saying what it shouldn't.

" You watch us run."

Sighing, the Doctor shook away her voice, looked down at her and brushed a curl from her face. He was, as he always had been, dazzled by her and in that moment unable to stop the smile from teasing at his lips. She was going to be fine; he wasn't losing her prematurely. Time wasn't being rewritten. A fear that had begun to needle at him.

While he could do nothing about that day, the one he'd give anything to change, he could rest assured his younger self would have her in his life for many years. And that was more than enough reason to smile, to feel the long missed sense of joy.

Glancing around it occurred to him that she wouldn't like waking in a hospital environment, even onboard the TARDIS. He began tidying up, musing on where to bring her. Only partly aware of Clara's presence as she walked back in the room.

"... even so, I can stay."

It took him a moment to catch up to whatever she was babbling on about. Oh, yeah, River resting. Concern for him. Being company. Unnecessary friendship comfort.

He sighed and turned to her. "No. Go get some beauty sleep. You need it."

Clara gave him the teacher frown. Funny how that particular formation of facial muscles could cross time, space, and species. A universal expression of disapproval.

"You are just lucky my self esteem doesn't depend on you, I'd be a right misery if it did. "

The Doctor only stared at her. Even with his new found joy, he was unwilling to be social or have the skills for it.

"Fine... " She fought off a yawn, failed and shook her head. "I can take a hint. "

She took one last look at River, relieved that her wound hadn't been life threatening. For a few moments Clara had feared that he'd lose her again and...

And that fragile hold on sanity? No, humanity... no that wasn't quite right either. Whatever it was, she'd been afraid he'd lose it. That was a frightening thought.

"Get some rest Doctor. " Despite him drilling holes into her with his eyes, Clara laid a hand on his arm and squeezed.

He grunted and watched her leave, as soon as she was far enough away he spun on his heel and was to River's side in a second. Not sure yet on where he was bringing her but knowing he didn't want her waking up here. It felt important to him, this her shouldn't experience that. And so she wouldn't.

With her secure in his arms, The Doctor left the med bay and to his surprise his feet took him to a room he hadn't planned on taking her. Their room. The room he refused to step foot in for centuries.

Just as he turned to find somewhere else, there was a warm pulse of reassurance. A reminder that the old girl not only understood the timey wimey rules but this was her child. Resigned, he put one foot in front of the other and stepped through the door.

Placing her on the bed, the Doctor tucked her in, fussing at the blankets and the lay of her curls. Refusing to recognize the behavior, he didn't stop until it felt right. Looking up and around as he sat on the side of the bed, he finally took in the details of the room.

The TARDIS definitely understood. She always did. The room was familiar to him, a snap shot of a much earlier point in their marriage. Nothing to give away what River didn't need to know.

It surprised him, he had expected it to hurt, to feel like a thorn in his heart. Rather it felt good, the way old happy memories did. Warm and comforting. The anesthetic of love, a numbing agent to endure the nonsense.

Standing, he began quietly puttering around the room. Needing to be doing, activity of some kind, so he wouldn't think about the past. The room may not have stirred pain but memories of her still had that power. The 'doing' worked, though his thoughts remained on her anyway. The memories of just a while ago replaying viciously, for a few terrible minutes death had been at her door.

He felt a shift in the air while rearranging her dresses for a third time. It was an oppressive weight, the well known psychic push of fear before she whimpered. Fighting off the once, and for her still, all to real enemies in her dreams. The Doctor returned and sat at her side, leaning down to cup her face. Murmuring a Gallifreyian lullaby, her favorite, releasing the powerful words of belonging and peace to weave around them.

In some places the thin streams of colour the words produced, the very real affect they had, would be considered magic, for time lords a very old science. One rarely used as its power could be frightening, between them it was a private method to deal with personal demons. A type of intimacy.

After no more than a few minutes River calmed, her breaths became even, her hearts slowing to a rhythmic unified beat. The Doctor pulled back and hung his head, emotionally exhausted. Not from the act of comforting her but the memories of doing so before.

He remembered the first, last, and many times in between vividly. The way it felt to crawl into the bed beside her after a nightmare, holding her close as she often had done for him, shouldering a part of the others burdens. Now though he had to step away. The years between them, on the vastly warped time line, were to large a gap to be ignored.

The Doctor could help River Song with whatever had brought her to Lahsinvat, but he could not crawl into a bed beside her, feel her warmth, or comfort the way he once had.

Too old...I'm too old. Over a thousand years between us and so much ...to tangle in. Too old to be the man she loves.

He moved from the bed and her side, putting physical distance between them though he couldn't with his thoughts. Alternating between watching her sleep to fingering items on her cluttered vanity. Half amused that most of what was there was less with vanity and more to do with souvenirs from various adventures and trips, some he had a sneaky suspicioun were neither bought or found.

"I can hear you thinking. "

His eyes snapped from tracing the delicate preserved flower attached to the side of the mirror to hers. A smile gently teased at her mouth; and there were questions held in the lines and curves of her beautiful but exhausted face while her eyes searched him, sizing this him up.

"Only because you're nosey and stubborn."

"I learned from the best."

River slowly eased herself up a little. He wanted to help her but took too long battling himself before she finished. By the time he stepped closer she was eyeing her side where she'd been grazed, peeling back the gauze to have a look at the red skin there. Confusion flickered across her face.

"You were poisoned." He supplied.

"Poisoned? That's...unexpected. I thought I'd been shot at. A v79 blaster, typical of the century. "

She really did frighten him with her 'every day occurrence ' attitude. A habit, she never did stop, even when she gained a reasonable amount of sense. When she was rested and his hearts quit yammering, there was going to be explanations as to why he almost lost her. And what was it with museums?

Homes of assumptions, ignorance, and attempted murder. That much at least.

"Go back to sleep. "

"No. And why do you look as if I'm going to bite you?"

"Because it's a distinct possibility. "

"It is, isn't it. " She sighed wistfully, clearly remembering several past biting incidents.

"I can make you sleep."

"Make me? You are such an impossible dreamer." Her tone gave it a sense of playful insult rather than a compliment.

"It's not a dream when it's a fact." He countered, appearing miffed when he was amused. He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed these games. The details, the give and take of words, had changed because he had, but the general rules, they had remained the same.

None of that though, the enjoyment, however stopped him from intending to win because he really wanted her to sleep. She was still pale, exhausted, and if they hadn't of been there she'd have lost her life. Stubborn woman.

The smile on her face wavered a little and he wondered if he elephant in the room had sat on her. The one that kept sitting on him, reminding him that he wasn't bowtie, the man that owned her hearts. Did he still own them as she owned his? Or would she smile, flirt with, and care for him, though void of the love she once had for him? Would she run back to bowtie with relief ?

He couldn't blame her. Even so, the idea bothered him, it hurt.

It seemed cowardly and ridiculous that he couldn't open his mouth and ask her. He said everything else without filter. The right of a tired old 'scotsman'. Yet with her it was all out of kilter, twisted about and he was the pudding brain.

"Right. I think..." she paused, and his chest constricted in wait. "I could be convinced to sleep if you joined me." River patted the bed, a sly smile slowly easing across her lips.

"I..uh..." He shook his head, perhaps more vehemently then he intended. " No. I don't do... "

"Sleeping? " She questioned with a raised brow.

Relief that she wasn't rejecting him proceeded the terror of whatever it was that sat in her eyes. Not a notion of seducing him, no the emotions in her eyes were tender and there was acceptance. The latter slammed at him. He could barely accept himself and she looked sleepily up at him as she always had. With trust and affection.

"I doubt your sleeping habits have improved Sweetie, so I know you'll need it too."

Staring at her, The Doctor debated, tempted to put a finger to her forehead and command her to sleep. Be done with all the nonsense. It wasn't that simple though. Forgoing nonsense wasn't an option when it was the woman he was madly in love with rather than a little boy he didn't know.

"Fine. Alright, I'll sit next to you. Only..." he pointed a finger at her, "if you sleep. Not me, you and none of the tongue flabbing or ..." Once again she put it all off kilter.

"Pillow talk?" She grinned, pleased.

"Yes, that too."

"What was the other? "

His brows knit together, "Other what?"

River yawned, "Sorry. You said 'that too'. So what was the other? "

The Doctor watched with narrowed eyes while she settled down beneath the covers in wait for him. Oh, he knew this game. Bowtie would have tongue tied himself into knots but not him. Okay, so he hadn't wanted to mention it further in fear she'd get ideas. Too late now.

"Hugging. There will be no hugging." He stated, adding on almost a mumble. "...or canoodling of any kind."

She frowned at him as he came around the other side of the bed. "Hugging? I can't hug you? Are you kidding? " Her eyes blazed with an emotion he didn't like and didn't want to try to interpret.

Admittedly telling his wife she couldn't hug him in bed did sound asinine. He sat stiffly next to her and took the cowardly excuse, softening his tone. "You need sleep, not distractions. "

Those enigmatic, colour teasing green eyes bore into his. It didn't matter that she looked positively ready to sleep for a century. "I suppose." She finally responded, turning completely away.

If that wasn't code for 'your heads up your arse' he didn't know what was. Well, it was a fine predicament he was in. Sitting on their bed next to his upset wife after many many years of wishing for the very situation he was in. Bed and wife. The smell of her, the feel of her near him.

Silence reigned as she laid beside him, facing away and not remotely sleeping because he sat there stiff as cardboard after declaring no physical affection. Minutes slipped on in which an eternity passed and a headache began to cause a tick over his left eye.

He was worse than an idiot pudding brain, as stupid and cowardly as they come. He was hung up on not wanting to be touched in ways that felt too intimate, a physical pain when his bubble was breached. He had excuses for it, that he told himself; but if he was honest, he had no real clue what his problem was.

There had been lifetimes of loving a hand in his, a hug from even a stranger. The physical contact from a friend. Even a goofy grin at the unexpected kiss. Now he was The Doctor, a man who can't be hugged and destined to alienate his wife who he hadnt seen in centuries.

What was wrong with him?

The level of irritation he felt towards himself couldn't be quantified. There was no way, no bloody way, he was going to let it stand here. She needed sleep and reassurance and he needed to get a grip.

Taking a deep breath, The Doctor resettled himself into a more at ease position and laid a hand on her shoulder, unsurprised when he felt the slight tightening of muscles. He'd done some damage and at this point it could easily be mended but it had to be now.

"River." It was all he said in the barest of whispers. An apology and a plea.

She turned over enough to look at him, met his eyes and he let her see. For that moment he opened up what he usually kept a vault door over. This was his wife, young yes and so vulnerable, but it was that side of her that sung to his own tender side.

Without speaking, she rolled to him and he gathered her close till her head rested on his thigh. The rest of her stretched out tight against him. He let his fingers brush through her curls as her arm went over him, hugging him, embracing him.

"You should probably use a pillow. I'm a bit... boney now. "

"I'm good." She murmured.

Closing his eyes, The Doctor leaned his head back against the headboard and focused on her breathing, the feel of her skin beneath his hand. It shouldn't have surprised him that her touch didn't feel like a intrusion. It felt right.

He'd been missing it.

With her breathing and hearts starting to ease into the rhythm of sleep, he gently shifted down. Refusing to think about what he was doing, only knowing he wanted more. More of her. Laying all the way down, he pulled her closer still, till her legs mingled with his and his arm was around her, pressing her to him.

"I thought we were against distractions. "

He smiled into her hair and closed his eyes.

"Shut up and sleep."

"I can stay. As you often remind me. " Clara held her hands up to indicate around them. "Time machine."

"As you often insist." He nodded at the door and gave a quick flick of his eyes at her attire. " Life outside. Dates, teaching, and all that. "

Clara glanced at herself and rolled her eyes. Who the hell knew what her clothes had to do with this. "Yes, and I can go back to that life, after."

He sighed, annoyed. She was his carer, so he didn't have to, not his babysitter while he had a play date with the wife. "Or you can stop being a mother hen, go back to your life and I'll pick you up some point in the next century, and why are you giving that look?"

"You're nervous." She declared with a barely suppressed grin. "You are nervous cause she's here and you're... "

"Old. Yes, Clara. I'm mad with terror. " He threw his arms up " why wouldn't I be? She's... River Song, Professor of Archeology and trouble, stunning, defiant of explanation and I'm an old grouchy idiotic Scottish Timelord who wishes people would stop trying to hug, squeeze or kiss me like they have nothing better to do."

Clara's grin shifted to an understanding smile, he was thrown off balance. "I was going for different, not old. I really can't imagine her caring if you're 2,000 or 200. I don't even think, if she's anything at all like you say or what I vaguely know, she's going to care that you are different than you were before. Or Scottish and grouchy, she'll probably enjoy both. "

He huffed, "oh, I'm a long way from being 200. That's like saying your dating fellow doesn't mind if you're 5 rather than..."

"Twenty-seven" She supplied dryly. "And that is not the same or the point."

"Point being what? My charming personality? How hug and kissable I am, because we both know how much I enjoy that." It was hard not to picture his wife's eyes after his no hug declaration.

Clara giggled ignoring his sarcasm, "You know if anything that kiss, was your fault. " Referring to their misadventure where the blue fish looking woman gave the Doctor a good snog for his trouble. Clara wisely decided not to add that he wasn't hugged, squeezed, or kissed nearly as much as he imagined.

"How is it my fault? Next time I'll leave them all to die. "

"Right, excellent plan. Sadly, it won't save you when you turn on the boyish charm." A glare was tossed at her in reply.

Clara leaned against the console after watching him for a few minutes. " Why are you trying to get rid of me if you're nervous? "

He started to snarl for Clara to shut up when his eyes fell on the figure on the upper landing and all breath left his body. It was funny, she still had that effect on him. From that first smile in the library he had felt the pull of her. Fighting it or embracing it, she never did stop stealing his breath or robbing him of sense.

Standing on the landing, not far from the hall that led to their bedroom. River looked down at them with unruly curls and bright inquisitive eyes. Her face had the drooped look of someone just woken but she looked miles better.

"Am I interrupting? " She asked and he was sure she didn't care if she was.

Clara smiled up at her. "No, not at all. In fact, I was just saying to the Doctor that I can stay if he-" She paused at the look in the other woman's eyes. "If you both wanted me to."

She did know she was only his friend? Or perhaps not. Clara glanced between them and settled her gaze on the momentarily stupefied Doctor. No, of course she didn't, probably thought her husband had moved on.

Uh uh, Clara Oswald was not the other woman. Even mistakenly, just... No.

Tempted to hug him, viciously, back to reality, she decided instead to lightly punch his arm. She received a startled glare in response.

"What did you do that for? "

"You're a man. "

His glare deepened then shifted when she tipped her head up towards River, who was watching them warily, and whispered, "Jealous. Fix now. "

The Doctor frowned, "What? You're jealo -"

"Not me. Her." Clara all but snapped in her whisper. Rather than kick him, she spoke up enough for River to hear. "I should go. I have that date tonight."

"There's no need to rush on my account. " River came down to the bottom of the stairs .

Eyebrows drawn together, the Doctor frowned up at her. Was she jealous? Of Clara? What did she think the whole bed/hug canoodling thing hours before was about?

"River, this is my... just... Clara. She isn't anyone. " He realized how rude his (moronic) stuttering sounded and knew Clara was going to make him pay for it later.

River laughed, a genuine laugh that made him pleasantly tingle. It also, admittedly, confused him. "No need to sprain yourself, sweetie. I know who she is to you."

Okay.

"It wasn't difficult to figure out since I learned that 5 was the new 200, and Clara, there is no need to go."

There was laughter in her eyes and in the corners of her mouth. It was so like her to go from jealousy to amusement at his expense, in the blink of an eye.

Clara grinned with relief and at the look on the Doctor's face. "I honestly don't mind giving you space if you two need or want it. "

"You just want to get to your hot date."

"Oh look who said hot date. And yes, I do...eventually. " Clara glanced at River with a conspiratorial grin, "Kinda want to see how all this plays out first."

His scathing reply went unsaid as River had come to stand next to the console, to stare at one of the screens, remarking. "We're still on Maricanore."

Deciding he'd had enough of being clueless and of Clara's teasing, the Doctor turned to River and for a moment forgot all the years between them. "It appears so. Even if the TARDIS decides to let us leave, there is still the pesky problem of why these. "

He placed on the console the poison darts he had found in the flowers along the mountain trail. One of which, had traces of her blood on it from when it grazed her. Graze didn't remotely feel like the right word when it almost cost him her. It was time for some answers.

River stared at them. He could see by her eyes when she went from confusion to an unsettled concern. "What is going on? A bit overkill."

"My sentiment exactly. And please, River. What, this time, has security shooting at you? "

"You make it sound like I've a regular appointed schedule with Lahsinvats museum security. "

Clara had stepped back to watch, fascinated by the history weighted in the air between them. Amused, she wondered if they had forgot she was still there.

"With Lahsinvat, no. But after five heists -"

"Five? Oh... I can look forward to more." She grinned then winked. "Spoilers. "

He scowled, a low growl escaped, annoyed he let that slip. He knew far too much of her life to go on handing out teasers.

"River. " He locked eyes with her. "Why? "

It was obvious his blue eyes under angry eyebrows didn't affect her, River remained unperturbed by his gaze. He could see, though he had no idea why, that it was something else that caused her to look away.

"It's Jim. "

"Jim? Jim the Fish. " He remembered now her mentioning him earlier, when she'd barrelled through the TARDIS doors and back into his life.

She nodded, stroked a hand along the console edge, then looked up, fire dancing in her eyes. " Kidnapped and I traced him to here in Lahsinvat. "

"Seems odd to steal a painting you can't hang up, sell, or store without a great deal of trouble. "

"You'd think so. There's a lower vault beneath the museum and that's where he's at."

The Doctor scratched an itch above an eyebrow, a reaction to the confusion he felt. Why anyone would take Jim was the question of the day. "He'll cause a splash if they're not careful."

"I hope so. Easier to keep an eye him if he does."

"That won't be a concern. " The Doctor flicked a glance at the dart. " The security for a stolen painting is a bit extreme. "

"Okay, sorry. Let me see if I have this straight. " Clara interrupted, tired of being lost from their cryptic discussion. "You have a friend, Jim. A 'fish', some sort an art procurer? And he stole an important painting?"

River smiled and took a seat, "The fish. And he's been stolen."

The Doctor frowned at the evident fatigue on Rivers' face so soon after wakening. How much poison had she gotten into her system?

"Ok. Actually no, I'm lost."

To answer Clara's confusion and save his wife a moment of trouble, he pulled up a photo of a painting. A Claude Monet impressionist style of a figure swimming next to a dam. Trees and wild flowers sat pretty in the back ground.

"So that's the painting?"

"No, that's Jim. "

Clara blinked, opened her mouth, then closed it. She stepped closer and her jaw nearly dropped as she watched the figure in the painting swim. The trees, she realized, also seemed to be moving slightly as if blown by wind.

"Is it moving? " She looked between the two of them before her eyes glued back to the screen. "It's moving! How is it moving? It's a picture of a picture that's moving."

"Yes, dear, I do say it is." River chuckled, continuing on like the professor she would someday be. "Man at the Dam, or as he's more commonly known Jim the Fish. One of the last ancient living art masterpieces. And yes, whether the original or a photo of it, there is movement. Though photos lack some of the details."

Clara couldn't imagine what details were missing as there was plenty already going on.

"Each piece is unique and all contain a solitary figure. A vault, of the paintings, was found early in human exploration, First Colony era. Their origin is unknown and there has been plenty of juicy theories or gossip over the centuries because of it." River flicked an amused glance The Doctor's way. "including that they are the mad creations of a Timelord. Some say the Time Lord, or another advanced race, imprisoned the lost souls trapped in the painting. "

The Doctor snorted.

Clara glanced at him. "Are they Time Lord? Like the painting at the gallery?"

"No, not Time Lord, though old. Very old, and that painting was a stasis unit, a captured moment in time. These paintings Clara are alive, properly alive. Jim, the trees, flowers, even the tiny specks meant to be fish... all alive. There's flowing water, a breeze through leaves, night and day, and even seasons. Poor Jim, has a heck of a time come winter." His fascination and wonder vibrated off him now. Clara watched him with a grin as he moved around the console and explained.

"The paintings have fallen into different hands through the centuries, their last home, at the Living Art Society. A group, and gallery, formed to protect them."

"Which he founded. " River added.

"No, I gave them a nudge in the right direction. "

"More like a push."

"Push, nudge... regardless. Jim should be with them, given the appropriate care. " He turned back to River. "How did you find out about this? "

"I came back to Stormcage after my last outing to an inquiry. They thought I took him, imagine that? " She smirked at his bland face. "Right, I received the same benefit of doubt, only I was able to prove I was nowhere near Jim during the time in question. "

"How? "

"Mercedes. " She offered in the way of an explanation, brows raised knowingly.

It took a moment, while life with her wasn't fuzzy he still had to focus to recall details. After all, it had been a thousand years ago, literally.

"Ah, " he drew out slowly. Wondering, but holding back the question on how she used that to prove her innocence, it wasn't the sort of question ask in front of company.

Clara didn't need to be a genius to imagine what 'Mercedes ' included.

"Yes," River's mouth twitched with a smug smile and her eyes teased without shame. All the while her tone of voice remained serious. "And I am hardly going to leave it up to the sharp minded authorities to save our friend."

"Understandably. "

"What I don't understand is why here or why poison darts? In fact " She frowned now, "I was only casing the musuem-"

"Security measures, guards, layout?"

She nodded, "I shouldn't have stood out. Just another tourist or student snapping approved shots and taking notes. But they made me Doctor. Not the friendly we find you suspicious act either. "

Considering the outcome he had to agree. If the museum security not only gave chase at the sight of her, but then proceeded to attempt to kill her and by unconventional means, it meant this was far more complicated than retrieving stolen art.

It added more weight to why the TARDIS decided to intervene. Not solely because of the poison, though that was more than enough in his books. It also begged the question, why him... this face and not Bowtie?

Questions, he knew, they all wanted answered. With a thoughtful glance at River, it was clear she needed a few days before they rescued Jim. That, unfortunately, meant dealing with two stubborn women.

Sending the TARDIS on her way, The Doctor was pleased to discover they had left Maricinore. One less individual to argue with.

"Right. Here's how it's going to go." He started, and received identical 'excuse me' expressions from both women. "Clara, you go have your hot play date, teach, and watch inaccurate telly documentaries or whatever you do. River, you'll rest."

Clara shook her head, "Okay, what are you up to?"

"I'm not up to anything. I'm telling you to go have your date ."

"Then we're not rescuing Jim? "

"No, not yet." He glanced over at River. "There won't be a rescue, not till we're all a hundred percent. And I understand, exactly, why poisoned darts to protect a painting. "

Clara stared at him a minute, "Alright, fair enough. I'll go." She pointed a finger at him." As long as you keep your promise. "

"Promise? " River asked what had taken him a second to remember what Clara was referring to.

"I said bank heists, not museums. "

Clara rolled her eyes and turned to River. "Any bank heists I go with, and since he felt no qualms about bringing me along to rob the most secure bank in the universe, there shouldn't be an issue to include me in on a bit of museum B & E, right? "

River smiled and he knew exactly what she was thinking. "I like you. And absolutely, it shouldn't."

Looking pleased with the Rivers' response, Clara gave half a wave. "Now with that decided I'll say later. See you in a few days, Doctor. "

The Doctor scowled at her back as she left, then turned to River. "You."

"Me? "

"She doesn't need your help. Does fine on her own. "

"I can't seem to help myself."

The Doctor gave a slight shake of his head and leaned against the console. The off kilter effect her presence brought was still in full effect. He wanted to bury his face in her hair and hide away from her with equal intensity. Contrary desires were common enough for him, but this woman brought her own particular set of them, it drove him to distraction.

He glanced up at her to find her watching him intently. The command like suggestion that she should rest never formed, and instead he remembered the look on her face from the balcony. Other words slide out despite him.

"So.. jealousy. Good colour on you." Her occasional bouts of jealousy, in the past, had often proved to be... eventful.

River laughed, "I was, I admit for all of about five seconds. Then I remembered you're you."

"I'm me? "

"Intergalactic wag. "

"Oh, harsh." He almost smiled, amused.

" When it fits... so Scottish? "

"I figured since being ginger remains elusive I'd give top notch complaining a try."

She nodded approvingly, "Nice. It suits you and Amy would love it."

"You should go rest."

"Are we starting that again? No distractions? "

He sighed. "You were poisoned River. You need rest, it's not a tactic of evasion. "

The manner in which she looked at him, made him feel transparent. "Rule one, the Doctor lies and you are now."

"About what? Don't believe me? Here look at your scan results. "

"You pushed Clara out the door because you don't like her seeing you this way "

"What way?" The Doctor scowled, annoyed at himself for indulging her as much as he was annoyed she could see through him.

"That's the question, isn't it. Sweetie, despite the popular belief, I can't read your mind because I'm your wife. You pushed her out the door and now that we're alone, you're anxious to get away from me. I think that's two questions, in the lie, we both could use answered. "

He looked her over, really looked her over. The air of vulnerability was there, she was young, but it seemed that wisdom, the ability to read him had rooted early on.

"Where are we for you? Before Mercedes. "

By the expression on her face, he knew he would have to eventually explain himself. For now she'd let him evade.

"Hemshire. Does this mean more trips to Mercedes?"

"Spoilers. " It slipped off his tongue far more easily than he'd envisaged. "It means I'm old and quite possibly suffering from senility. "

River looked at him doubtfully then sighed. "You are such hard work older."

"Dear God, you're hard work young."

The echo of her voice in his head made him swallow and turn aside to hide his face, his pain. The hate he felt for The Library rivaled that of the Daleks, and in moments like this it surpassed it. The neverending loss of her, always reverberating inside him.

He flipped switches and toggles, puttered around as he found his voice. Normal, level.

"Says the woman who refuses a much needed nap."

There was silence. A heavy one that made him want to peek at her, reassure himself she was still there.

While resisting, he was startled when she asked. "Do you cook?"

Turning round the Doctor gave a text book expression for incredulous. "I'm sorry, what? "

"Do you cook or has that fallen away with the bow tie and senility? "

He furrowed his brows," I prefer... fetching and you're hungry. I should have thought. Sorry. "

River smiled, a soft, loving smile that brought with it memories of sipping tea and their legs dangling from the TARDIS. Funny what came to mind.

"I am yes, though I was thinking of you. "

"Me?"

She merely shook her head in response, then stood to cross over to him. Like a sailor mesmerized by the voice of a siren, he was with her. Unable to act, look away, or resist her taking his hand in her own.

The green of her eyes shifted tones, and tantalized with blue, refusing to give up the secrets they protected. His eyes were held captive, and his hearts tripped at the emotion shining back at him.

"River." A gravely whisper that became the whole of his vocabulary as his mind went blank. Oh hell, he loved her.

The intensity of it hit him like a tsunami by the simplicity of the moment being shared. The feel of her hand in his, the hint of a smile on the corner of her lips, the sleep pressed curls brushing against her ears.

"Yes, you. A scarecrow with eyebrows. "

He couldn't hold back the grin that took over, didn't want to.

She ran her free hand down the lapel of his magician's coat. "Take out, I suppose that is marginally better than fueling up on a bowl of custard."

"I did that only the once. I ran out of fish fingers and was saving face."

The grin that lit up her face was worth admitting all such moments.

"I suspected so."

A force, her gravity, pulled at him. He suffered an alarming urge to feel her lips against his own. So strong, he thought he felt his body lean in towards her, but he had to have imagined that, surely.

In her eye's, The Doctor saw a mirroring of desire. With his eyes wide like saucers, he stammered something incoherent, until she leaned up and placed a gentle kiss. A soft brush of her mouth to his, sweet and reassuring. It was exactly what he needed.

Stepping back, River took in a breath. "Well dear. I'm famished and you can fetch us take away, your choice."

There was a mental stutter as his mind caught up to what she said. "As you like. Though I drive. "

Her laughter was a bright sound, saying she'd let him as long they ended up where he intended. The fullness of the moment washed away any left over hesitation. He was old, probably foolish to indulge, but there was no resisting her.

They'd eat take out, she'd rest, and then together they would save Jim the Fish.

Picking the cuisine, The Doctor put the TARDIS into motion, the poison darts falling into his line of sight and reminding him once more. It was all fragile, her there with him now. They could laugh and forget for a time but saving their friend wasn't going to be an adventure to take for granted.

TBC...

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Okay, for those interested. I have, unfortunately, been battling a several month sinus infection, the return of vitamin d deficiency, colitis, and a newly aquired stomach ulcer. None of which make writing easy or my muse reliable. But I'm still here, plodding along.

If you haven't already, please check out the first oneshot posted in my 11/River story Reflection Within Our Paradox.