Notes: This is both a bit late and a bit - a lot - longer compared to everything I've posted in this story so far, but there was really no way to cut it off earlier in order to make them more balanced. It's not the end of the world, given that it's just a thousand-ish words above the last one, but it still irks me enough to want to stick to this new length now. ;D Next time, we're back to River's POV, as I'm sort of feeling the absence of her insight already.

Hope you enjoy it and feedback is always welcome!

For a moment, the Doctor thought that all of their hours assembling the technology that could track down her TARDIS had been in vain. The time and the place felt the same – it was in the air, almost imperceptible and as vague as all the other senses of a Time Lord tended to be. They had either moved insignificantly or not at all.

And yet, the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes were River's bright smile – the kind that usually meant triumph with a dash of preening over yet another job well done. It was a sight familiar – and pleasant – enough to nearly bring her to tears before the Doctor managed to compose herself.

"I take it that it worked."

"It did," River confirmed. Her hold on the Doctor was surprisingly strong and she realised several seconds too late that her wife was just about the only thing keeping her on her feet. Vortex Manipulators were so crude and always required some getting used to and she'd never liked them particularly much, but suddenly, they were her favourite thing in the world.

Well, second favourite. The gold medallist was actually standing right in front of her.

"Where are we?"

"Back here, two days and some three hours and twenty-five minutes ago. Quite close, I think. I gave us a few minutes of leeway just in case, but if your ship's vanished, we should get at least another hour before all traces manage to—is this a music hall?"

It did, as a matter of fact, look like precisely that at first glance, and even if it wasn't, it was a thoroughly ridiculous place for a ship – an actual, human vessel – to end up without any help from anyone. The Doctor winced.

"Is there any chance that your calculations were wrong?"

"They've never been wrong before." River was put together enough to not start entertaining the idea that an exception was possible. It was a predictable reaction, given her usual 100% success rate with time travel, but the Doctor had still hoped that it would be so outlandish as a suggestion that it would throw her away for a moment. "And I'm pretty sure that's not the case now. This isn't where you landed, right?"

There was no way out of it now unless she wanted to actually lie. It was too counterproductive an option to even consider at this point. This place was what she had been aiming for, and even if it was several decades – centuries, perhaps, even – into the future, it was still fully recognisable.

"No, it's not. It's where I was trying to land, but," the Doctor shrugged helplessly, as if it would be any help when it came to distracting River - River of all people - from the fact that a ship had somehow found itself inside the Apollo Theatre. The ship of someone who had until that moment pretended to be a perfectly ordinary and innocent if a bit persistent ship captain, no less. "It didn't exactly work out. We bounced right off, ended up in Central Park instead. And then they were gone."

"So there's something in this building that's stopped you from entering by force." River was typing away on the Vortex Manipulator again. She had already loaded it with enough tech that it was a miracle it still managed to work. "You said you were aiming for here. Were you aiming for now?"

Right, back to the clueless act, then. This was getting a little too close for comfort and once River had sensed that something was up, she wouldn't let it slide quite as easily as she'd done until now. Best to avoid it as a situation altogether. "I'm not sure what you mean."

River's arched eyebrow was almost enough to get her to confess everything then and there. She had always been an expert at drawing out the information she wanted with any means she had on hand. The prospect of what she had on hand now was both incredibly tempting and explosively dangerous. "I mean," she said slowly, "Is your ship fit for travel in time or only in space?"

"Just space." A fit of odd, nervous laughter followed the statement. "I'm not sure my people's technology is that advanced yet, Miss Malone."

"Your people, which would happen to be—"

"I'm afraid I can't go this far."

"Ah." Disappointed but not surprised. This the Doctor could deal with. "Yes, I suppose you couldn't."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She hadn't meant to snap at her, but it had come out exactly that way; enough for her wife to turn towards her again, expression almost astonished at the tone she'd been met with.

"I deal with a lot of unique cases, you see," she said. Despite the nonchalance, there was something both cynical and a little condescending in her voice. It was rich coming from her considering all the secrets she tended to keep, but the Doctor couldn't afford to tell her as much right now - or ever, if she could help it. "People take vows for secrecy or have names that their human shapes can't pronounce or they're just afraid enough of me to think that I'd track them down back to their homeworld—"

"Is this a frequent issue?"

"More frequent than you'd expect."

That, come to think of it, could probably explain why people never stopped shooting at her no matter where she went. River had never had a hard time making enemies.

"I don't imagine it to be an issue with you," she continued, her voice back to being the honeyed, sweet illusion from before. For a brief, ridiculous instant, the Doctor wished she would opt for the glare once more instead. It was much easier to bear than the indifference that any other customer would inspire - she was used to being on the receiving end of the former much more than she'd had time to get used to the latter, after all. "You've been more than helpful so far, despite your— intriguing views about the technology of the future."

Oh, I'll show you technology of the future, just you wait. It was not a sentiment she could voice, but River must have seen it in her eyes all the same. She threw an intrigued look in her general direction and it was soon accompanied by her lips curling into the slightest of smiles; a reluctant acknowledgment of her wordless challenge.

"So," the Doctor cleared her throat in a futile attempt to cut through the tension that had settled between them. Why did it always have to end up like this? "You mentioned something that's blocking the building from any entrance from any foreign— objects?"

"Correct." River was all business again, her heels clicking on the shiny floor of the stage as she headed for the far end of it, slipping under the heavy curtain and holding it open just enough for the Doctor to pass through. Now that she was paying attention, it was easy to notice how much taller River was this time around. It was an unusual arrangement for them, but not necessarily one she minded, now that she thought of it. "We'll have to figure out what it is and remove it so your ship can land properly; that's the only thing holding it back, if I had to guess. Which might be good news for your crew, actually; if they're used to being stuck in the limbo between worlds, they'll be fine."

"They're new, but they can manage." There wasn't much that could hurt them from the Vortex, at the very least. Not that there wasn't precedent for that too, but the Doctor was doing her best to stay optimistic. It was the only refuge the situation had to offer.

"Good! We'll have more time to investigate, then." River motioned her inside, towards what the Doctor assumed was the dressing room section. "It's a good thing I set us to arrive as early as I did; that way we can revisit without running into ourselves again by the time we decide to actually come and track your ship down for good. At that point, it'll just be able to land, of course, so it wouldn't take long at all."

"I could handle that part alone, I think." It was all so delicate; so difficult to navigate without disturbing the ripples in time.

River's step faltered. The suspicious air around her was back. "Is there an issue?"

"No," the Doctor hurried to say. Too quick. "No, it's just that they're new, like I said. Not entirely used to the idea of— of Earth yet. I could ease them into such a different place slowly, you see, and do it alone so they wouldn't be as scared."

"Makes sense," River nodded. She'd pulled out a torch from somewhere that looked decidedly too advanced when compared to their surroundings. "I haven't been known to be too good at playing the welcoming role in a new world, I'll have to admit. It might be best to break it to them gently."

This time, she simply couldn't hold the remark back. It was as if River had personally invited her to make that move. From what the Doctor knew about her, that was exactly what had happened. "In all honesty, you don't look like you break anything to anyone gently, Miss Malone."

River stopped just abruptly enough in the middle of the corridor for the Doctor to almost trip and fall right into her. As it were, she managed to keep her balance, just barely. Much to her distress, this only made her wife's calculating smirk grow bigger.

"You sure like that name a lot, don't you?"

Under the dim, flickering lights above them, River looked entirely her part as a New York private detective. It brought forward a strange sense of déjà-vu that somehow still felt new; like she had experienced this exact, specific sort of excitement before, but it had been under very different circumstances. It didn't make as much sense as she had hoped that it might.

"Excuse me?"

"Miss Malone," the woman in question quipped. She was twirling something in her hands, almost too fast for the Doctor to catch on. A moment later she realised, not without a dash of terror, that it was her own screwdriver from approximately seven centuries ago.

"What of it?"

"You can't keep it out of your mouth is all." River smiled again and this time, it was all teeth and no honey. "Catchy, isn't it? Grabs the attention of stray visitors of New York who need a way out. That, plus a few other strays, but that's a story for another time."

The Doctor had rarely felt more indignant before. "Stray visitors?" She tried to put as much reprimand as she could into her voice. It wasn't too difficult. "Are you saying Melody Malone isn't your real name?"

"Do I look like someone named Melody Malone?"

"To be fair, you do, yeah."

"I do?" She wasn't sure if River was more interested or offended. Either way, it was a dangerous mix. "It's like a name from a book."

"I mean, that's just it." Hadn't they had a reason to come here? The Doctor's memory felt too burdened to handle the question just now. "That's why it fits, I think. You look like someone from a book."

This is dangerous, some distant, unfortunately ignored part of her warned, and the Doctor did her very best to push it aside. She knew, of course; had known that she was threading on thin ice ever since she'd identified her detective, but she couldn't force herself to keep quiet. She couldn't pretend that it was just about getting the TARDIS back as safely as possible, either - she'd started talking to her now, actually talking, getting to know her all over again from a light that she'd never been offered before.

Like a name from a book. And wasn't that just what they were all like, really? River and her parents and everything that had happened where they were involved - a story that no one would believe if she ever chose to tell it. And seeing her like this, quietly carrying the duty of what she likely deep down knew was to come, was almost as heartbreaking as their countless last goodbyes. Not a mystery any longer; just River, living the kind life that she'd never really got to see until now. She'd been aware before that she was never bored between their meetings, but the fact that she'd been spending her life - long by most standards and so, so short by the Doctor's - investigating every bit of every species and oddity in the Universe that she could find made it that little bit more unbelievable.

You can't do things like this, she'd scolded her more times than she could count, terrified for her life even with the knowledge of where she would end up in the end, but she'd never made sure whether River was following those instructions, had she? She had known, in theory, that she tended to do what she liked, but she'd never guessed just how dangerous-

And here it was; that old, ancient anger. The Doctor carefully directed her gaze towards her wife again, desperately trying to return to the appearance of someone politely waiting for a response.

It never really came, or at least, not in the way she had expected it to.

"You couldn't be more wrong, I'm afraid. I'm not sure anyone would ever believe any of this if I told it."

"Maybe not here and now, but—" more risks, of course, but what was one more little push in the right direction when she'd already gone so far? If she was frank, it would be quite the addition - her past self would eventually tell River about the book anyway, so she wouldn't need any more hints - but who was to say that she couldn't make a compliment or two in the meantime? This was her wife, whether she knew it or not. "I think you'd look great on the cover."

"Oh, there's no argument about that." River twirled around, her coat brushing the walls in the dramatic fashion she'd doubtlessly intended. "But someone, somewhere, would find a way to arrest me for most of the things I would write, I assure you. In fact, they already did."

The Doctor did a quick calculation. River must have definitely been out of prison at this point - she'd earned her title as a Professor at some point after that, too, so she'd had time - but Stormcage was apparently still fresh enough in her mind for her to mention it in front of others, even people she didn't know that well.

It reminded her of Krasko, suddenly, and the tattoo scarred into his arm. Not that there was any ground for comparison, really, not with the full knowledge she had of what River's supposed crimes had been, but the prison's treatment of its inmates had still left her chilled to the bone. River had mentioned what the conditions were, off-handed enough for the Doctor to not get too concerned and try to get her out of there permanently - it wouldn't do to try anything of the sort while River was imprisoned for her murder - but she'd never described anything like this.

"Would you let that stop you?"

"It's never stopped me before, but," River shrugged, "first time for everything. I'll need to be on my best behaviour for now, what with all the double- and triple-checks of everything I do."

She'd stopped in front of a door that looked so inconspicuous that it just had to hide something unthinkable for this day and age and had grabbed the sonic, pushing and twisting its settings in every direction in order to get it to do as she asked. It was a distressing sight - when had she managed to get it and how had she never noticed before? - but the Doctor came closer to watch over her shoulder anyway, fuelled by the kind of curiosity that only ever got them both in trouble.

"That should be easier than it looks right now, I take it?"

"It should be, unless someone's tinkered with it quite a bit." River leant in, pressing herself against the door as if listening for a signal from inside. "No, nothing that complicated, I think. Just a really intricate mechanism, so the sonic's taking its time."

Of course it was, if she'd misplaced it in time and space from its owner. The screwdriver had never had anything against River, but the era they'd landed it now had been a problem with anything remotely TARDIS-related ever since Manhattan. Apparently, it had started causing trouble even before that. Why had River never told her any of this? They'd had enough time together, hadn't they? She'd stepped in and done her part and then vanished off the face of the Universe, appearing only when the Doctor specifically called and he'd left her to her grief; had never wondered why she had landed here to begin with. Maybe this was as close to a second chance as she would ever get.

"So it can't be opened?" She would have offered to try and handle it on her own and try with her own sonic, but what would be the point? It was unlikely that it would suddenly manage to override the mechanism if it hadn't already.

"Everything in this century can be opened if you wait long enough," River scoffed, pulling away from the machine behind what had been disguised as yet another dressing room. "It's primitive. Something this sophisticated doesn't belong here, though, and if someone's installed it, they need to have the means. Not a good sign when you're looking for a lost spaceship – or when people keep disappearing at certain spots in the entire city." She turned to her now, her expression as close to apologetic as it ever got. "I'm sorry, Miss Smith, but this might take a while. Not just the door, but whatever – and whoever – is behind it too. My cases often turn out to be more than what meets the eye, I'm afraid."

"It's all right," the Doctor assured her. She'd followed her example and sat down on the floor next to her, one hand reaching out to rest over River's for reassurance that she'd never asked for but had, historically, had needed on occasion. "I expected something like this, to tell you the truth. I keep—ending up in these sort of places recently, I don't know why."

Okay, so the sudden touches might have been a miscalculation on her part. River was eyeing her hand with something between a pleasant surprise and the need to dissect it before managed to get any closer. She was just so used to this; the comfort of her presence and yes, even the physical contact that she'd been so hesitant with back in their early days. It had been for their mutual benefit back then and this reminded her of why exactly she'd made that decision – her wife wasn't big on unexpected invasion of her personal space unless she'd explicitly welcomed it. It made sense with the life she led and the childhood she'd had, but she'd flinched away from the Doctor's touch just enough times for her to know better.

It had made them both feel rather helpless back then – River because she hated being vulnerable in front of anyone at all, up to and including the only person in her life that she trusted, and the Doctor because he'd never been too good at letting her know that it didn't matter; that they didn't have to talk about it if she didn't want to but that he was there if she did want to discuss it. Either way, she never had, preferring instead to dedicate her time to prying the Doctor's secrets out of him one by one. He'd given her everything she'd asked for and the burden of all his history had started gradually getting lighter, finally shared with someone who could understand at least partially.

Now, it seemed, River was willing to do it all over again, although how much of it was genuine concern and how much was scientific fascination was impossible to determine. "You get stranded away from your ship often?"

"Just recently," the Doctor said, suddenly defensive. "It's like there's something— off. We keep getting separated and pulled in different directions all the time and I just don't understand it."

River's mood had turned thoughtful. "So you don't think it's a coincidence?"

"Not exactly, but it doesn't feel like outside interference either." If there was a way to turn this conversation, more dangerous by the word, in a different direction, now was probably the time. "If I didn't know better, I'd say the ship has made its mind about what it wants and where I need to go, but that's ridiculous, of course."

"You'd be surprised." River was smiling now; a small, enticing twist of her lips that promised the reveal of a thousand secrets hidden behind it. No wonder she got in trouble quite so often; who would be able to resist this? "I've seen stranger things out there in the Universe. Sentient ships aren't quite as ridiculous as you might think – or as inconvenient as they could be, come to think of it."

The smile had morphed into something that the Doctor had been on the receiving end of far too many times and she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. So this was what River was doing behind her back; picking up strangers with thinly veiled promises of a TARDIS somewhere out there? And, okay, perhaps it was a little unfair to blame her for such a thing when she'd done it so often herself, but their definitions of 'pick up' were really rather different and— the Doctor took a deep breath. It wasn't the time or the place, she reminded herself. It was turning into something like a mantra and it felt similarly meaningless after she'd repeated it enough times.

"And if there's so much out there, why would you stay here?" It had bothered her for a while now and it was a good change of topic as any. "You said it yourself – they're primitive; primitive enough that your technology can barely pick up on anything here. So why bother? You can leave if you want to, can't you?"

"Of course I can." To an untrained ear, it might have sounded as if she found the statement hilariously obvious, but the Doctor could easily feel the coiled, ecstatic joy that lay beneath. She'd nearly always had the means to get in and out of Stormcage whenever she pleased, but it was different to actually be free; it had to be. "I'm leading an investigation here, actually; it's been quite useful so far. There's this— specimen I'm trying to track down. Difficult to pin down and very difficult to dispose of, but if I don't do it, who will?" River turned to her, the sardonic humour in her eyes somehow gaining an even sharper edge. "No one else could land here even if they tried. It takes a gentler touch than time travellers usually have." She leant in conspiratorially. "Something's wrong with time. The creature I'm talking about made it that way, if I had to guess."

Her hearts were beating fast enough for the Doctor to be able to feel her pulse in her ears; a painful, heavy rhythm that carried a grief old enough to outlast civilisations. Run, she wanted to say, take my hand and run and never, ever look back. We've done this before; we could do it again. What use would she be as a time traveller if she couldn't rewrite some of it every now and again? She could get her out of here and never make her write the book that the Doctor would later find in his jacket and they would never land in New York at this time to begin with. She could see the options stretching into infinity in front of her, settling into new shapes, forming new lines, pushing new lives into existence and erasing timelines that wouldn't find their place anymore; could see the twists and turns of the years that would follow, all the changes that had never been. It would necessarily destroy anything, just change it. It would only be fair, really, after everything they'd been through.

The Universe had never been particularly good at being fair.

"Is that so," the Doctor said, voice raspier than she'd expected it to be and not quite the question she'd been aiming for. "What exactly is it?"

"I have a few guesses, but it's nothing intense enough to call the authorities over yet. Well, when I say authorities—" River glanced at her Vortex Manipulator again. It was something of a reflex, the Doctor had noticed, and one she could understand all too well. It still made her stand on edge; thinking of who exactly River could call if she wanted, even if she knew that she wouldn't – she hadn't. "But never mind that. We're not in a tight enough spot for this yet. It's all been all over the place recently, so I thought I'd check it out; set up a place for myself here in case it all blows up in my face. It hasn't so far, but it never hurts to have something to fall back on."

"And you've been here for how long?" It was just curiosity. The Doctor wasn't sure why she was trying to convince herself of something she already knew to be an excuse, but she could at least try. River had never been particularly surprised when people were interested in her, given how much there was to be interested in.

Now was no exception. "Oh, a month or two. I try to help out in the meantime; might as well make myself useful for the locals. And if it helps me with my own case—" A casual, immodest shrug, as if to motion, What can I say? "You'd be surprised how much of the unexplainable about this city goes back to the same source once you put your mind to connecting it all. It's probably what happened with you as well, one way or another; there are countless of ways it could work. It's terrifying, but also rather impressive, I think, how big this actually is. Gives me plenty to work with."

"And what is this, exactly?"

"You're alone in all of time and space because your ship vanished into thin air." Her wife's overexcited smile, the one she always tended to wear in times of immediate, unbearable danger, had turned gentler now. "No need to scare you with the stuff of nightmares yet, is there?"

"I'm not alone." She wasn't supposed to be saying any of this, wasn't supposed to fall into the trap of familiarity that would never – could never – be returned, but, "There's you."

River's eyes widened, the muted lights making them seem almost glassy with surprise. She'd pulled her hand away, touched in that way that always made her tentative about disappointing people in the long run. It was just about the only predictable thing about her. The Doctor had rarely hated it more. "There's only me."

You don't even know me, she'd meant to say, but it could be safely ignored for now. "Nothing only about it, Miss Malone."

Behind them, the locks in the door kept turning.