Chapter 3

Fantasia

"The mind is its own place, and in itself

Can make a heav'n of hell, a hell of heav'n"

- John Milton, Paradise Lost

XXX

Deep in the forests of Fantasia there was a sound, a sound that was altogether unusual and remarkable. Amid the trickle of the water running through the forest floor and the caw of the spinet birds, there was a mechanical whoosh that announced the arrival of the newcomers—the visitors—to no one that was interested in particular. In a small clearing between the tall trees, where the sun's bright orange rays trickled down to the yellowed ground, a blue box faded into view. Once, twice, three times before becoming fully solid. As if to announce its arrival, a spinet bird fluttered out of a nearby tree, shooting brilliant black streaks across the sky.

The door to the mysterious blue box opened, and out popped a curly head. River took a moment to examine their surroundings, noting the cloudless sky, the tall trees, the sound of water that told her they weren't too far from the creek.

"And you're sure you got it right this time? Absolutely positive?" she called back into the TARDIS. She didn't wait for the response before she slipped out the door, shielding her eyes against the sun in order to see all the way up to the tree tops. They were dotted with black and blue leaves that fluttered in the tropical wind.

"Positive Song, I swear." The muffled response drifted through the cracked door.

River grumbled, "That's what you said the last time."

"What's that?" The Doctor asked, suddenly right behind her as he leaned out of the TARDIS glancing at the forest over her shoulder.

"Nothing, Sweetie." She shrugged nonchalantly and batted her eyes at him, pleased to see the faint red tinge on his cheeks as he slipped out of the TARDIS and pulled the door shut behind him.

"I don't trust you, Song."

"Of course, you don't, love. Wouldn't be fun if you did." She angled her head in order to see him over her shoulder and he was aware of her back pressing lightly into him. "Bit of a thrill seeker aren't you, Doctor." Her voice lowered to an unholy pitched that made the Doctor's insides jumped and he flushed as he remembered all the other times he'd heard that voice.

"Don't you know it, my bad girl." He chuckled darkly into her ear, his breath stirring the curls that had pulled from her bun. Suddenly, he cared less about seeing Fantasia than he had ten minutes before, even more so now that River had tilted her head away from him and expose a long thin strip of milky white skin. The Doctor inhaled deeply, eyes closing at her familiar smell, the crackle of time mixed with books and dust with a hint, a barely faint hint of daisies.

"So, Quimbly brought his expedition to Fantasia." And just like that River was gone, having taken several steps away from him before turning to him, arms opened. "What's next?" The Doctor's lips pursed and he pressed a hand to the back of his neck. River's eyes widened, sparkling with humor as she considered him. "You don't know, do you?"

"River—"

"Oh my god, you have no idea! Aren't you supposed to have all the plans? You are the Doctor after all. Or do you just make bits up as you go along and take credit for them if it happens to work out?"

"Oi! I have a plan." The Doctor declared, preening at his bowtie. "It might still be a plan in the making but a plan nonetheless." He felt a secret chill run up his spine at the way River cross her arms, popping her hip to one side as she stood waiting to be impressed.

"Go on, then."

The Doctor gleefully shoved his hands in his pocket and turned away from her, ambling toward the thick of the forest to his right. He flicked his sonic from his jacket pocket, tossing it in the air before igniting the end with a flourish of his wrist. "Patience is a virtue, Song." He called over his shoulder, analyzing the readings as he did so.

"Oh, look who's talking!"

He turned, brandishing his sonic at her in mock warning, prepared with a quick retort on the tip of his lips.

Then the ground disappeared.

His feet flew up in the air, and his stomach dropped down, the way it always did when gravity pulled down and there is nothing to hold him up. He knew that feeling. Very well. Somewhere in the background, he heard River call his name and felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. He rolled over to his front and bounced again. Dirt was in his mouth and twigs snapped under him. His fingers loosened around his sonic and it disappeared as he lost sense of what was up or down, left or right until finally he came to a stop.

"Doctor? Doctor!" River called, half running, half sliding down the hill which the Doctor had just taken backwards. He grunted, sprawled out on his back with eyes screwed tight against the bright sky. "Doctor?" he heard her voice again, softer this time and a shadow darkened over his eyelids. He blinked slowly and was greeted with River's concerned face hovering over his. Stray curls frizzed and frayed from her updo, backlit by the Fantasian sun and glistening a fiery red at the edges. Her face relaxed when she saw the tense smile he offered. "Are you alright, darling?"

He coughed, a puff of yellow dust huffing between them. Ick, he scraped his teeth across his tongue, trying to no avail to get the dryness out of his mouth. "Gravity. Stronger here than Earth." He spat.

"Well that's nice to know." She hummed, helping him sit up and pulling the twigs and leaves from his hair. Gentle hands smoothed down his back, brushing the dirt from his jacket as the Doctor saw to the front of his trousers, rubbing at his knees and chest.

Suddenly, there was a soft chattering and River's hands stalled against his back. "What's that?"

"What's what?" The Doctor lifted his watch to his ear to make sure it was still ticking away.

It happened again. "That." River's head tilted gently, eyes narrowing on a large tree directly behind the Doctor. It had a thick trunk with raised roots that curled up before burrowing into the soil. The Doctor paused as well, fingers wrapped around his bowtie, as he struggled to turn himself around.

"Sounds like the tree's talking." He shrugged, righting himself and finishing with his bowtie, "They do that sometimes, you know." River rolled her eyes. Pressing a hand against his shoulder, she lifted herself to her feet and retrieved his sonic from under a fallen log.

She lowered herself onto her hands and knees in front of the tree, pressing the side of her face into the ground as she peered underneath the large roots and positioned the sonic so that it could illuminate the darkness. "It sounds like it's coming from…" River no sooner had activated the sonic before a furry creature jutted out from under the roots, chattering and clicking as it plowed into River's face, rolling her over onto her back. In a haze of confusion, River batted the foreign creature away from her, but it pulled closer, fingers curling around the ends of her hair, arms wrapping around her neck, legs sliding around her chest. Then, River stopped, looking up into a tiny black face surrounded by a puff of grey hair. It blinked.

"It's a mypoon!" The Doctor exclaimed, scooting himself over to them as River sat up.

"A what?" River tried to gently unwrap its arms from around her body, but every time she got one arm free another tightened its grasp. My Lord, how many arms did it have?

"A mypoon, a baby mypoon from the look of it." He grabbed his sonic, and slowly, as not to scare the poor creature that was already shivering and shaking in River's arms, ran a basic life form assessment. The mypoon was short and squat and covered in thick frizzy fur that puffed out far from its body, making him look more round than square. It had four double jointed arms and two legs, which it had heretofore used to wrap itself around River's body, and a squashed little face with a wrinkled nose and wide blue eyes and a wild tail that fluttered about anxiously.

"That' doesn't exactly answer my question."

"Mypoon is a native of Fantasia, mammal, single bred, have a lifespan of approximately twenty years and incredibly, incredibly clever." He flipped the sonic shut and replaced it in his pocket. "I've never actually met a mypoon before." And then the Doctor leaned around River's shoulder so that he could see the creature's face which was currently buried in the crook of her neck, "how do you do?"

River rolled her eyes, "Doctor—"

"Shhh," he hushed her, eyes flicking up to her before returning it to the animal. "I speak mypoon."

"Oh you do not!"

"I most certainly do! I speak everything." He reached out and ruffled the fur on top of the little animal's head. It chattered and clicked at him. "This guy here lost his mum."

"And what does he want with me?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Maybe you look like a suitable replacement."

"Oh and I suppose I look like a mypoon, then do I?"

The Doctor plucked at a stray curl, "Well you hair kinda…" River swatted at him.

"Help me get him off." She asked, trying once more to untangle the animal from her torso but was distracted as the little creature reach up and stuck its face into River's, touching their noses and chattering at her before tucking its face once more into the crook of her neck.

The Doctor's voice softened after that, watching as the creature sighed deeply, its furry little body melting in his wife's arms. "I think you've found a kindred spirit, River." He smiled up at her, taking her hand in his and running them along the little animal's back, burying her fingers in the thick fur until she was petting him of her own accord.

The Doctor stood, looking around them. He took two paces to the left, turned around and walked back. River, still sitting on the ground and carefully petting the mypoon, watched as he circled her three times before sticking his finger in his mouth and holding a thumb into the air, finally declaring, "North." He took a few steps and then turned back to her expectantly. "Coming?"

"Wait. Are we bringing him with us?"

"Of course, got get him back to mum don't we?" He turned and disappeared between two trees, leaving River to clamor behind.

She tromped on branches and leaves, batting vegetation out of the way in an effort to catch up with him, "But, Doctor. Doctor" before finally falling into stride alongside him. The mypoon took the opportunity to unwrap itself from River's neck and crawl up her body where it resettled itself on her shoulder. One had wrapped around her head, fingers tucked into her curls for balance. "What if we can't…" She threw a wary look at the creature riding perfectly content on her shoulder. "It's a bit like looking for a needle in a haystack, isn't it?"

He shrugged, "I've got a plan."

"Really? Is it anything like that last one? The one where you ended up bouncing backwards down a hill?" He turned and gave her gappy grin that told her it was exactly like the last plan, and kindly instructed her to hush now and respect the plan.

"Geez, River you are hard work, young."

She grumbled at that, crossing her arms over her chest, but he loved it. He liked her like this, young and carefree, with a bit of a sharp tongue and all the early characteristics of his River. It felt normal, as if nothing were wrong. It was as if the shadows didn't exist for her, like he never caught her staring uneasily into an empty room or muttering bits of nonsense to herself. It was as if she knew all about them. Area 52. Their wedding. That she loved him and he her, dare he even think it. She was River (albeit young, but young River could be fun too so he learned) and he was the Doctor and they were off on another adventure.

The Doctor's eyes narrowed on a tree ahead of them, the first where branches weren't obstructing their path. They were broken. Flicking open the end of his sonic, the Doctor pointed it at the tree and flipped it up for the reading. "See that?" He asked, holding the sonic out for River. She nodded, eyes cutting to him curiously. "Humans." She smiled softly at that, recognition flashing in her eyes. They'd found Quimbly. Perhaps his fantasy wasn't too far from being reality.

They followed the traces of Quimbly's expedition to a creek, cutting clear across the forest floor and trickling with sparkling water. River dropped onto a nearby rock, perspiration glinting across her face and chest. It was humid here, much more so than she had let on. "Honestly, I don't know how you're still wearing that thing." She huffed, eyeing the tweed still situated comfortably on his shoulders. The Doctor was crouched down next to her, hands sweeping over the ground, plucking at a few rocks and palming them as he searched the trees overhead.

"Time Lord Biology. My body temperature acclimates to different climates. I'm rarely uncomfortable with wild weather changes. "He jostled the rocks in the palm of his hand as he found his target. Aiming carefully he launched a rock in its direction, a small brown orb nestled high in the tree, a gyra fruit. The rock hit it with a hollow thud and plummeted to the ground. He repeated the action again, and still a third time before gyra broke free, tumbling to the ground with a rush of branches and leaves. It landed with a soft thump, and the mypoon scurried off River's shoulder and hovered over it, head tilting back and forth as it circled the catch. Eventually it shrugged, scooped it up, cradling it in three of its hands as it scurried back to River and dropped the fruit in her lap.

"Thank you," she ascended, forgetting, no doubt, that in all likelihood it couldn't understand a thing she said, but it chattered at her nonetheless and scurried off to follow a juicy centipede that was crawling a few feet away from them. River watched him go, "Do you think we can actually find his mum?" She asked in hush tone just in case it could understand her. The Doctor, who had lifted the gyra from her lap and was set on sonicing it open paused, mutely watching the mypoon for a moment before returning to his task. "Only," River continued, "we've been in this forest for how many hours now and we haven't seen another one like him. That's strange isn't it? That his mother would go so far and not return?"

"I doubt she left on her own volition. And I don't think it's a coincidence that finding our little friend there corresponded with Quimbly's expedition route."

"You think they took her?"

"It's their MO, isn't it? Humans? Find a new world, a new planet full of beauty and treasures. They obviously can't just observe the beauty. They feel an intense need to collect, to own and so they take pieces, more and more pieces with each visit until the beauty is but a memory. A stuffed carcass in a museum on Platar 5." He paused for a moment, the high pitched buzzing of the sonic filling the silence between them, "Seventy-five years from now mypoons will be an endangered species. In eighty they will be all but extinct with the exception of a small colony living on an island south of the Gamma region."

River fell silent after that, resting her chin on a fist, elbow balanced atop her knees as she watched the little creature play with the unwilling centipede. It had rolled over onto its back and was throwing the slimy worm into the air, catching it with its tail.

Beside her the little brown sphere finally snapped apart in the Doctor's hands and he held half out to her. Inside there were hundreds, no thousands of little blue and red balls, like berries, but transparent and filled with colorful juice. River palmed a few, popping them into her mouth as she thought. The Doctor did the same.

"Do you really think they'll still have my diary?" She asked, plucking at a few more berries. The Doctor dropped the emptying shell into her lap for better access, digging a few out himself before situating himself more comfortably on the ground, leaning against the rock River sat on.

"Don't see why not. It's on loan from one of the most prestigious universities in the galaxy. His reputation depends on its safe return. Besides, if your map is their only hope of finding the caves—"

"Well, it wasn't finished yet,"

"—one more reason it'll be easier to find them then. It'd be impossible to find the Caves without the finished source since I highly doubt any of them speak enough Gamma to finish the translation. Besides, it's quite convenient actually. It would have been much more difficult trying to steal the diary out of Luna's archives. Difficult, mind you, but not impossible."

"I don't exactly think that it's stealing if the diary never stopped being mine in the first place." The Doctor leaned his head back against the rock, squinting at her through the bright sunlight. River sighed, "It'll be nice to have a past again." He gently reached out and hooked his fingers around her hand, pulling it from her lap to press a soft kiss to the healing skin. The physical traces of Silencio were slowly fading. Bruises were lightening and sore muscles were relaxing. The burns from her suit had lost most of their scabs and existed now as an irritated pink with puckered skin. She'd taken off the bandages several days ago. But here on her hand which bore the brunt force of the weapons discharge, the Doctor was almost certain there would be scarring and he wondered how he'd never noticed it before.

When he glanced back up at her, she was gone. Physically still present beside him, he still held her hand after all, but her gaze was focused somewhere on the distant shore. She sat watching, unblinking. The Doctor shifted slowly, ignoring the cold fear in his chest that wanted to grab her and shake her free of whatever held her. It wasn't the first time she'd faded as such, but each time he grew a little more afraid he wouldn't be able to pull her back.

"River," he shifted so he could sing into her ear, doing a successful job of adding a note of teasing to his voice. "Where are you?" She took a sharp intake of breath, eyes darting to him and body easing as she smiled and forced a soft laugh.

"I'm here." She squeezed his hand. But uncertainty filled her eyes, a fear that matched the one that settled hard in his chest.

Suddenly a sharp chattering echoed through the forest and the both looked to their little friend who was staring back at them, lifted on its hind legs, ears pricked. The chattering called again and mypoon turned and scampered into the forest, leaving River and the Doctor in a race to catch up.

They chased the mypoon down the creek bed, watching as it crawled its way up a nearby tree, across a limb, and down a large metal cage that dangled from the branch. It dropped down the bars before sticking its head between them. The chattering multiplied.

"Well, that was easy," River said, cupping her hands over her eyes and glancing up into the trees. The Doctor moved over to where the cage had been secured against the tree trunk and untied the rope, gently lowering the cage to the ground. At that point the baby mypoon climbed off, glancing at River expectantly as she bent and unlatched the front. Out scurried a larger, fluffier, mypoon which promptly waddled up to the smaller one, sniffing it gently before settling in to grooming its fur with long licks.

River watched the reunion with a gentle smile tugged softly across her lips, but the Doctor, infinitely more interested in the cage, had squatted down to examine the mechanics. A poacher's cage. Manmade, fifty- third century. He wiped his hands absent-mindedly down the sides of his trousers as he thought. Quimbly wouldn't have travelled far from his catch, but in which direction? Slowly, he stood. Sending a quick glance to the baby mypoon which was now squirming under its mother's ministrations, he pressed further upstream.

He made it about two hundred yards before stopping coming to an abrupt halt. "Doctor? What's the matter?" He turned to find River making her way to him, slipping around a long limb filled with purple leaves. Wordlessly, he turned back, waiting for her to catch up, to feel her press gently against his back, one hand stilled on his arm as she peered over his shoulder. "Oh my god," she breathed.

Stretching before them about a kilometer wide was the remnants of a landslide that had destroyed everything in its path. Trees were stripped and bare, tossed up like toothpicks sticking out of the muddy landscape at all angles. Debris from the mud's rapid descent down the mountain littered the soft grounde. Overhead, the sun beat down, unobstructed by the forest canopy. It was recent, but not fresh, perhaps a week old. He squinted. At the edge of the debris field, he could just barely make out the red and yellow of a tent, half collapsed and buried under mud.

Quimbly's camp.

The Doctor waded to the tent, mud seeping into his shoes and weighing down his trouser legs as he looked for an entrance. It was buried and he had to sonic a hole in the fabric to get inside, half dreading what he would find as he ripped the canvas open and began pulling out everything within reach.

"Do you think they were here at the time?" River called to him, swaying into the center of the debris field. The Doctor glanced from where he was raking through a camp bag full of food. River stood watching him over her shoulder. From here the sun caught the gold of her hair, making it seem nearly to glow as the wind stirred curls across her cheek. Mud smeared over her thin blouse and down the back of her jodhpurs where she'd wiped her palms. For a moment she looked like his River. Vibrant and alive in the midst of a dig.

"I hope not," he called back, shaking the last items out of the bag. No diary. He reached back into the tent—hoping that perhaps Quimbly was still out there, trekking to the caves with the diary safely tucked away in a sack—toiletries and a pair of boots emerged. Deep down, though, the Doctor knew this was it. The reason why he'd never heard of Quimbly's expedition, read of his discovery of the Caves. Quimbly never returned from Fantasia.

In the distance, River had squatted down where she had freed a pack from the mud, and was shuffling through the contents. She huffed when she didn't find anything, straightening to ease the tension in her back when her eye caught a flash of blue jutting out of the ground. She tipped herself forward, stretching on hands and knees far enough to snag it with the tips of her fingers. She uncovered an arm, pale and lifeless, jutting out from the muddy depths where its body likely remained intact. It was broken, bent backwards midways between the wrist and elbow and splattered with blue and purple. She let out a strangled cry as she fell backward in the mud, a pool of brown liquid spreading across her lap. Behind her, the Doctor's head snapped up.

"River?"

River struggled to right herself, unable to gain traction in the slippery goo, and with each failed attempt her breath hitched a little quicker. "Help me," she gasped, finally pulling herself back to the arm, fingers frantically clawing at the mud. "Help me!" She shot a look over her shoulder, her face and hair splattered with brown, eyes wide and panicked.

The mire slowed him down. He had to lift his knees and keep his feet moving to keep himself from getting stuck down in the muck. All around him bits of tent and sleeping bags, rods, jutted from the mud. He dropped to his knees behind her, peering over her shoulder. A soft huff rushing from his lungs when he saw what she was after.

"River…" he spoke in a hushed tone that only made her hands move faster.

"Help me get him out."

"River… River, he's dead," Damn if his voice didn't shake. The Doctor draped loose arms around her. "There isn't anything we can do."

"No!…there is always something… something more, a… a choice." Her fingers clawed faster at the mud and the Doctor's arms tightened around her and she squirmed against him. "Let me go!"

"River…"

"We have to help him." He stood, struggling to pull her along, but she fought back, her arms and legs flailing as she struggled out of his grasp. "No, we can't just leave him here. We can't abandon him." Tears spilled down her cheeks, mixing with mud as he pulled her from the debris field to the tree line. Her flailing finally overcame him and he fell backward, landing hard on a tree root, she fell out of grasp curling in on herself and burying head in her arms, her body rigid and shaking in an effort to draw air that wouldn't come.

The Doctor, who had never been good at this sort of thing, honestly who tried to avoid any sort of human emotion whenever he had the opportunity, sat frozen in place as River Song, savior of galaxies came unraveled next to him. His hearts stilled for a brief moment as he heard her panicked gasping and pressed a hand into her back just in time to feel the shuddering breath that filled her lungs. Then, a grief-stricken sob echoed through the forest, filled with anguish that sounded almost inhuman in its agony. The Doctor's blood ran cold in his veins at the sound, tears springing to his own eyes because he didn't know. He didn't know what had happened or what she'd seen, couldn't figure out what was going on in her mind because death was death and Melody Pond had been well acquainted with it. She wrapped her own arms, speckled with mud, bruises, and burns around her head and she sobbed, deep wrenching sounds that betrayed something deep inside that she'd never shown him before.

The TARDIS was so much better at things like this. But ever so slowly, he relaxed into his responsibility, his arms wrapping around her, lifting her just enough so that he could wrap himself around her and her hands moved from her head to his jacket, curling into his lapel as she pressed her face into his chest. He hummed to her, soothing sounds and thoughtless words and only after several minutes realized it was a Gallifreyan lullaby, one of the few he remembered. Her breathing slowed into spontaneous hiccups and the Doctor could hear the soft scrape of her eyelashes against tweed as her eyes fluttered open. But he would not be the first move. He would not let go, not until she asked. Her body sagged into his.

"They left me" she whispered with a thick, tearful voice. Only then did he realize that her eyes were wide and alert, quietly watching something along the far tree line from where her head rested against his shoulder. He glanced up. There was nothing there, at least not to him. "They left me to drown at the bottom of the lake."

His eyes glanced back at the landslide, mentally calculating how many men must be buried in the mud—at least 8 judging by the rations he'd pulled out from the tent—and knowing that there was no way he could dig them all out himself. It would be a challenge with a fully healthy River, but they could have done it. Not now, not with her like this.

He carried her back along the creek bed, far away from Quimbly and the mud, back to where they had sat and snacked barely twenty minutes earlier. The Doctor sat her on a dried pile of leaves while he fetched the gyra shells and used it to collect water from the creek. When he returned to her, River's eyes were focused intently on the glistening stream, the trails of water that ran over rocks and roots and mud, her tear streaked face blank.

"They'll come back for me when they realize that you're not dead." She whispered hoarsely, eyes rising to his, wide and frightened as he knelt next to her and wrapped his free arm around her shoulders.

"They won't know. Just mine and your secret, yea?" He hushed, offering her a sip of water which she accepted. Her hand wrapped tightly around his wrist as she drank greedily from the vessel he tipped against her lips. It was as if she expected him to keep her rooted to some sort of reality, the one where she was safe and he was there. Where there was water to drink and air to breathe. And when she had drank her fill she sat back, swiping a shaky hand across her mouth.

"They always know. They have eyes and ears everywhere and they'll come. I think they might have already."

The Doctor felt his shoulders sag at her words, and pulled her closer against him. Her head tucked perfectly under his chin, remnants of stray frizzy curls tickling across his lips. "How many do you see?"

Her voice was small and feeble. "Sixteen."

"They're not really there. It's all an illusion."

He felt a soft puff of air skim around his neck. Her head turned further into his chest. "Please don't let them take me again."

The Doctor sighed, fingers curling into her hair as he felt their hearts synch to one another's pace. "I won't," he promised. He prayed it was a promise he had always kept.

XXX

He carried her back to the TARDIS, and her face was pressed against his neck the entire way, eyes screwed tightly shut against the visions or memories, or both. She alternated between exhaustion and anxiety, shaking in his arms but refusing to let him let go of her long enough to slide off his jacket for her.

The TARDIS welcomed them with open doors and a soft buzz and a bedroom that has been rerouted to just off the side of the console room. On the bed lay a tray with warm water and clean towels and the Doctor did what he could to get her clean, stripping her out of her muddy clothing and leaving them in a pile off the edge of the bed. He wrapped her in clean nightclothes. She sank back against a pile of pillows, burrowing herself under the covers as the Doctor rummaged through the nightstand drawer, shuffling through the contents until he found a little glass vile filled with small purple tablets.

"What's that?" She asked softly, examining the little tablet he'd shaken into his palm.

"Nymeric. It'll help you sleep."

Hopeful eyes lifted to his. "Without dreams?"

"Without dreams."

She didn't hesitate then, placing the pill on the tip of her tongue and accepting the water he handed her. She settled back against the pillows, watching as she bent to gather the soiled linens. "Doctor?"

"Hm?"

"What if we don't find my diary? What happens then?"

He glanced up at her from where he'd just deposited everything into the laundry unit, shutting the door and latching it as he did so. "We'll find it," He said, turning back to the unit and tugging the door open again. He pulled out a pile of warm, freshly washed clothing and pilled them in the seat of a nearby chair.

"But what happens if we don't? Do I go through life with only half my memories, then?"

"There's no guarantee that you'd remember anything even if you did get your diary back."

She fell silent then, head dropping back against the pillows, but she wasn't asleep. Not yet, and the Doctor silently busied himself around the room, putting away the freshly pressed clothes, uneasy about leaving her alone before she'd drifted off. Then she unexpectedly broke the silence.

"I thought they were going to kill me. After I had completed my mission, I mean. The suit took me back into Silencio and I waited there for… for hours, in the cold and damp. There wasn't any air. It burned to breath and no matter how I tried I couldn't get air. And I just… I knew they weren't coming back… I waited to suffocate" She blinked, and a tear dropped from her lashes, rolling down her cheek. "I remember them, every hour. As though they just happened." Her hands clutched the edge of the sheet, fingers paling under the pressure of her grip. She sighed, eyes fluttering open and meeting his from across the room. "I've lived a half lived life, Doctor , full of barely remembered events. I've woken with bruises and broken bones and have been unable to recall weeks at a time. Things lurked in the shadows and those things would talk and make me do things without ever understanding why. I always thought it was a blessing that I couldn't remember, but this is different. This is big." She gave a soft shake of her head, lips curling into a sad smile. "There's never been anything worth remembering before."

The Doctor stood fidgeting in the center of the room, an old jumper clutched in his hand. She was right. It was a big important piece she was missing. She was missing half of her identity. River Song, the woman who killed the Doctor. Oh, she remembered that, but what about the time she married the Doctor? Despite what he'd told her in Area 52 he'd known he would marry River Song, had known long before he admitted it. And he'd wanted it. He'd wanted that moment more than he had wanted anything for a long time. And she remembered none of it.

He chewed on the inside of his lip before finally venturing a look at her. She was still watching him, eyes a mix between hope and fear. He crossed to the dresser, pulling out the top drawer as he spoke. "River, my death was a fixed point. I died at Silencio because I always die there and you have to be the one to shoot me."

"Why?"

"Because you always do."

"And if I refuse?" He paused at that, hands pressing into the jumper he'd just laid inside, smiling at the note of defiance in her voice that reminded him that his River was just below the surface, he only had to dig her out.

"Oh River," he hummed, lifting the drawer and pushing it shut. "Beautiful, clever, stubborn River. You did refuse." And you are paying the price for it now.

He debated how much to tell her, how much was safe. Inserting fresh memories where she had none would prove disastrous should she remember on her own. He turned back toward the chair, but she was quick, reaching out and snagging the edge of his tweed as he walked by. "You remember what really happened, don't you?" She whispered, chin trembling slightly. "Show me."

He shook his head. "River I can't."

"Please. I want to see. I want to remember." She tugged on his jacket and he reluctantly moved closer.

"River…"

"Please Doctor. You can fix this. You can make it all come back." Her hands curled around his, pulling them to her temples and he could feel her mind opening to him, urging him on and he almost tumbled in as images of them, hands bound to one another swam to the front of his mind. Because he wanted her to know. Wanted her to look at him and think "husband," and remember the pyramid and the promise he'd made her, but this was a dangerous game she was playing. She could wind up not remembering anything. Or worse, remembering everything all the time and risk madness because she would never know what memory was hers and what was given to her. And that was worse, she had no idea how much worse. That was the problem wasn't it? That she had no idea. She didn't know then and she didn't know now. She'd damn near destroy the universe on a selfish, bloody whim, and she was willing to destroy herself all over again for what? A memory. A simple memory. This wasn't child's play. She could just take whatever she desired in the moment, "because there are serious consequences to your actions, River, and you need to learn to trust me. You need to know that no, means no!"

His voice echoed through the bedroom and only then did he realize that he was actually speaking, had said everything he was thinking. And there was River, eyes wide, wrist caught tightly in his, too tightly. He loosened his grip. Her face was blank, unreadable as she pulled her wrist from his hand, turning herself over onto her side to face away from him. His shoulders fell. "River…" he ventured, pressing a hand into her shoulder which tensed under his touch. "What you are asking me to do is very dangerous. You mustn't ask it of me again."

"Don't worry." She murmured, "I won't," her voice shaking as she pressed her face into the pillow.

He winced at the resignation in her voice. "River…" She curled into a tighter ball.

"I think it's time for me to sleep now, Doctor."

He stood there for another several moments, watching her frame and the tense way her shoulders rose and fell with each breath before finally giving in. The TARDIS lights dimmed around him as he slipped through the door pulling it softly shut behind him.