The verdict took less than five minutes.

River's guilt regarding the crime was obvious to one and all; but most of the jury couldn't bring themselves to commit her. Even the judge, standing in the name of the Shadow Proclamation only gazed impassively at River before she sighed.

"We find that in this case," she announced to the packed courtroom, "our judgement is for leniency. Imprisonment, not execution. River Song will serve twelve thousand consecutive life sentences; and there will be opportunities given for pardon. Thank you to our jury, for their difficult decision. You may go."

He hadn't expected it to go any other way, but the Doctor grinned proudly, tucking his hands into his pockets. Without a plan, without her testimony; yet he'd managed it after all. Timelines preserved. Most important: his wife saved. He glanced up at River, expecting to see her smiling at him.

But even from across the room he could read her expression. Confusion and surprise... a hint of grief. Her eyes seemed angry, almost accusing as they locked on his; and it hurt. He didn't know what he'd expected. But it suddenly felt like he'd accomplished nothing here, after all.

Two thousand years old; and he suddenly felt every single year of it. His shoulders hunched; his eyes dropped from her gaze. He didn't want to talk to her. He didn't want to talk to anyone… the Doctor strode toward the door, ignoring the calls from the media asking for his opinion, the friendly faces of the jurors.

And yet, he couldn't help stopping just outside the visitation room, listening to Jack and the Ponds inside; and the Doctor hesitated for longer than he would ever admit to, if asked. He could walk away, knowing Jack would understand why he didn't want to see them. He knew Jack would even bring them back home, without being asked.

But he wanted this. To see them one more time. Two minutes at most; he doubted he'd see his Ponds again after this.

His body decided before his mind caught up. The Doctor pushed the door open and found his arms suddenly full of Amy Pond and no way to tell her he didn't hug anymore.

"That was a good speech," she mumbled into his collar. He awkwardly patted her shoulder.

"It worked," he answered gruffly.

"Didn't you know it would?" Rory asked. "You knew how her trial had to go." There was no grief or censure in his voice, only a faint air of resignation that still made the Doctor shrug uncomfortably.

"I couldn't change things," he admitted. "Even if I wanted. There were timelines to preserve. You know-"

"We know," Amy said quickly. "We hoped maybe… but no. Anyway, we knew that she'll be pardoned eventually."

"And we'll see her," added Rory. "All the time."

"That's what you get for having a daughter who's an escape artist," said the Doctor.

Rory grinned, looking both sheepish and proud. "Not many people get to say: my daughter is an escape artist, who can get out of her maximum security prison in the Fifty-first century to go on dates with her dead husband any time she likes. Yeah…it's cool. We can live with that."

Despite how he felt, the Doctor managed a brief smile. "Tell her that, when she's younger," he said. "So that she'll remember, in the days you're too young to say it."

Rory nodded, but Amy stepped back, scrutinising the Doctor's face.

"And you?" she asked. "Jack said that the guards will bring her back to see us before she gets transported to Stormcage. What are you planning to tell her?"

"Nothing." The Doctor swallowed, trying to seem casual. "I don't have to say anything."

Amy frowned. "You're not going to say goodbye?"

The Doctor hesitated, not knowing what to say. So many goodbyes already: the Library, Trenzalore. Maybe he could make this one hurt himself a little less by simply leaving... After all, River had so much before her. A life with a husband she actually knew; and he grimaced, thinking of her face back in the courtroom. Anger and grief and confusion; unfamiliar expressions for her to direct toward him, and he hated how they were making him feel.

Hopeless. Miserable. Adrift in his own skin.

"She'll see me soon enough," the Doctor finally said. "Anyway, I've a companion waiting for me. I promised her coffee. And you know how I hate to be late for an appointment."

Rory snorted, then tried to cover it with an unsubtle bout of coughing; and Amy began to snicker.

"First time for everything?" she asked, pretending to ignore his pointed glare. "Okay, then. You're going to go, River will see you soon, and we'll see you…?"

The Doctor bit the inside of his cheek; his eyes quickly scanning Amy's face. The silver strands in the bright red; the lines around her eyes…

"Soon," he promised. "I always come back, Pond. I'll take you on a trip somewhere."

"Well," Amy said, nudging her hand against his, "tell whichever you we see, that you said you'd take us to New York."

The Doctor frowned, not wanting to be reminded. New York and Weeping Angels and goodbyes. "That's in my past, Amelia," he said gruffly. "Can't remind him of anything."

"Oh," she said, considering. "I guess that's right. Then… did we have a good time? Find what we were looking for… a little girl hiding in an alley?" Her eyes were fixed on his, and so hopeful that he scowled harder.

"Can't tell you that either."

"And I thought the other you was Mr Grumpy Pants," Amy muttered. "You're giving him a run for his money."

"Not grumpy," said Rory. "Scottish."

"Don't blame us for him," Amy retorted. But then she relented, grinning up at the Doctor.

"Take care of our daughter. Promise, now. Your honour as a Scot."

"I always do," said the Doctor. "And I should still go. River will be here soon. And Jack will bring you back to Leadworth."

But he still didn't move. Just stood for a moment, looking at his Ponds. Happy, healthy, alive… he didn't think he hugged now and he never said goodbye. But this might really be the last time he saw them; and he shifted uncomfortably before shrugging, spreading his arms just enough to pull them both into him.

"Be well," said the Doctor gruffly.

"You too," said Rory, his face mashed up against the Doctor's shoulder. "But… do you mind letting me go? It's fine," he said hastily. "Hugging… no, that's great. Keep hugging Amy, if she wants it. But we can say goodbye from a little ways away."

The Doctor bit back a smile, letting Rory go, but hugging Amy tightly for one moment longer until she began to fidget, hissing instructions into his ear.

"Don't travel alone," she whispered. "And remember to shower. Be good to my daughter. And to yourself… alright?"

"Yes, Mummy," the Doctor said sarcastically. Amy drew back, glaring; but he glared back at her until her lips twitched in a faint smile.

"Mother in law," she said, raising her chin. "And don't you forget it."

"I could never forget my Ponds," the Doctor muttered before nodding one last time, hastily backing out of the room, before he could say anything else embarrassing.

Before the door could swing shut behind him though, it was pushed back open and Jack slipped out to look meaningfully at the Doctor, brows raised. The Doctor sighed. He'd known his luck wouldn't hold; Jack had been quiet when he was talking to the Ponds, staying in the background; but the Captain would always have found a way to talk to him before he left.

"So," Jack said, not even making any attempt at small talk. "You did it."

"Obviously," said the Doctor. "Not like I had a choice, did I?"

"There are always choices, Doctor. You know that."

He did. But this situation: River's trial, her personal history. Once, she'd told him not to rewrite one line; in which case it could be argued that all this was meant to happen. She was meant to kill him on the shores of Lake Silencio – he was meant to come back, years later, to save her from a death sentence.

And yet, it stung. Timelines aside, nothing he'd done here felt like a victory.

"I have to go," said the Doctor shortly. "I keep saying that I have a companion to get back to, coffee to pick up-"

"And a time machine," interrupted Jack. "I think what you really have is no want to continue this conversation right now."

He wished, in this instant that Jack didn't know him as well as he did. The Doctor shrugged, choosing not answer; and Jack sighed.

"This regeneration..." Jack shook his head. "Look, before you run off, I just needed to ask something about the Ponds. What they should know about the future... I'm only asking because we developed something at Torchwood…"

"Retcon?" the Doctor asked, scowling.

"Yeah." Jack looked faintly uncomfortable. "That. And I know, I know. It's not ethical… but the timelines. The person who sent me said I should give you the option. I can slip the retcon into their tea, if you want. All of them, even River. So they'll forget they ever saw this version of you."

The Doctor hesitated. He should say yes. He knew that he should… There was too much at risk if the Ponds slipped, hinting to his earlier self that they knew a different, older face that should never have happened.

But he couldn't force himself to steal anything more from them. They'd all been through so much because of him. And even if it was just the experience of them together in the aftermath of River's trial… there was so little time for his Ponds to be a family; and he knew from personal experience that it would be over soon enough.

"No," said the Doctor finally. "Let them keep their memories. They might not end up with anything else, one day."

Jack smiled, looking relieved. "I hoped you'd say that. You're a good man, Doctor."

The Doctor snorted, choosing not to answer the way he wanted to. I doubt that. But Jack was still grinning at him, as though he'd guessed what he was thinking.

"Word of advice for this particular regeneration, Doc. Your inside voice should stay inside your head," Jack said. "Try not to say everything you're thinking aloud."

The Doctor bit back the string of swear words threatening to come out his mouth, instead fixing Jack with a stern glare and saying: "we're done."

"Yes…" Jack's head was tilted to the side, as though he was listening. And then he nodded. "Yes, you're right. We're done."

A second too late, the Doctor realised what Jack had been listening for. The measured tread of feet, a faint counterpoint of jingling chains. The Judoon, escorting River to the visitation room... and thanks to the good Captain, he'd been delayed enough to have to see River after all.

"Traitor," the Doctor hissed beneath his breath. Jack only laughed, giving him a brief two finger salute before disappearing into the room. Leaving the Doctor alone in the hall to face his wife; who stopped a few paces away from him, the Judoon behind her.

River bit her lip, finally murmuring in a low voice: "I thought you'd have left by now."

"I had planned to," the Doctor admitted. "Your friend detained me."

"Good. I had wanted to ask you something... I'll have to remember to thank him for keeping you here."

The Doctor cringed, thinking of how Jack was often thanked for help. "A card would suffice."

One of River's eyebrows lifted, mockingly. "I'll tell him you said so."

"You do that," the Doctor muttered. "He'll understand."

River stared at him, green eyes opening wider in surprise. "Oh," she breathed, "the look on your face just now... Are you jealous of Jack for some reason?"

"Of him?" The Doctor scoffed. "No. Of course not."

"I wouldn't blame you, if you were. He's handsome, loyal. A good friend," River said, smiling slightly before adding: "and a very good man."

The Doctor frowned, not wanting to ask; and yet the question came out his mouth against his will. "What about me?"

"What about you?" River asked, giving him a coolly appraising look that made him quickly stammer out his reply.

"You're giving Jack compliments, and he's not even here. So... your defence." He was trying to sound casual, and had a feeling he was failing. "What do you have to say about me?"

River shrugged. "Dye the roots and crack a smile. I don't think it'll kill you."

The Doctor frowned, not wanting to admit: that's not what I meant. He'd never had to tell River what he meant before. She'd always just known what he needed to hear.

"You know," River said suddenly, "you're not as good at hiding your thoughts as you think. I can see what you're thinking; it's written all over your face. If we're not talking about Jack, then it's someone else. You are jealous.

"In fact," she continued, "I think it's why you agreed to help me in the first place... I said it before. It's not everyone who would defend a murderer... so why don't you finally tell me the truth?"

Her tone was… not quite teasing. It was more of a taunt; and the Doctor shook his head, refusing to admit she was right. (Unfair that she couldn't recognise him, but could still manage to know his face enough to read him.)

It was impossible to say he was jealous of the way she used to look at him. That she knew him, knew all the stories; and yet she still saw a good man. One worth saving... even if he'd been an idiot. Running so much that he didn't appreciate what he had almost lost, if his later self hadn't come back to save her trial at the last moment.

"Jack is a good man. But you think I'm not?" the Doctor asked, choosing not to answer River's question.

He should have known she wouldn't be distracted. River shrugged casually, crossing her arms and surveying him. Her eyes tracked up and down; he could actually feel the intensity of her gaze as he fought the urge to blush. He was a different man now; but funny that his wife's scrutiny could still do that to him.

"I don't know you," River said finally. "You've never told me anything about yourself... and don't think I haven't noticed that you won't answer my questions. Are you a good man?"

The Doctor winced, inwardly. Yes; there it was. The reason why her verdict didn't feel like a victory. The words of that old poem... count the cost, the battle is won, but the child is lost.

He may have won the trial. Saved her. But if she didn't see him... at the end of everything, River not knowing him felt as though he still didn't know himself.

"Hardly matters," said the Doctor finally. His hand was curled in a loose fist, his thumb stroking over the rings on his finger.

"And I will answer your question, River Song. I am jealous. But the person I'm jealous of…"

"Yes," River prompted. "What about him?"

"He's gone," said the Doctor flatly.

"Dead?"

"Good as."

Her lips pursed; her eyelids fluttered shut for a moment before she opened them again, tilting her head back to meet his gaze. It felt difficult to breathe… The Doctor swallowed, seeing the sadness in her eyes, the small crease between her brows as though she was in pain… and he didn't know why.

His younger self might have known how to comfort her, when she looked like that. But he wasn't that man.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I have to… I have to leave."

River nodded, the movement sending her curls bouncing around her face. Her hair had always been magic, drawing him in, because he couldn't help reaching out to stroke his hand lightly over them, wrapping one bright curl around his index finger.

River's eyes were following his movements, suspiciously. "What are you doing?" she asked.

The Doctor shrugged. "Saying good bye."

He dropped his hand, taking one small step back. Then another, and another. Amazing how fast he could move like that. Almost fast enough that he could pretend not to hear River's whispered request to wait; before he spun around, hastily turning the corner and waiting out of sight until she had entered the visitation room.