Hi everyone! So sorry for the major delay, but here it is: Chapter 10. Other chapters will follow shortly.

The Doctor's heart-to-heart-to-heart with Clara and a nudge from the Tardis leads to him seeing his wife, who's not yet his wife, for the first time on purpose.
Takes place after Flatline (S8, Ep 9) for the Doctor, and after Let's Kill Hitler (S6, Ep8) for River.

Hope you enjoy it!

"Boring, boring, really boring… Clom? Seriously? Clom?" the Doctor scoffed, eyeing the ceiling of his ship in disdain. "Come on, you're not even trying here!"

The Tardis hummed around him, tipping enough to the side to make him stagger and mumble an apology. He'd been flicking through the suggestions on the monitor for what felt like hours, images of exotic faraway planets that were supposed to be enticing but were doing nothing for him. He couldn't even ask Clara; she was at home after their encounter with the Boneless, probably busy lying through her teeth to PE between disastrous dates. Judging by the fact that her last suggestion had taken them to that god-awful Robin Hood, perhaps it was for the best.

Giving up, he flicked the monitor off with a sigh and flopped into the seat, running a hand over his face. He really needed to get a live-in one; this being alone thing really didn't agree with him.

The beep of the monitor switching itself back on made his hand drop from his face, and he leaned forwards to peer at the unfamiliar location on the screen. It was almost too dark an image to distinguish anything, save a single light that illuminated a hunched-over silhouette in the centre of a seemingly endless room, cradling a book in her hands. Fiddling with the toggle on the side of the scanner, he zoomed in on the figure enough to distinguish a halo of erratic curls which confirmed his suspicions and set his hearts in wild motion.

She was young; young enough not to have replaced the round glasses perched on her nose with contacts, young enough to be studying with almost furious intensity. Young enough to be sitting alone. He guessed that this version of River Song, the one he'd been studying on the screen for an embarrassing amount of time, had yet to acquire a title.

The Doctor sighed, raising an eyebrow at his ship. "It's almost as if you have an agenda, dear."

He'd been putting it off, and he knew it. Even the first time River had turned up, months ago now, had been more than enough to rouse unsettling hope, and the second encounter had confirmed it- this was no fluke, no temporary point of flux that would resolve itself.

"Spoilers!"

Other meetings lay ahead of him in the future, dozens of them, probably.

"Isn't that good?" Clara had asked, after "politely enquiring" (interrogating) him for half a sodding hour about the current whereabouts of his wife until he'd finally conceded to admit that she'd turned up on his doorstep and swept him away for whiskey and dancing. He'd voiced his concern to her, about River's words that were of course cryptic because when weren't they, that alluded to what he supposed could be called a second attempt.

And of course it was good. It was brilliant, wonderful, amazing, impossible, miraculous. But that didn't stop a sizeable chunk of him wishing that it wasn't happening.

"It was painful, Clara. Painful beyond belief."

"What was?"

Everything. My whole life with her. From day one, I knew where she was going, where she'd end up; and there was nothing in all the powers of time and space that I could do to stop it. That still stands. Each day with River Song is a countdown. And worse, now I have no idea when it'll reach zero. One day it'll just stop without warning, and I'll be left mourning her all over again."

"But you thought it reached zero a long time ago. Whatever happens now, isn't every minute you have with her like… extra? Like a bonus? Plus, remember what I said when she first turned up. You shouldn't know when the last time will be."

The River on the monitor sighed, pushing her glasses up her nose as she leafed through another book. A tiny, breathing little shadow alone in the dark. He knew that younger him wasn't coming; no-one was. It was the story of so many of her nights. Unless…

"Besides, can't you use this time to, you know, make amends?"

He watched River tilt her head back, studying the stars through the glass panes in the ceiling.

"Well, you always say you have regrets about you and her. So go fix them."

He could look at tonight as another number on the countdown. Or he could look at it as one less night that River spent alone.

"Fine. You win," he muttered gruffly. The Tardis whirred to life sounding almost pleased, and he set the coordinates for Luna University.

He headed down the sweeping marble steps of the university library, the box of chocolates he'd bought at some wee vintage Earth shop clutched to his chest.

River was just as she had been on the monitor; the tiny lamp next to her his guiding light, the only source of it in the vast maze of books. She didn't look up until he reached her, glasses slipping down her nose to regard him over the top of them. "Oh. It's you."

Not exactly a brilliant greeting, but he decided to take it. "Well observed." He dropped the box of chocolates unceremoniously on the desk, digging his hands in his pockets.

She was looking up at him with the sort of wariness that only shone through her eyes when young, those that he'd rarely seen in his last body. Memories of the first time he'd seen her through these new eyes of his surfaced, of night terrors and fear and uncertainty regarding everything, regarding him. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question, sitting in a library at half three in the morning."

"I'm studying; extra historiography for my dissertation." If her tone was just a little hostile, he decided to ignore it. "What's your excuse?"

There was a chair next to her, which he gladly collapsed into as if it were an old habit. "I visit you all the time." He knew it was a lie; he'd only been here a handful of times before, mostly with her parents in tow or, on a couple of occasions, post-Manhattan; wearied and alone, in a desperate attempt to cling to her for a little longer before she slipped through his fingertips. Even then he'd kept at a bit of a distance, usually sitting next to her in agreeable silence as she conversed with Amy and Rory or did research for whatever project she happened to be working on; he'd never known quite what to do with a version of his wife who wasn't his wife, wasn't his anything, yet.

"Not with this face, you haven't. And not with chocolates." She raised an eyebrow, casting a disapproving glance at his feet where they'd propped themselves up on the desk. "Is this some sort of booty-call?"

"I don't know what that is, but as it's you I'll say probably not."

The smirk on her lips as she reached for the chocolates alone told him the nature of this mysterious term "Shame." She plucked a single chocolate from the box, placing it on her tongue gingerly. "I'm watching my figure," she clarified when he raised his eyebrows at her in disapproval.

He scoffed dramatically. "Don't be absurd."

River swallowed, shifting away from him slightly and smoothing her hands over her hips self-consciously. "Well. It may not appear that I do, but…"

"Now, you know that's not what I meant, Miss Song." He dug out an orange chocolate, because he knew she loved them even if she didn't yet, and pulled it from the wrapper. "You are a very busy woman who needs…" He pressed it into her palm, "…To keep her strength up."

"And you think high-sugar junk food is the way to do that? No wonder you're always so hyperactive." She pushed the box over to him. "You should really take a few. You'll have stick insects making eyes at you if you get any skinnier."

He did just that, munching his way through half the box as River flicked through book after book on the mountainous pile at her feet, discarding each one to the side with a grunt of frustration. "God, there's nothing in these books about the Rithean Colony. You'd think someone would have written something," she muttered, sticking her nose in a thick volume with a battered spine.

"Rithean, as in the first known creatures to inhabit Jupiter? Oh, they're lovely," he commented flippantly, throwing another chocolate into his mouth. "They make smashing cakes."

River's eyes boggled, and he smirked triumphantly as she threw the book down to lean into him eagerly. "You've met them?"

He swivelled in his chair, basking in his own smugness. "Dozens of times. I was very briefly engaged to their Queen, but that's an incident best forgotten by all parties to be honest-"

"Well – come on, tell me everything you know!"

"Everything? That's an awful lot; are you sure your little brain can take it?"

"Shut up, time boy. You know you've met your match in me."

"That's no way to ask for a favour." The plan was to hold out for a please, but he soon relented under her haughty glare which, like her mother's, could win any argument outright without even being accompanied by words. "Alright, look. It started with their exposure to the solar flares…" He ripped a blank page from her notebook and prised the pen from her hand, scrawling away in loopy Gallifreyan as he rambled.

Looking up caused him to trail off, seeing the utter confusion on her face. "What's the matter?"

She nodded to the paper, a bewildered frown creasing her forehead. "What the hell is that?"

"Well, it's notes! I thought I'd note it down; I know I have a sexy Scottish voice now but I don't expect you to remember everything I say-"

"But…" She squinted at the piece of paper. "But you're not- that's not writing. That's a bunch of circles."

"It's Gallifreyan."

"Oh." She frowned, scooping the paper up to stare at it. "Ah, I think I vaguely recognise it, actually…"

"The Silence didn't teach you it?"

River snorted softly. "Sweetie, they wanted me to kill you, not write you letters."

He blinked owlishly, mind whirring; it had been doing that a lot of late, where each little piece of information that River gave him twisted or rewrote a fragment of the memory of them locked away, perfectly preserved, in his head. She'd never been short of perfect at writing Gallifreyan. It would have taken several months, at least, for her to learn that sort of ability, even for a Time Lord.

Would take.

He bit down on his lip to keep his grin at bay. "Well, I suppose I'll have to teach you."

"I suppose you will." She handed the paper back to him. "For now, English please."

"Ah, later. It's so musty in here." He wrinkled his nose, and hopped to his feet suddenly. "Let's get some fresh air."

For all her grumbles, River followed him easily enough, conceding even to lead the way on his fourth wrong term in his quest to get outside. When they finally found themselves on the deserted university green the sky, especially simulated to appear as Earth's, was incredibly authentic; wispy clouds cast veils over the stars.

"Isn't it beautiful!" "It's cloudy," she remarked flatly.

"Exactly…" He flopped onto the grass – honestly, they'd made it so much like Earth on here that you'd never know it was the moon – and propped his arms behind his head. "All those different shapes, constantly moving, evolving. You could spend hours watching them."

"You could," River retorted, but she was already seated next to him.

"I lived on a cloud once. For roughly a century, in fact."

She peered at him disbelievingly. "Why on earth would you do that?"

"Spoilers." The Doctor cleared his throat, nodding at the sky. "Not bad, this, is it? I told you you'd find your way."

She lay down next to him with a happy sigh, close enough for her curls to tickle his cheek. "I did! Archaeology, I love it. I thought the academic route was best, seeing as I wasted my education on Earth. Mind you, that's only because it was mind-numbingly simplistic."

"Only? Not because you spent roughly four days of the week in detention? On a good week." He smiled wryly at her suspicious frown. "Amy told me everything."

"Well, what can I say? Putting laxatives in the teacher's tea easily beat learning the basics of physics. The basics! Please. I was an expert in quantum mechanics by age six." She smiled wistfully. "It is a bit lonely here without Amy to talk to, I must say. You know, I used to climb through her bedroom window in the middle of the night."

"I know."

River grinned. "What else did she tell you?"

"Uh… there was one about a giraffe at the school disco."

"Ah. I'm particularly proud of that one."

"Where did you get the giraffe?"

"The zoo, naturally."

"Of course. Let's see… the stolen bus story was a favourite of Amy's. And there were a lot of torture ones, as I recall…that boy you almost drowned in the duck pond?"

"Well. He was asking for it."

"The girl you hung from the climbing frame by her ponytail?"

"Also asking for it. She picked on Rory's nose. Nobody picks on my Dad's nose."

She stuck her own nose in the air defiantly, and he sent a strict chastising mental note to his hearts to stop bloody fluttering. Saying that, he'd always loved how ridiculously protective she was over her parents, never caring that it was supposed to be the other way around.

He shoved a gentle elbow in her ribs. "You'll see them again soon."

River nodded earnestly. "They've been to visit me – well, you know that, you brought them – but as soon as I have my doctorate I'm going to find them. I have their address. Do you think they'd be ok with me staying with them? Just for a little while."

Oh no. He sucked in a steady breath, trying to still his suddenly hammering pulses. "When do you get your doctorate?"

"This summer. About four months to go." She crossed her fingers with a light chuckle.

"They made you a doctor today, did they? Doctor River Song… how clever you are!"

Yet another dream she'd never live out. Spending her nights in a cell for a crime she didn't commit instead of the house of her parents, catching up on too much lost time. He wanted to throw himself at the sun. "Uh…"

"Oh, of course. Spoilers. I just… I don't know. I'm still not entirely sure how this all works. If they think of me as their daughter, you know."

The catch in her voice made his hearts stutter enough to lift him from his inner turmoil. "They do, River." They'd tried. They really had; he'd watched them, watched them struggle with it as he bit back his own crushing guilt at having caused them such turmoil. But they'd loved River Song, even if it was never quite the same as the way they'd loved that little baby girl, or as their love for wild, irresponsible Mels. It had never been expected of them, even by River herself; but, as she'd confided when almost a Professor to his younger face, to be loved, no matter what the nature, was a precious thing to her after the isolation of her first childhood. That knowledge was enough to soothe him, and he'd let his Ponds be his Ponds in the wonderfully dysfunctional way they knew how.

"That's good to know," she smiled, relieved, and he let his eyes dart between what stars they could distinguish to conceal the distress he knew would be swimming in them because-

"When did they take you?"

"The day I became a doctor. Straight from the University."

"I know you're not supposed to tell me, but will I see them again soon?"

He nodded, swallowing. "Yes, you will." On their wedding day. The day she'd rise out of the lake in the astronaut suit and-

The lake.

The lake!

"Doctor? What's wrong?"

"Oh, I'm stupid…"

"Doctor-?"

"Uh… sorry, I've just remembered, there's – there's somewhere I have to be." Pressing a light kiss to her cheek that he only had the courage to leave there because his mind was too fogged with this new purpose to really think it through, he leapt to his feet.

River scrambled up on her elbows. "Where are you going?"

"Spoilers!" he managed, grumbling under his breath. Stupid, stupid, stupid man. He'd never even given it a thought before today.

"I hate it when you say that! Mail me the notes on the Rithean Colony!"

He barely registered her voice, only able to picture her tear-streaked, panic-stricken face on the beach. The shocking pain of the electric jolts from the suit that had killed the Teselecta, of her own gunfire in her back. Trapped at the bottom of Silencio Lake, under control of the Silence; the Silence who had just used her for her only purpose. Who had no reason to keep her alive.

Somebody had to pull her out of that lake.