Worst-Case Scenario
Round and full like the moon, her belly was swollen, and as the Doctor often jokingly remarked, 'full to capacity.' She would be delivering soon, only two weeks to go, by her grandmother's estimations. River Song was past the nervousness; she was ready to have her baby and hold it in her arms. Even the prospect of all the pain she would have to endure was no longer truly daunting, because of the relief it would bring. She had been carrying this baby for ten months, nearly a year. Things had happened at odd times; morning sickness not only occurred really late, it happened twice. Development was slower than usual for either species. Everything that a pregnant human had to face, she had to face, only at an unexpected time and often severely to boot.
Standing in the console room, one hand on her belly and the other on her lower back, she could feel it, suddenly. A pressure inside her, like a smaller version of those machines used to pry open old Earth automobiles. It hurt…and then all at once was gone.
She was in the hospital, stark and white. The Doctor held her hand as the hover-gurney sped down the hall. Doctors and nurses, masked and in pale green scrubs, ran along with the gurney. Her heart raced, but she was shaking. It was too soon. The baby wasn't due for another two weeks. Didn't her grandmother say that the baby wasn't quite ready?
"Mrs. Song, I need you to push now." His voice was so calm, so soothing. She felt sick. How had they gotten to the delivery room? She couldn't remember. There was pressure there, like she ought to push, and she tried. The Doctor stood with her. His face was white as a sheet, brown eyes wide and panicked.
"What is it, Doctor? What aren't you telling me?"
It hurt! It hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt. She was pushing pushing pushing screaming and his face was white like a sheet, eyes wide and dark and old.
"What's wrong, Doctor? What's wrong? What aren't you telling me?"
It hurt and it hurt and it didn't hurt anymore and it was quiet and his face was white and it was quiet so quiet, but there were lights flashing and his lips were moving and she couldn't hear the sound and there ought to be sound, oughtn't there?
"Mrs. Song." It was a doctor and he wasn't wearing a mask anymore, he was holding a bundle in his arms and the Doctor was there and his face was the color of milk and he was crying. Why was he crying? They had a baby now.
"Mrs. Song." The doctor offered her the bundle but it was wrong somehow, all wrong. The blanket was wet at the bottom, dark and wet. Dripping red onto the floor. Dripping red.
No.
No, it couldn't be.
And the bundle was red and dripping and the Doctor was white as milk and crying crying crying and she could hear her own voice whispering denials as the doctor with the bundle was holding it and it was dripping dripping dripping and he was sorry mrs. song so sorry but the baby the baby the baby was dripping dripping dripping red and where was her baby? This wasn't right wasn't right wasn't right and she was crying now, sobbing, feeling the hot tears run down her cheeks, fall onto her chest and her empty empty empty belly.
"NO!"
She was screaming screaming screaming as the bundle dripped red and the Doctor was white as milk and crying and all she could hear was the dripping of red of the bundle and her baby was dead dead dead and never coming back and dripping red dripping dripping dripping.
No.
No.
No.
No.
No.
Gasping, River Song sat bolt upright in bed. Shuddering and white as a sheet, she covered her face with her cold hands and began to sob.
The Doctor sat up almost immediately and wrapped her in his warm arms.
"River, what is it? What's wrong?"
"The baby, Doctor, the baby." She turned into his chest and sobbed. He rubbed warm circles on her back
"Shhhh now, it's all right. Only a dream."
She turned her tearstained face upwards to face him. Her eyes were fearful, red-rimmed and teary.
"I dreamed that she died, Doctor. The doctor had her in a bundle and it was dripping blood and she was—" she couldn't finish the sentence because she was sobbing again.
"Only a dream, River. It's all right now. Nothing's going to happen to our baby."
Her face was white.
"How can you be so sure?"
Smoothing her tangled curls with one hand, he kissed her forehead and held her close.
"Because I would never let anything happen to our child, all right? Nothing. This will be the safest child in the entirety of time and space, all right?"
She nodded, eyes still teary, and let him guide her back down onto the mattress of his bed. In the circle of his arms, she slowly drifted back off to sleep. This time, she did not dream.