Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. But anger is like fire. It burns it all clean.

Maya Angelou

There was a crashing sound and River hit the railing hard, her hip banging against the metal.

"Ouch!" she screamed, not in reaction to the pain but to let anyone listening, the Tardis, know that it had hurt like hell. "You could just say it wasn't possible," she snapped, moving back towards the keyboard.

She wasn't surprised. Not really. New York was always complicated, especially New York when it was still at the whim of the Angels. It was hardly a shocker she couldn't get through. She was disturbed that the Tardis seemed to be unwilling to let her go anywhere on Earth at any point in time where Amy and Rory were alive. It was frustrating and making her angry.

"Why do you always side with him?" But she knew the answer to that too. They belonged to each other, had for millennia and would continue to do so long after everyone else was gone. He'd loved her despite the fact that she was broken and stuck in one form and it had died with him on Trenzalore. River'd seen it, although she'd never told him that before. She'd found it doing research, studying her husband. She always knew.

Earlier, the Doctor had explained to her about Trenzalore, about how she'd come out of the database to help him; it brought River comfort to find out that she'd been with him in some capacity, despite the fact that it meant he'd had to split her. Part of her put back into the computer, living out the rest of her life in code.

At least the database children would still have someone to look after them. Although she knew it made no difference if she was there or not. Her absence, although it might be disastrous to the system upgrade or whatever mess of a reason he'd given her, would make no difference to the functionality of that little world. Would she be missed? Maybe, but she'd be written over eventually. Well she would have if a part of her weren't still there.

She sighed, stopping her typing when she noticed her hand shaking. She was a mess and out of control. She knew that. She felt like she had as a teenager, watching her parents grow continually closer to each other and having absolutely nowhere to go. No one to love. A mission that loomed in front of her with only a vague idea of anything else. That girl was gone, replaced by her. By River. River fucking Song.

But the teenager hadn't gone far.

And him. The Doctor. Her husband. He was so different. She challenged him and he challenged her back. He didn't back down. Didn't give in. He didn't let her win. She had no power over him. No control. And he made her so angry.

But it wasn't just him. It was them. All of them. Ten, Eleven, and stupid Twelve.

And the fact that he hadn't gone back to her house. She appeared to be no more than a blip on his lifelong radar. There was nothing of her here. Nothing saved. Nothing treasured. She'd kept photos of them, a small album tucked into her beside drawer. She'd put it together with a random idea of giving it to him as a gift. And it was gone now, with everything else. Her work. Her books. Her memories of her parents.

All of it meant nothing. And it was all that she'd had. A place she couldn't go back to because time had dictated that she'd died. Died for nothing, apparently. She felt like she'd meant nothing to him. Him. Her him. Not this one who she couldn't figure out. Or not the one before who didn't know her yet. She'd forgive them; they were old and confused respectively. But hers. Her husband had ignored her. He'd moved on, leaving her in the dust, to have feelings for another.

Clara.

Clara and time.

Time.

Stupid time.

So what if he'd done a forcible U-turn.

All she wanted to do was see her parents.

She wiped the back of her hand over her cheek, furious that more tears had appeared. She didn't cry like this. She didn't. She was River Song. She killed the Doctor. Twice technically – well once and saved him, and a robot once – but it was still twice.

"Fine," she snapped when the Tardis rejected her coordinates for Luna. She couldn't go home either, it seemed. "I just wanted to get some damn clothes."

She looked down at the leggings she'd managed to find and tried to ignore the fact that she was still in one of his shirts. She tried to shake of the feeling of his hands on her body as the scent of him wafted up to her nose. His new scent. The cleaner and somehow less musky aroma.

She grabbed the vortex manipulator and held it up almost defiantly. "I'll just do it my way. You can find your own way back to him."

And the machine would, she knew. Probably to less than thirty seconds after she'd dumped him. He'd be conveniently located to grab Clara and go on whatever adventure he had planned for them next.

She wrapped the leather around her wrist and typed in the coordinates. She reached for her bag as some alarm on the console started to shout at her. She ignored it. "Don't try to apologize now," she said as she reached up to hit the activation sequence.

She hit the last button as the Tardis started to scream at her. Every alarm, every light. She just had time to realize something was wrong before everything exploded around her.

There was a wave of heat, fire searing all around her. The vortex manipulator started to smoke before it popped off her arm. She saw it arc towards the console before the room was gone all together. She was lost, in the vortex she thought, before seeing a series of stars start to swoon around her.

Her lungs hurt and her head ached, accosted by the lack of pressure. She had just a moment to panic before there was another bang, the manipulator sizzling beside her as she landed on a stone floor. She hit her head, the sensation making her nauseous as she responded to sudden pressurization.

She reached up, trying to feel the wound, but her arm was numb. Nothing seemed to be working as she coughed and her lungs started to burn.

She smelled sulfur and was able to see clouds of vapor rising all around her. She had to close her eyes, they burned, too.

"Oh," she managed, turning her head to the side because she thought she was going to be sick. Not that it mattered, she realized, seeing the world fade to black around the corners of her eyes. Death was different this time.

Easier and meaningless.

Pain scorched across her body and she stopped forcing air into her lungs as the burning sensation spread. She felt herself relax. It would be over quickly. She thought of him, but not her him. The new one. She felt sorry for him. He was going to be angry and hurt.

It was a mess, but he'd loved her.

She felt herself letting go, the image of her husband grey-haired and blue-eyed staring back at her across the oblivion. She smiled, only vaguely aware of the cooling, tingling sensation in her stomach.

The sound of something new.

Something scared, something in pain.

It wasn't her though. She didn't understand. She managed to force her arm up, hand up covering the sensation low in her belly and her mind was flooded with images. Images she didn't understand.

Her smile relaxed into a frown as her husband faded away, the sound of crying replacing him.

And her world went dark.