Disclaimer: All rights go to the BBC, etc, I only claim the writing.

I've only a got a few more after this, so if you want any more oneshots you need to request a song! But thank you as always and please continue to review. Enjoy!

Also, I wrote a slightly darker oneshot (which is called "Born Both a Weapon and a Monster") and it would mean a lot for me if you checked it out and reviewed-don't worry, it's still Eleven/River.

I Better Be Quiet Now-Elliott Smith

A lot of hours to occupy, it was easy
When I didn't know you yet,
Things I'd have to forget.
But I better be quiet now,
I'm tired of wasting my breath:
Carrying on, getting upset.

Maybe I have a problem,
But that's not what I wanted to say.
I prefer to say nothing,
I got a long way to go,
Getting further away.

The Doctor closed the doors behind him, finding little of his usual solace in the familiar thud of wood against wood. He pressed back against the entryway and let out a heavy sigh, followed by slow trudging as he shrugged his way up to the console. He leaned over the controls, pausing to observe the flashing lights and spinning tops that encompassed the structure in front of him. He pressed a few buttons, twirling a little less madly than normal, and shook the controls until he was set off hurtling deep through the vortex.

He dragged his jacket off begrudgingly, turning to set it down on the console chair. He stopped dead in his tracks as he spotted the thick, black belt that tottered over the railing, close to slipping off. It swung back and forth almost rhythmically, though the side that hung over the TARDIS' top level had fallen much further and was beginning to drag the rest of it down.

He watched it struggle to keep its balance, teetering lightly, until the equilibrium snapped and pulled the belt to the floor. The Doctor hesitated, then ever so slowly made his way over to it and picked it up. He felt the rough fabric of the belt beneath his fingertips, smoothing it over with both hands. He lifted it up to his nose on the off-chance it carried that scent he knew all too well and upon finding that it did, in fact, clutched it tighter before placing it tenderly next to his jacket.

Oh, River. She was getting younger every time he saw her, her eyes a little less knowing each time he happened upon them. This last time she didn't even have her book yet and it took all the energy he had not to show her a face of utter despair when she looked back with a blank stare.

"Shall we do diaries, then?" He had asked. He watched as she gazed back at him, her features wrinkled in youth and confusion.

"Diaries? What diaries?" She shook her head then with unresponsive eyes, an acceptance of yet another mystery glazing within them.

It was beginning to really hurt now, the pain of knowing too much. This meant he was nearing close to their end and even though he had been for a while, he never realized how unprepared he was. She was always so confident when he was younger and took his shouts and attempts at pushing her away in stride, and only now could he really appreciate her for it.

Truly sad, it was, that they had fallen in love and were two tops spinning in opposite directions together, only to bump at the middle occasionally-if they were lucky. And they had made so many rules, so many damn regulations that they just couldn't break because they knew the universe could only hold so much contradiction.

He felt guilty that River had been able to converse with him and be with him completely in his younger days and he just couldn't do the same for her. He tried, by the stars did he try, and sometimes he'd succeed in making that young woman laugh in full, her whole body shaking with sheer happiness.

But then he'd say something odd, mention a place or person she'd never heard of, and his hearts would fall a little more into his chest as she'd look back at him expressionless.

There was more to come, he knew, more empty glances and younger smiles, and it was killing him slowly, day by day.

And then he laughed aloud to himself, a sad, desperate laugh, as he realized why it was called falling in love.

"Falling hurts," he whispered.

River glanced down at her diary, trying hard to hide the tears that were starting to form. She breathed deeply, stopping her tears before they had time to plop down to mark a page, and traced the border of her diary. She was losing him, losing every kiss, every adventure, every smile.

But River Song was strong. River Song didn't cry, not anymore, not after she'd learned to hold her own. River Song never let herself cry because if she did she'd never stop.

She stuffed her diary back into her bag, wiped the sweat off her brow, and shielded her eyes from the sun that blazed furiously overhead. This was just the latest on her long list of archaeological digs and River was growing bored. She and her team had spent the past three hours digging in a trench, finding nothing, and so she had called a break. Whipping out her diary for a quick sentimental memory, River was reminded of the Doctor she had coming and the one she had left behind.

It was ironic, there being so much of the Doctor in the universe with all of his various versions, but not enough for her. Not her Doctor, not anymore.

That was the thing, though, wasn't it? That the Doctor was there for everyone else and every other planet that needed him, except for her. The universe didn't seem to care that she needed him or that, it seemed clear, he needed her. The universe was its own being, its own mind and soul, and it didn't care about the little things like two lost souls in love.

Love was boring to the universe, blinding people and clouding their judgment. The universe would function better without the love between people like teenagers, those too hormonal to think about and decipher right from wrong. But at the same time, love was what kept the universe alive, breathing vivaciousness into the dull, mundane parts of existence.

Love was what River thrived on and thirsted on and what kept her going when she saw a man who barely recognized her. Love was the universe and River hungered for it.

But she did wonder, sometimes, what her life would have been like without the Doctor. Then again, he was there at her birth and his influence shaped a large portion of her childhood, so she couldn't really imagine a life without him. She'd grown up knowing and thus loving him, so it really wasn't a surprise to anyone when those feelings had developed into something more. But if she had had the choice to love someone else, someone stable and normal who could have given her a life so very different, who would she have chosen?

He was simultaneously the most dangerous and most beneficial person in the universe, the power of his knowledge and experience leading him to love with the potential to destroy. He was arrogant, intelligent, and boundlessly charming-just her type of man (though the idea did occasionally surface in her mind that her type might have been different had she been born in different circumstances).

She'd never truly had a choice in the matter-loving him, that is. She'd loved him from the moment she could first remember and was fairly sure she always would. But maybe it was better this way-loving someone always and forever rather than not at all. The Doctor was someone who stopped in rarely for most people, but River had gotten him her whole life. She was lucky, extraordinarily so, and she knew this.

So when her student came over with a water canteen and asked her if everything was all right, she responded with a toothy smile and said, "Yes of course, I'm always all right."