A year Ago

The official wrap party on the Pond Era had ended, and somehow, as it always seemed to, the unofficial one was now in full swing at Matt's flat. Three of the most insane years of their lives gone in a flash. Matt couldn't believe it was over. Yes, the end of an era, he thought as he looked around the flat at the inebriated faces of those who had become a second family.

Karen and Arthur were standing on his coffee table taking shots to the cheers of the gathered cast and crew. And there, hanging back, leaning against a kitchen cabinet, was Alex, wine glass in hand, an indulgent smile brightening her face.

"Kingston," Matt said as he sidled up next to her. As always, being near him sent blood rushing to certain parts of her anatomy. She'd sworn off men following her second divorce, but then, there he'd been, tempting her from the start. And damn it, if he didn't look like awkward perfection on a stick standing there tonight.

"Matthew," she responded, lowering her lashes, trying to tamp down a blush like a teenager.

He leaned in close and for a moment, Alex panicked, thinking he would try and kiss her, knowing that she'd had just enough wine to finally give in to her desire. After three years of non-stop flirting and pent up longing, she knew that tonight all she needed was a nudge.

"Rumor has it," he started, and she let out a sigh, almost more disappointed than relieved, "you had a meeting with Moff today," his brows raised as he gave her his most mischievous grin, "care to enlighten me?"

She laughed and drained her glass and held it out to her host for a refill, "Spoilers," she said, not in her voice, but River's.

"Damn!" Matt shook his head and poured, "Drink more!" He said playfully. Alex laughed again and raised her glass in salute.

"Oy!" Karen's very loud, very Scottish voice cut through the crowd. Everyone went silent. "You two," she was staring Matt and Alex down.

Oh god, Alex thought. Now Karen was pointing at them.

"Yep, you two idiots! Get on with it already! Get it on! Make babies, get married!" She almost fell off the table.

Arthur, along with everyone else, stared open mouthed. He grabbed at her sleeve, trying to pull her from the table. "Let me get you home," he started, but it was Alex that spoke up.

"Oh, fuck it," she muttered, mostly to herself. She grabbed the shot Matt had been about to take, and threw it back, then, she did what she had wanted to do since the first moment she set eyes on the man before her; she pulled him to her by his shirt collar, and gave him the snogging of a lifetime. As her tongue found its way into the not wholly unknown territory, thanks to their scenes together, of Matt's mouth, she registered cheers and whoops of encouragement. Yes, it would seem, everyone had known and, by the way Matt's arms had wound themselves around her, it would seem he was fully onboard with this new development.

Tension finally broken, the shell-shocked observers went back to their conversations and general drunken debauchery. And Matt and Alex were there, alone in their own slice of the universe. "Kingston," he said, eyes wide, grin even wider, "you kissed me!"

"I did," she nodded and wrapped her hands around his waist. She couldn't deny the rightness of the way they fit just so.

Matt was gazing down at her in wonder, "King, no, Alex," he amended.

Alex took his hand, "Come on," her voice was low. She didn't speak another word until she'd unlocked the door of her flat down the hall. "After you."

Alex squinted at his half naked form, her head feeling as if it could tumble from her body. "How are you so chipper?"

Matt was standing at the foot of the bed, fiddling with his belt buckle, t-shirt thrown over his shoulder. "Entirely circumstantial, I assure you," he smiled back at her. "Look, I'm going to go shower and find something to wear that doesn't smell like," he took a whiff of his shirt, and made a face, "whatever this smells like. Then, breakfast?" He looked at his phone and saw the time, "Well, brunch, more like."

"Fine," Alex waved at him, "so long as it's someplace dark."

"Not sure that goes along with Brunch."

"It does if you want to have it with me."

He came to the side of the bed and kissed her impossibly tousled hair, "On it!" He turned to leave, then was back at her side, kissing her properly. "I love you."

Alex was left blinking into the midmorning light.

The woman who had been River Song started from her troubled sleep, waking her two bed slaves. "Admiral?" The less intelligent of the two asked, "Are you alright?" The smarter of the two was already unobtrusively removing herself from the bed.

The Admiral's hand shot out and whacked the girl across the mouth as her other hand wrapped itself around her slender throat. "Get. Out," the Admiral growled at the two slaves. "That goes for you as well, you fucking bastard," she addressed the Doctor's data ghost that stood watching her from the corner. "Leave me the fuck alone!" The thrown pillow went right through him.

"River, please!" The data ghost pleaded with her, "You have to find me before it's too late!"

She laughed, and lit up a smoke, "You're dead," she pointed at him, "She watched you die. Seems a bit late to me."

"No, River, please!"

"Stop calling me that!"

"We can fix this! I never meant for you to be, this! I didn't know!"

"So, now you want me to go back to that room and what, make sure She dies? Make sure I never exist? No, thanks."

Matt had showered and cleaned up in blissful ignorance. Alex's apartment was empty when he returned. "I'm sorry," was all her note said.

Alex didn't know exactly when she had first begun to feel her life unraveling, but Matt, the show, and blasted River Song were all bound up in it somehow. The bond, as she had come to think of it between her and this character was something she'd never felt before. Not acting, but slipping on the skin of someone more her, than herself; her truest, darkest self. A lost twin. She'd find herself sitting at a café, always facing the door now, at least two escape routes evident, trying to chat with a friend, only to have them pull her out of some deep hole her mind had gone into. They hadn't been her thoughts though, they'd been River's.

Thoughts of the Doctor. A certain song had been playing that reminded her of that time in 1920's Paris, when they had drunk absinthe, well, she had, and danced all night. Somehow, Alex knew how it felt to be in The Doctor's arms, sweeping across a dance floor. Or how every time she smelled a fire now, she saw some old Tudor looking room that she knew was above a tavern where she and the Doctor had made love so many times.

But of course, she couldn't know that. River Song was just a part on a show, and Matt was no more The Doctor than she was the Queen. But sometimes, it just felt so real, and being with him, felt so right. It terrified her. When they were on set together, it was as if she truly let go, for even just a moment, Alex would cease to exist, and River Song would be left in her place.

And now, he'd said he loved her. And she had run. Hungover on a flight was never pleasant; hungover and reliving the previous night and morning over and over again whist questioning all your life choices was worse. But, there she was, off to New York for the summer as planned, though a few hours earlier.

Matt's mouth hung open in amazement. Yesterday, this would have been the most welcome news in the world, now, as he sat across from Steven Moffat in his office, he was devastated.

The older man looked puzzled, "I thought you'd be rather ecstatic that we'd gone with Alex as your new companion."

Matt rubbed his face with his hands and made a groaning noise.

"Matt, what did you do?"

Alex didn't want to turn her phone on when she landed at JFK, but she knew she had to. As expected, there were a dozen calls from Matt, several from both Karen and Arthur, and an almost equal amount of voice mails. She squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to relieve some of the pressure in her skull. What had she done?