The cloister bell kicked River in the stomach, adding insult to injury. It was faint as the Doctor struggled with the TARDIS door, almost overtaken by the sound of waves against the pier. She looked over her shoulder and noticed the Titanic for the first time, struck by its size. And soon, it would be at the bottom of the ocean.

Of course, that was granted that the universe stayed intact for that long. She sighed, deep and heavy, homesickness weighing down on her heart. She realized that she didn't know who she was with anymore.

The Doctor patted the side of the TARDIS and glanced upwards. He tried the key again, digging it into the slot and twisting the cold metal with an effort. "Come on, old girl. Let's have it." The box groaned, distressed, overshadowing the cloister bell. He hushed her and rested his forearm on the sign. The door creaked open.

As soon as the Doctor pulled on the string looped through the key and stepped inside, the door banged shut. River pulled her hands away, her fingers narrowly missing being crushed. She pounded on the door. "What the hell?" The TARDIS lurched and rumbled.

The Doctor shouted back, "Just hold on a minute. She's being stubborn. She wants to take off."

"Fantastic." River wrapped her fingers around the door latch. She'd hold on if she had to. An old story the Doctor had told her about an ex-time agent came to mind.

"And that means?" The Doctor's voice was distracted, strained. The TARDIS started to buzz, the deep hum meaning she was bent on leaving. River clutched the door a little tighter, hands white.

A sharp clamor blasted behind her. Her whole body shook when the wave of noise hit her. River closed her eyes against the impact. The roaring tore, cut at her eardrums. The air thickened, made it harder to move. River pried open her eyes and torturously rotated her head over her shoulder. An impossibly bright light flashed into existence, the wind tearing into it, consuming. "Any time, Doctor," she shouted. She knew bad when she saw it.

"Give me a minute," the Doctor gritted out. The blue box faded in and out… and in… "You have to let go. The TARDIS won't stabilize with you holding on. Let go."

The wind clawed backwards. Into the light. River felt it dragging her, pulling, wrenching. Her grip on the TARDIS was the only thing left. Stuck in 1912. If he was trying to get rid of her like this… "Don't you dare leave me," River yelled. Cold panic fluttered higher in her chest, freezing her lungs. "You can't, Doctor!"

"I'm not trying!" he cried back. It had to be the paradox. Ripping apart all of reality around them. "But you need to let go."

Fading in and out…

…and in.

The TARDIS was going to dematerialize. No choice. "What if you don't come back for me?" she demanded. The light was expanding. Bursting. The fabric of the universe was crumbling. The wind blasted around the box, through River's hair, like bullets. She heard herself ask again. "You don't even know me. What if you don't come back? Why would you?"

The TARDIS shuddered with a sickening moan.

"River, trust me!"

Those words stopped her. The storm faded to a dull roar in the background. "What?" she half-whispered, half-shouted.

"Trust me," the Doctor repeated softly. His northern accent changed the sound, but they were the same words. River closed her eyes and pictured a young man with ancient eyes and a bowtie, and swallowed.

"With my life," she murmured. And she unwrapped her hands from the TARDIS.


The wind grabbed her. River plunged backwards, suspended for a moment in the air, and then the wind jerked her down. She smacked against the rough of the ground. Stones and dirt jabbed sharply against her skin. The earth rumbled, paving stones skittering out of place. The storm scraped her along the street. She pulled her head up just in time to see the blue box vanish.

Gone.

Suddenly, like a puppet, she was yanked up again, stumbling, lurching, sprawling back. River fought the tug of the wind, the burning light, the ending of everything. The air sliced around her, thinner and thinner. She lost the ground beneath her feet. The road dissolved. Noise crashed in deafening waves. The world rushed past and River struggled for breath. She kept hoping. Wait for the Doctor. She thought she heard rush of air above the din of the whirlwind. The light was close. River could feel the heat scorching her back, her sides; roasting her hands and feet.

Wait for the Doctor.

She wasn't sure anymore what direction she was facing; space was distorting around her. Up, back, forward, down. The ground had gone and now the clouds and the star were burning and dying… And yet River imagined the wheezing of brakes…

The TARDIS materialized behind her, door open. She fell, gravity shifted, and then the Doctor's arms were tight around her waist. Both of them tumbled to the floor. She took a gasping breath and exhaled deeply. The TARDIS door slammed shut.

The Doctor helped River to her feet and she leaned heavily against the console, still catching her breath. "That was some fantastic maneuvering," he commented as he spun around the TARDIS, pressing buttons and pulling levers. "Have to say. Coordinates spot on."

"Took you long enough." River smiled disapprovingly.

"Oy, River Song! You're alive, aren't you? It's a pretty good day, I'd say."

"Except for the whole paradox part." River shrugged, but underneath she studied the Doctor. She checked her belt and realized something was missing. A small, blue bound something.

"I fixed it temporarily. 1912 is no longer imploding. You're welcome." He plopped down on the tan seat and folded his arms across his chest, propping a foot against the console. River shot him a look that plainly asked how. "A complicated temporal trick I learned back in the Academy. You wouldn't understand what, but it's in stasis now, so we're fine."

"So you stopped time?" River pursed her lips.

"Slowed it extremely, but basically yes. It'll keep the wound from spreading, infecting other parts of time." He looked at her. "At least for now."

"Will it hold—" she started to ask.

"Yes," he replied.

"No, will it hold after you've made it worse?" His eyebrows furrowed. She took a sharp breath and slammed down her hands on either side of the Doctor. "I never told you my name, Doctor. And you called me River Song. So before this gets very dangerous, I want to know what you did with my diary."

"Your diary?" The Doctor stood up slowly, forcing River back.

"Yes, the little blue book. How much of it did you read?" River refused to budge any more as the Doctor tried to step around her. She crossed her arms defensively. She could smack him. She could. And he would deserve it. He looked down. River continued, "How could you? You know that's your own future."

"I only read the latest entry." He didn't meet her eyes.

"The crash of the Byzantium?" The Doctor nodded slowly. River flushed red and tried to keep her temper. "You aren't supposed to read it. It's the rule. Our rule." Her shoulders slumped. The Doctor walked past her and pulled a lever.

"So, Weeping Angels?"

"Don't even start," River growled. She spun in a circle, stamping her foot in frustration, and she rubbed her eyes. He muttered an apology and they both stood there silently. Finally, she glanced up and sighed. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

The Doctor shook his head. "No. It's my fault. I just…" he trailed off, staring at his feet.

"Wanted to believe you had a future?" River met the Time Lord's eyes briefly and he gave the slightest of nods. She wet her lips quietly. The Doctor flicked a switch and pulled around the monitor, sprawling lines and lines of Gallifreyian.

"So, Krakatoa." River tried not to notice what the words on the screen were saying, but she saw the makeshift obituary scroll by all the same. "Let's get this all sorted."