Thanks for the lovely reviews guys, I hope you continue to enjoy this story. :)

And again, thanks to Charina for beta reading.

Part Two

Imogen and the Doctor just stared at the blonde woman before them. They couldn't move, or speak, or think. The Doctor himself could barely breathe.

River.

It had been so long since he had last seen her. He had taken her to the Singing Towers and what a night that had been, meeting his past self, watching River beam into the glowing light of the crystal towers, dancing with her much like he'd just done with dear Imogen. He remembered it all with burning clarity, River had looked so beautiful and the Towers had sung so miraculously and he had cried. And then he kissed her goodnight, placing his screwdriver in her hand, and sent her to her death. That was over two hundred years ago.

Hours passed in just one second, and River spoke once more like no time in the world had passed since he'd been with her. "Really Sweetie, it's not nice to keep a girl waiting, especially when you sent me here yourself." She started to walk around the console sending them into the vortex, "I've been here all day, and your insufferable ship –sorry Darling- refused to tell me where you were."

Imogen swallowed, and turned to the Doctor, he didn't meet her eyes. He was still staring at River, his mouth slightly open, his face completely pale, the beginnings of tears threatening to brim his eyes. Imogen reached out an arm and squeezed his hand before turning and retreated from the control room without a word.

River didn't seem to notice, she was looking at the TARDIS central column, "She wouldn't even open the doors for me, she's never behaved like that before, is she okay?" She looked over at him and frowned, "Sweetie?" she took a step forward, and he took a step back, "Are you okay? You're acting like you've seen a ghost." She stepped forward once more, and again, he stepped back.

Now worried, and a little hurt, River spoke again, "Doctor what is it? What's wrong?" She walked forwards, moving down the steps and the Doctor backed himself into a door, he couldn't speak, he could only look at her, and wish her away.

How many times had he tried to save her properly, how many machines had he built? How many theories had he made- had he squashed? How many times had he tried and tried and tried only to fail absolutely every time? Today had been the first day in many that he had been truly happy, and now… Here she was. She was wearing her army green parachute-y dress, her hair frizzier than normal, from using the Vortex Manipulator on her wrist, and he wanted nothing more for her to vanish.

He didn't want a past her. He wanted his version of her, he wanted her alive and well and absolutely safe. In a split second he realised exactly what she must have felt when she saw him all those times in his early days. He understood the pain and the hurt, the pure loss in her eyes when he'd looked at her blankly through his past self's glasses and asked her 'who are you?'. Judging from her current worriedly expressed face he was probably mirroring that pain in his own.

She reached out a hand and gently touched his cheek, her finger tips brushing in his hair like she had done all those many, many years ago in The Library…like she would do. "Doctor," she whispered, and for a moment he just looked into her eyes.

In the next he was kissing her, holding her desperately and tightly to his body, his mouth claiming her completely, he was squeezing her like she might turn into smoke at any moment, and knowing her, that was entirely possible.

River was quick to respond, pushing off his tweed jacket, allowing him to pull the zip down the front of her dress, they moved up the stairs, clinging to each other, their clothing falling away until the Doctor pressed River roughly up against the console. He picked her up and sat her on it and she pulled him to her. They made love, love full of passion and anger and hurt. He gripped her roughly, biting her lips, her neck; his fingernails digging bitingly into her skin. He was so angry with her. But he loved her, and this would be his last chance to show it. So he told her, over and over, whispering it into her lips, against her ear, over her skin. He told her and kissed her and loved her and fucked her until she came screaming in his ear and he collapsed over her, spent.

He pulled away slowly, reluctantly, and River saw tears streaked down his face. She smiled at him, and kissed him sweetly, "I love you too, Doctor,"

"You should go."

His voice was hollow, devoid of the emotion that poured from his face. He had to be rid of her. He had to be alone to scrub her scent from his body and lock himself away until he could bear to face the universe again.

And if she didn't go now, then he would never let her.

They pulled their clothes back on in silence, avoiding eye contact. River tapped in co-ordinates in her Vortex Manipulator and looked at the Doctor sadly. She wasn't sure why he was acting so strangely, but knew better than to ask. His eyes found hers and she pushed away her confusion to the very back of her mind.

She bit her lip gently, before saying in a soft voice, "Goodbye, my love."

The Doctor swallowed and moved toward her with purposeful strides, taking her into a tight hug and nuzzling her hair, breathing her in one last time. "Goodbye, River."

He squeezed her tight, and with a sudden flash of blue she was gone, leaving only smoke behind her. He lowered his arms to his sides; he could still smell her perfume.

"She didn't recognise me,"

He turned slowly and saw Imogen standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at him sadly. He nodded, "No… You- you hadn't been born yet. For her."

She nodded and the Doctor noticed she was crying. He swallowed, "You miss her."

"I always will," she whispered, "won't I?" she stepped down to the console, "It's been over two hundred years, and every day it still hurts, every day my hearts ache for her. She was my mother, and I will always miss her. Always. Surely you, you of all people know that, Father."

The Doctor looked at her, his daughter, only a child, barely three hundred years old and yet the weight of loss and age already pressed down on her shoulders. "Yes," he told her, "I do know. She was your mother, and nothing can ever reverse that pain, that longing. But as you age and regenerate and live, it will become less potent. You'll be able to press it to the back of your mind, your hearts."

Imogen had tears running down her cheeks now, "I never got to say goodbye."

He smiled at her sadly, "Then let's go and say goodbye together."

tbc