Despite the changes of the TARDIS and the Doctor himself, this particular destination never changed, it seemed: dim and gloomy and metallic and memory-ridden…

Lights were flashing. River was fidgeting with something rapidly, twisting wires and cables around in her lap. Her actions were urgent.

A mechanical voice: "Autodestruct in two minutes…"

The Doctor was lying on the floor, unconscious and handcuffed. He began to come to. He saw her. "Oh, no, no, no, come on, what are you doing? That's my job!" he shouted with a fleeting slur.

There was a laugh in her voice. "Oh, and what, I'm not allowed to have a career, I suppose?"

He tugged at his restraints. "Why am I handcuffed—why do you even have handcuffs?"

A suggestive look from River, a cheeky smile, and, "Spoilers."

The Doctor's voice rose, and his desperation was evident. "This is not a joke. Stop this now. It's gonna kill you! … I'd have a chance; you don't have any."

River's voice was as loud as his, but firm and steady. "You don't have a chance, and neither do I!"

He looked at her, his eyes wide, hope draining from him and torment began to boil in an instant as he recognised her determination… It was that stubborn will that paralleled his own once he had made a decision. After that jaw of his was set just so, nothing could move him. And here, River Song, a stranger from his future, was using it against him...

River looked at the computer screen, which read, "AUTO DESTRUCT ENABLED/1:38," and the number was descending. In a softer voice, she said, "I'm timing it for the end of the countdown." The Doctor looked on hopelessly as she explained with rapidity. "There'll be a blip in the command flow. That way it should improve our chances of a clean download."

The Doctor spoke frantically through clenched teeth, his words whispery but loud. "River, please, no!"

Now she was shaking, and her voice was wavering wildly. Tears made her eyes glassy and her throat tight. "Funny things is, this means you've always known how I was going to die. All the time we've been together, you know I was coming here." River's hands were vibrating with emotion, and the Doctor looked on in fear and dismay of what she was about to say. "… The last time I saw you—the real you—the future you, I mean—you turned up on my doorstep with a new haircut and a suit." River's tears were now choking her. "You took to me to Darillium to see the singing towers." She tried to breathe in vain. "What a night that was!" Slowly, she said, "The towers sang… and you cried, and you wouldn't—"

"Autodestruct in one minute."

"—tell me why. But I suppose you knew it was time. My time." Tears were now blurring the Doctor's vision as well. "Time to come to the Library… You even gave me your screwdriver. That should have been a clue."

The Doctor glanced at the very screwdriver he was yet to give her on the floor, and lunged suddenly for it. It was lying just out of reach, the handcuffs holding him back effectively. He roared in frustration, "Let me do this!"

River was all but sobbing now. "If you die here, it'll mean I'd never met you!"

"Time can be rewritten," the Doctor said fiercely, pleadingly.

River shook her head as the seconds ticked away. "Not those times. Not one line, don't you dare... It's okay," she whispered, her voice gentler now. "It's okay; it's not over for you." A tear escaped one eye, hovering lazily, as if unaware of the events occurring around it. "You'll see me again… You've got all of that to come." Strength built in her tone, intensity and passion burning their ways through the dim room. "You and me… Time and space… You watch us run."

The Doctor spoke quietly. "River, you know my name."

"Autodestruct in ten…"

"You whispered my name in my ear."

"Nine…"

River glanced at the countdown and donned the black, thorny, complicated halo of wires she had fashioned for the transference. It may as well have been a noose.

"Eight… Seven…"

"There's only one reason I would ever tell anyone my name." The Doctor's voice shook.

"Six…"

"There's only one time I could..."

"Five…"

River shushed him forcefully. "Shhh, now!"

"Four… Three…"

Another tear leaked from her eye. "Spoilers," she whispered, smiling, though her pain was obvious.

"Two…"

River slammed the two cables in each hand together, throwing her head back as the automated voice said, "One…"

There was a flash of light that was so bright and so blinding that the Doctor could not see River, could not look at her, and he turned his head away. The snapping and gurgling of electricity swept over the room like a storm, and all was white energy.

The Doctor shuddered violently, drawing his tweed jacket around him. He was cold and sad and alone and angry and hot all at the same time. His shoulders were tight, and he felt something building within him. He thought it might be rage, and self-loathing pricked at his skin. He hadn't been able to save her that night. Hadn't been able to stop her. Hadn't been able to let it be him, let it be him to die, let it be him to save the Library's patrons… He would never forgive himself, he knew.

He tried to focus through the fog that was pea soup in his head. He stood just outside the TARDIS, on hand on her door frame, still looking at the darkish room as his thoughts swirled. His hearts pounded and his mind was so, so loud as he remembered every moment with her, every second with the unruly River Song, who now might as well have just been a tale he'd heard long ago. The woman that saved his life on multiple occasions, and the woman who took it on just one (and incompletely, at that).

He gripped his sonic tightly, feeling a metal edge bite his palm. He crossed the room to where the main computer was, the datacore. He gave it a quick buzz with his screwdriver, and numbers zoomed about the screen like insects in values large and small, stating the number of occupants the Library was currently harbouring. They came and went so quickly that he could barely keep up with it all, but the computer seemed to have no trouble at all with the task. It didn't matter, he knew; they meant nothing to him. He could care less if there were millions of life-forms up there on the surface than if there were none. After all, it wasn't the surface activity he was interested in.

He lifted his sonic to eye-level, examining the glowing green cartridge he had installed laterally prior to his first (second, actually, if you don't count the real first, when so many things had happened) visit to the Library. He slid the input pole into the port on the main database's computer kiosk, gripping the screwdriver firmly. He mashed a button or two. There was an electric jolt, which he'd finally grown used to, and the Doctor was gone.

Note: all dialogue between the top two horizontal lines (the flashback) is direct and exact quotation without any alteration at all. All non-dialogue text is my interpretation of the occurrences and actions that took place at the Library.