Thanks for everyone reading and reviewing! And a special gold star to KGotschall... yes, chapter titles DO come from the X-Files. (though, honestly has me admit that the title of chapter 2 is not actually a tagline...)

Disclaimer: this all belongs to the BBC.

Chapter 2: i want to believe

He had promised the first time he'd picked her up from Stormcage that he'd be there every night, even if he didn't always arrive in the right order. And whether it was out of guilt or pity or love; he'd been telling the truth. It was still early days, of course; but to date, he hadn't missed a one.

Even though; tonight, she rather wished he would have.

She lay on her bed, flat on her back with the blanket pulled around her and over her head like a shroud. Nothing to see outside, anyway. A bare cell; dark and featureless. The Doctor had brought her pictures, endless photos and books and mementos every evening; but she still hadn't gotten around to putting things out. It felt too much like acknowledgement that she would be here forever.

She sensed it before she even heard the familiar vroosh-vroosh of his landing. A singing in her head, a greeting from the TARDIS.

I'm not in the mood, she answered grumpily, at ease in the mental communication. I don't feel like talking tonight.

A brief flash of hurt, then a wordless caress of love and apology as the singing faded. She heard the hum from his sonic screwdriver, the metallic crash of the cell doors opening and his steps -almost skipping- as he came over to her bed.

"Oh!" he said cheerfully as he pulled the blanket off her. "You are under there! Was afraid that you'd left pillows bunched up, and I'd have to go track you down wherever you were. Or that I'd already been here, or something…

"Anyway!" He rubbed his hands together, grinning down at her. "Another night; another adventure! Where to? There's this planet with white grass like snow and three suns; bit bright, but always worth a visit. Or there's-"

He stopped abruptly, taking in her glare and trembling lips before sinking down on the ground next to her bed.

"Or maybe a night in?" he asked, his voice a little more quiet. "You don't look like you want to go out."

She turned her head away from him, not knowing quite what to say. He sighed in response, reaching over to turn her hand up and press a kiss into her palm, before closing her fingers over it.

"What happened, River?"

"What makes you think something happened?" She could keep the tears out of her eyes, but they still had to come out somewhere… and there they were, creeping out as a muffled thickness in her voice.

He gave her a tiny smile, the corners of his mouth barely lifting as he surveyed her. "Because I know something did."

"Know everything; do you?"

"Well." He straightened his bowtie, tugged at his lapels. "Maybe not everything… but-" he dropped his voice a little lower as he leaned in to her "-I'd never admit that to anyone but you."

She giggled despite herself at that statement, and he grinned, standing up and giving her a little nudge until she moved over and he crawled into bed beside her.

"Bit cramped," she mumbled as he pulled the blanket over both their heads. "This bed isn't really built for two."

"All the better for cuddling," he responded, squashing them together so she could feel his hearts beating against hers and his hands warm against her back. She threw one leg over his, snuggling closer to his side.

"Is that what you call this? I can think of other words."

"River!" His cheek was resting against her forehead and she could feel the heat of his blush as she grinned wickedly.

"Sorry; I always forget about that. A thousand years old, and you still blush like a schoolgirl."

"Twelve hundred and four; but who's counting?"

"Well, obviously not you…"

He pressed a kiss to her temple, and she sighed, relaxing just a little in his arms. The banter was nice. Almost enough to distract her from all the things she didn't want to think about.

"Do you want to talk?" he whispered; and she shivered a little bit as thoughts and feelings from earlier that day came rushing back over her.

"No."

"I'm here if you want to…"

"I said no." She could hear how harsh her voice was, but did nothing to change her tone. "You can't fix everything, Doctor. Apparently."

She could feel his hurt, radiating off him and into her; and she clamped down on it, trying to suppress it. She had her own grief to address. She didn't want his.

But she could still feel it, and it was driving her mad. So she pulled away -slightly, as much as her narrow bed would allow- to tip her head up and look at him.

"How are my parents? Have you seen them lately?"

"They're fine," he answered quickly. "Amy being a bit Scottish; Rory with that nose… They're fine. Why? Do you want to go see them?"

"And if I did? Could we go?"

A slight pause, and she narrowed her eyes. Hard to read his expressions when they were smashed together underneath a dark blanket… but there was something there. He might know her well enough to know if she was alright… but oh, she was learning him, too.

"If you want."

It wasn't what he said, but how he said it. A hint of reluctance, a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes… and she knew in a heartbeat that whatever had happened, whatever that event was with Weeping Angels that exiled her parents to early 20th century New York; he'd already done it, and he knew.

"No," she mumbled, pressing her face against his shoulder. "Not tonight." She could feel the tension leaving his body, his slight sigh as his arms tightened around her.

"We could, if you wanted. We'd have to call first. Just to check… see if they're in. They hate it when I drop by unannounced. Did that once; found them in bed and…" he shuddered in recollection, and she smiled.

"Not tonight," she said again, pressing her face harder into his shoulder, feeling the sharpness of his collarbones beneath her cheek, the tweed itching under her chin. "I don't want to see them right now."

The sounds of Stormcage, the constant thunder and lightning flashes it was famous for were muted beneath the blanket; and she huddled next to him, taking comfort in his closeness, his warmth beside her.

"How many people have travelled with you?" she asked suddenly, feeling his hands still against her back in surprise. "In twelve hundred years, how many people have there been who meant something to you?"

"Too many to count," he answered. "Hundreds. Thousands, even."

"You forget how many there were, exactly? Were my parents just the latest in a long line, then?"

She could feel his smile, soft and bittersweet, against her forehead. "I never forget them, River. I remember each one; even when I don't go back for them, or when I know they're gone... I loved them, and I remember them all. And your parents…" He paused, shaking his head.

"How could I forget the Ponds? Amelia Pond, the girl who waited; and Rory Williams, the last Centurion. Your parents; the best of what humanity has to offer. How could I ever forget them?"

"Then how do you stand it?" Her fingers were clenched in his lapels, the knowledge of what would happen like a weight in her head, in her hearts. "Knowing that you're going to live forever, and the people you love will just fade and die?"

"I won't live forever," the Doctor whispered. "Time Lords have a finite lifespan, just like everything else."

"Twelve hundred and four sounds pretty old to me."

He scoffed. "Semantics, River."

"You're not answering my question," she persisted. "How do you do it? How do you deal with saying good-bye?"

There was a long pause, with only the gentle caress of his hands smoothing down her spine to mark the time. He cleared his throat; the sound emerging as an odd croak in the quiet between them.

"I don't," he admitted finally. "I don't deal with it. I don't like seeing the people I love getting older, because I know that it's getting closer to when I have to say goodbye and be alone without them. I hate goodbyes, River. I hate endings."

"Then what do you do? Just… leave?"

She already knew the answer, and she knew that he knew that. So he didn't reply; and his silence told her more than words ever would.

"You love them and know you'll miss them when they're gone, but you really just leave people behind? Run away? You told me to never run when I'm scared. Don't you remember your own rules, Doctor?"

He laughed softly, a childish sounding chuckle with so much sadness in it as he tugged the ends of her hair until her face was tipped up to him.

"Rule one."

"The Doctor lies," River murmured. "I knew that. But I didn't think that meant that you held people to better standards than the ones you practice. Why do you counsel me not to run away, but you do it?"

"Because you, River Song, are so much braver than I am."

She smiled slightly, hearing his confession. The words, soft and low, pulled grudgingly out of his mouth by honesty.

"Am I?" she asked. "You think I'm braver than you are? The great Doctor?"

"My River," he whispered, lowering his head until his lips could just softly brush against hers, "isn't afraid of anything. She can go anywhere, and do anything… She is so, so brave, and I love that about her."

"Do anything, you say?" River asked, her hearts beating a little faster, and not only from his kiss. "Can she - I mean, can I?"

"You can find a way to do almost anything."

Anything, she thought, her mind racing and jumping from idea to idea, concept to concept. River Song can do anything… except that I am her. And maybe, I can fix things that even the Doctor can't.

"I've changed my mind," River said. "Can we go out somewhere?"

He was pulling her in for another kiss -and she could feel him pouting a little- but he sighed and smiled as he leaned back. "Anywhere you want, Doctor Song. Just name it."

"Tescos. I'm running low on tea."

She dressed with care this time. A dark blue dress borrowed from the TARDIS, the fullness of the long, demure skirt contradicting the low neckline. Pointy-toed high heels and stockings with seams up the backs; a gold necklace and tiny hoop earrings. Vortex manipulator looking shockingly out of place on her wrist, and a carrier bag stuffed with tea clutched in her hand.

And she was ready, she thought, full of anticipation and a hint of anxiety. Ready for whatever she'd find on the other side of that door in New York.

Rory, this time. Flinging the door open, pulling her into a tight embrace that made her bones ache and her ribs threaten to crack… but oh, she loved every moment of it.

"You owe me two hugs," he said, not letting her go. "I didn't see you yesterday. And we don't see you nearly enough."

"But I brought tea this time," she managed to squeak, feeling all the air leaving her lungs from the depth of his hug. "Tea!"

"Which I'll rescue, thank you very much!" Amy had appeared out of nowhere, whisking the bag from her hand, and pushing it at Rory.

"You," she said, with a grin that transformed her from the indescribable Amy that River had met the previous day, into the Amelia that Mels had grown up with, "go make us a cup. I think I am owed a hug from my daughter."

"You saw her yesterday; but I'm the one relegated to tea duty?" Rory laughed, even as he headed into the kitchen, and Amy pulled River into a fierce embrace.

"Are you alright?" she whispered. "You ran out of here so fast yesterday, and by the time I got to the door you were gone."

I'm fine. The lie was on the tip of her tongue, teetering toward her lips when she abruptly answered honestly. "No," River admitted. "I'm not alright. But I came back; so doesn't that count for something?"

Amy nodded, pulling her by one hand into the kitchen. Already, just from yesterday, it seemed familiar. So much like home… although maybe that was due to the company. Amy, in a pale green dress much shorter than fashions really ought to be dictating now… a dress that River thought she remembered from a trip into London with Mels. And Rory, casual in jeans and t-shirt, hair sticking almost straight up around his face.

If it wasn't for the appliances straight out of the 1930s, the scrubbed wooden table and New York scenery outside the window, she could have been back in Leadworth. Almost. There was still something; something too vague to put her finger on that seemed so out of place.

"Amy said she told you yesterday," Rory said, putting her tea down in front of her. "How we ended up here."

"She told me," River agreed. "And I still don't believe it."

"Believe it." Rory shrugged, setting a plate of biscuits in the centre of the table, turning to give her a sidelong look. "We're New Yorkers now, little lady."

She snorted with laughter, hearts lightening in a brief moment of hilarity. Rory did always make her laugh… and hearing him deliver that line, straight faced with a gravel-like American accent was beyond funny.

"Just listen to you! What are you… nurse by day; New York gangster at night?" Her parents both chuckled in appreciation, sitting down across from her at the table.

"Close," Amy responded, taking a sip of tea. "But he's a doctor now, not a nurse."

All at once, the laughter went away. "But," River protested, "you were a nurse. A good one."

He shrugged. "It caused too much attention in these days. Men weren't nurses. Anyway, I always wanted to be a doctor; and after Amy-"

"I kept writing," she cut in smoothly, with a warning look. "I'd written travel articles for awhile back in England, and the first book I published here made enough money for him to go to medical school."

"In Old New York," River added, unable to let that go. "You're living in early 20th century New York."

"There are worst places to be," Amy said cheerfully. "After all, New York is the land of great shopping! Even if they haven't embraced-"

"Mini skirts," Rory grumbled with a slight frown at his wife, "Yeah, we know. We've both heard that complaint before."

Amy made a face at him, and him at her; until River rolled her eyes, good naturedly.

"When did the two of you get so you could finish each others sentences? You never used to, and it's…"

"Love?" Rory suggested.

"Marriage," Amy said.

"I was going with creepy." She shook her head, her mind caught in a sudden thought. "Is that what the Doctor and I have to look forward to? Knowing each other enough that it's like we share a brain?

"I think," Rory said wryly, "you two think enough alike anyway." Amy nodded, not even bothering to conceal a smirk.

River smiled, even as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying to figure out how to start. She'd had a plan for this trip. Something to propose.

"I wanted to ask something," she began awkwardly, groping for her tea and taking a sip. "You said he can't fix this. The Doctor."

Amy and Rory exchanged a look; a deeply significant one.

"No," Amy replied, apparently the spokesperson for their team of two. "He can't."

"Not even with the TARDIS, you said." Encouraged by their nods, she barrelled into the rest of her speech, everything she'd been thinking and planning falling haphazardly out of her mouth.

"But maybe I could." At Amy's expression, River spoke faster. "No, listen. I was thinking about it… With the vortex manipulator, I could take you back to the 21st century. It would play with your time streams but it's not impossible; as long as I move you to a different place -not Leadworth- it won't create a paradox, and why are you both shaking your heads? It would work. I know it would!"

And then, she continued in her head, not daring to say the words aloud, you won't be stuck here. It was too easy to see the correlations between them and her. Trapped, living in a time and place not native to them. Living without their families.

And maybe she wouldn't be doing it from the most noble of reasons. It was less out of worry for them, living in old New York, than it was for her… She wanted her parents. River Song had finally gotten to a point when she could be honest and she could have the family she'd wanted; and to know they were scattered in time and she'd have to say goodbye when she'd just properly found them… well. Even if it was selfishly motivated, she wasn't ready to give up on having them in her life. She couldn't. And there had to be a way to fix things.

"It won't work," Amy said, her voice gentle. "What happened, River, was meant to happen. I told you; we're not exactly stuck. There are a lot of reasons why we stay here. And one of them… we can't feel fixed points like you and the Doctor can; but believe me: us being here is fixed. There's proof we stay."

"Who told you that?" River demanded. She could hear the pleading in her voice, the desperation. "What proof? And fixed points can be rewritten!"

"No," Rory said quickly. "Fixed points are going to happen no matter what; you told us that when we got here. Two paths diverging in the woods, but always leading to the same place. Anyway, we won't let you rip reality apart, not again and not for us. It's useless. And you did so much to get us settled alre-" He broke off, glancing at Amy.

"I mean," he continued smoothly, "there's no reason to. We're alright, River. It's not as bad as you would think, you know. It was like a new adventure at first. Fixing our finances, finding this apartment, getting jobs…"

"The hardest part," Amy said, a teasing note in her voice, "was not having telly or mobiles... But we don't miss them. Well… not all the time, anyway."

She was looking from one to the other, despair almost choking her as she saw her plans falling to shreds. It hadn't occurred to her that maybe they wouldn't want to be saved. That maybe, they weren't as desperate to leave New York as she was for them to be back in Leadworth.

"If you won't let me save you, then tell me something else," River demanded. "The Doctor can't save you, you said. Why? There's something I think you're not telling me. And I think it's about him." She bit her lip, searching for the right words, the proper words to use about Amy's Doctor. Her Doctor now, too.

"Why can't he come back for you in the TARDIS? Is he really unable to? Or did he… leave?"

She didn't want to ask, and yet she wanted to know. Madame Kovarian had made she knew (proof, she'd called it, of his utter disregard for life), and even without him saying it, she'd heard the stories, all the stories about friends and strangers and enemies and Companions left to make their way after he abandoned them. She tried not to think about it too hard but he'd even left her, alone in a hospital in the 51st century and surrounded by cats in nurse's clothes… and she still blamed him that she'd never look at kittens the same way again. It had been for noble reasons, allowing her to become who she was supposed to be… but it had still been leaving. The Doctor being the Doctor; always running. Leaving and not looking back.

But the Ponds, his Ponds were special. She'd always thought, in word and deed, that they were special…

"Did he?" River insisted, staring hard at Amy. "Just tell me; did he leave you behind?"

"River," Amy said, leaning across the table to twine their fingers together. "You are young, aren't you? Don't you know him, yet? He didn't leave us; he wouldn't have."

"Then why he hasn't come back for you?"

"He can't. Timelines and paradox… if he brings the TARDIS here one more time, he could rip New York apart; and he seems to spend a lot of time resetting the universe…" At the blank look on River's face, Rory sighed and Amy flinched.

"Maybe you should be doing this," she snapped, glaring at her husband. "I keep giving her spoiler after spoiler." Rory held up his hands, shaking his head in an unmistakable 'not me' motion, and Amy grumbled.

"Sorry," she muttered, still glaring at Rory before turning back to River. "You were always really good with the spoiler thing; sorry I'm rubbish at it now that I'm the older one.

"River, I knew that the Doctor wouldn't be able to come back for us. Don't you understand? I'm trying not to give away too much. But he didn't leave us behind. We left him. There was a decision to make, and you said -will say, I guess- 'never let him see the damage'. So… one of the things that made up my mind was that I realised that I could never have hidden it from him; that in the end, if I had taken the other possibility, he would have seen me hurting every day. And that would have hurt him far more than us just leaving ever would."

"But you can't be happy here!" River burst out, desperately clutching at straws. There had to be something to say, some way to convince them. "You're not in the right time or even the right place-"

"When we first got here," Rory said, "we thought about moving back to England. But it's been nine years, and we've made a life here. A better one than we had in Leadworth, if we're honest."

"We're happy, River." Amy smiled, squeezing her daughter's hands gently. "You know -or, you will know- that we're happy."

She liked to think of them being happy. But whenever she'd pictured them, it was 21st century Leadworth, living in a house with a bright blue door. Her parents, together, in a place she could visit whenever she chose to pop by with her husband in the TARDIS. Not in New York, displaced in location and time and unable to return. Not with them seeming so… different. So unlike the Amy and Rory that Mels had grown up with.

And not when she'd have to say good-bye.

"You don't even have your families…" she began, voice plaintive. But as she said it, she knew. It was never about their parents or their friends. It hadn't even been about her, as Mels or Melody. It was always about the two of them. When they were together, they didn't need anyone else.

"Never mind," she said dully, dropping her head in defeat. "I get it. I can't save you; or you won't let me. And you're alright with being here in New York because you're together, and you're happy." She said the last word as though it were something horrible, something dirty; and she could feel them flinch.

"It was my first time yesterday," she admitted. "Breaking out of Stormcage. And I wanted to come see you. I missed you."

"We miss you too," Rory said quietly, almost to himself. "All the time."

"And now I find out that I thought everything would be fine… I'm finally the River Song that you've always known, aren't I?" At Amy's nod, River took another breath, trying to find just the right words.

"Just when I thought everything would turn out correct for a change; it doesn't. Because I'm alone. Again. How many times can I lose the two of you, anyway?"

"You're not alone," Amy said immediately. She scooted her chair over, slinging an arm around River's shoulder. Something about that gesture was so… natural. As though she'd done it a thousand times before whenever she knew her daughter was upset; and River leaned toward her slightly, inhaling her familiar perfume and feeling her hearts unknot a little.

"You're forgetting about the Doctor," Amy continued. "You have us, and you have him… and you will never be alone, because we will always love you and be there for you."

She knew that Amy meant it to be comforting, but River could only see the tarnished side of the coin in that argument.

"Yes; the Doctor. I have him, don't I? Every night while I'm in prison, covering for a crime I didn't commit; I've got him, and never in the right order. And I have the two of you. In a place even the TARDIS can't go to." Her words were bitter, like acid; and she felt the tears starting to pool in her eyes.

She'd been so hopeful when she arrived. River Song was brave, and River Song could do anything. She had saved the Doctor and then fulfilled the date of his 'death'; even if the cost of all that had been her freedom. And she had thought -childishly, foolishly- that she could save her parents too. Save them from whatever this event was in her future and their past… except they didn't want to be saved, and there was nothing she could do. Nothing, except say good-bye.

"I have to go," she said, standing quickly and pulling away from Amy. "I just… I have to leave."

"No, River. Wait…" Rory was standing, reaching one hand out to push her gently back into her chair, but she dodged away, walking swiftly toward the door.

"I have to get back. The guard can't notice I'm gone." A lie, but one she knew they wouldn't know. The manipulator was much more precise than the TARDIS, and she knew she'd be capable of landing her within a seconds proximity to where she needed to go. It would be no problem now to stay away as long as she chose, and still be able to return to Stormcage whenever she wanted.

But this conversation was too much, and River squeezed her eyes shut tight as she walked to the door, not turning around until the very last moment.

"The stories you told me… I really thought the Doctor could do anything."

"A lot," Amy admitted. "He can do a lot. He can fix a lot. But he can't do everything. Time lines and paradox… he can't rip the world apart, and we wouldn't want him to."

"I really thought I could do anything. Fix things that even he couldn't…"

"You're our daughter," Rory said, pulling her into a tight embrace. Amy flung her arms around the both of them, and they stood, huddled, as a mass of three. "Maybe these are the words of a doting dad, but you could do anything."

"No," River said, breaking away from them and punching in coordinates on her manipulator. "Apparently I can't."