Alright! Hello again peoples! So this is basically an apology chapter for all of the times I took too long to update and for those chapters that take a while in the future. It's longer and I posted very quickly so here it is :) the long awaited showdown between James and River is here, along with more background on Mr. Boots' past! So please enjoy and review, comment or critique :) I look forward to hearing from you all! Anyone who knew how Agora was significant before I revealed it in this chapter is also awesome. :P

"Sweetie, we got news from Jack," River said as she walked around to the opposite end of the TARDIS console.

The Doctor looked at her in surprise. "Oh? What did he have to say?"

"He said he knows who Mr. Boots really is," she said, although the tone of her voice revealed that she was not convinced. "He said his real name is Roan Staggem. From Agora in the Centraxis system."

"Agora, really?" James asked. "We had a friend from that planet!"

"Oh, yes, Grant Markham! Impossible to forget Grant. Helped me save his planet from Cybermen. It was an agricultural planet at the time. May still be."

"Wait, wait, a hit-man from a farm planet?" Rory asked.

"Doesn't sound very probable, now does it?" the Doctor said, working on the computer above the console. "But look at this! He had other family. An aunt and uncle. Marvis' older sister and her husband took care of him for the short time that he was there. Mr. And Mrs. Marla and Howard Calla. Right then. Let's go pop in for a visit, eh?" the Doctor said, as he circled the TARDIS console, flipping switches and levers and pressing buttons and generally looking like he was playing a very bizarre arcade game.

River took a seat, Amy and Rory following her example. James, however, (being more or less the Doctor but not really) went to the other side of the console and helped the Doctor pilot her to the Centraxis system.

They arrived shortly in front of the Calla house and not seconds after the Doctor took his first steps out the door did the elderly Calla couple come shuffing out of their house, looking as though a carnival had just appeared in their tenderly cared-for garden.

Mr. Calla got to the Doctor first, cornering him in front of the TARDIS and preventing everyone else from getting out. He was grinning from ear-to-ear and was waving at his wife to hurry along.

"Hurry, hurry, Marla! It's the Doctor! Do you see? It's really him! Quick!" the old man said excitedly, then turned and beamed at the Doctor, taking his hand and shaking it rigorously. "Oh, Doctor, it is good to finally see you! We were afraid you would never come!"

The Doctor, looking quite perplexed at this point, could do little but try to pry his hand out of the old man's surprisingly strong grip. "Yes... um, well, I get busy sometimes. And hello to you, too. You've been expecting me?"

Mrs. Calla finally made her way to the Doctor, smiling with relief at him. "Oh, yes. Quite a while now. Almost twenty years now! Come in, please, all of you," she said, addressing the four people peaking out of the TARDIS door, "I'll put on a pot of tea."

"Sounds lovely! Oh, these are my friends, Rory and Amy Pond right there in the front, and then the two in the back are Doctor River Song and Doctor James Smith. He's James Smith and she's River Song, in case you got confused. Now, how about that tea?"

Mrs. Calla beamed, linked arms with the Doctor, and began to slowly lead him inside, her old bones not allowing her to get very far very quickly, but the Doctor seemed patient enough with this, just smiling at her as they walked inside.

Their house was old, that was evident just by looking at it. And rustic. There was not a single electronic in sight and every piece of furniture and decoration appeared to be handmade, and quite exquisite. The Doctor eyed a rather fine wooden clock on the mantle above the fireplace, inspecting it closely.

"Ah, you've picked out my favorite piece of work, Doctor," Mr. Calla said, wearily plopping himself down on a worn recliner.

"You made this?" the Doctor asked. "It's quite good."

"Thank you," Mr. Calla said gratefully, watching as everyone took a seat on one of the three living room sofas, which sat in front of a beautiful brick fireplace.

"Oh, Howard, don't sit down yet!" Mrs. Calla called from the kitchen as she began putting a kettle over an open fire, preparing the tea for her guests. "Go get the post cards and pictures!"

Mr. Calla sighed tiredly, then pushed himself up off of his recliner, groaning a little as his old joints protested. Fully standing, he then left the room, disappearing into a hallway. After a few minutes, he returned carrying a small box, cradling it to his chest lovingly. He walked straight up to the Doctor and handed him the box.

Mrs. Calla ran into the room as fast as her feeble legs could carry her, looking as excited as ever. "Doctor, will you sign those for us, please?"

"It would please our nephew greatly," Mr. Calla added, looking from the Doctor to the box.

"Yes, your nephew, Roan Staggem, am I right?"

"That's him. Have you seen him?" Mr. Calla asked, the tone of his voice raising with worry.

The Doctor began sorting through the box of papers and post cards, ignoring the pencil that had been set on the top so that he could sign them. "Yes, I have. That's why I'm here, Mr. Calla. I've got some questions for you, so I'll tell you what, while I sign this... trash... you can answer my questions, alright? Good!" he said, then plopped himself down in between Rory and Amy on the middle couch, effectively squishing all three of them uncomfortably together. He then pulled out the pencil and began writing his name on the various child-drawings, pictures, little wooden TARDIS carvings, and post cards ranging from all over the universe, the dates on each varying drastically from one another.

"So, tell me, Mr. Calla, what happened to Roan's parents?"

Mr. Calla, who had resumed his seat on the recliner, looked up at him and froze and Mrs. Calla, who was just coming into the room carrying a tray with several cups of tea, stopped as well, swallowing.

The Doctor, who had begun busying himself with the autographs, looked up at the sudden silence, glanced around the room confusedly, then looked at River. "Was that a bit harsh?"

River smiled. "A bit, sweetie. Next time, a little decorum will go over nicely."

"Oh. Well, I still want to know," the Doctor said.

Mr. Calla looked down at the floor. "Honestly, Doctor... we're not sure."

Mrs. Calla, looking mournful, handed everyone a cup of tea, then went into the kitchen to grab herself a chair. James, seeing this, stood from his seat across from Mr. Calla, grabbed one of the kitchen chairs, and quietly offered his old seat to her. She smiled gratefully and both of them settled into the living room silently.

"Surely you know something," the Doctor said. "Any little detail would help."

Mr. Calla frowned deeply. "They were in the middle of a crowded street, Doctor. We were going to meet them for dinner... I saw it with my own two eyes," he said, his old eyes suddenly becoming haunted, "They were standing right there, and then suddenly they were gone. Just a bit of dust where they had been standing."

"It was awful," Mrs. Calla muttered, tears coming to her eyes. "No one knew what happened. There must have been dozens of people out, but no one saw anything."

Mr. Calla cleared his throat and shifted a little uncomfortably. "Well... Roan said he did."

"What did he see?" Amy asked, sitting up in her, eyes focused on Mr. Calla as she listened intently.

Mr. Calla rubbed his eyes as though it were difficult to say. "He said he saw an alien."

"Well, that narrows it down to pretty much anything in the universe. I need more than that. What kind of alien?" the Doctor asked impatiently, already halfway down with the box he had been given.

"He said it was wrinkled, with deep-set eyes and no mouth. He said that there was a flash of blue light... and his parents disintegrated."

"Did you believe him?"

Mr. Calla hesitated. "I... I don't really know what I believed, or still believe, about that day," he answered, watching the Doctor as he pulled out one of the post cards and stared at it.

"We just knew that he was mourning; same as us," Mrs. Calla said, "He was given to us in the will, so we brought him here." She stopped, looking down sadly. "He didn't stay for very long. Left within a year."

"Can I see his room, Mrs. Calla?" James asked.

Mrs. Calla looked at him, stared for a second, as though she hadn't noticed him earlier (likely she hadn't given the couple had been focused so intently on the Doctor).

"Are you both-" she started.

"Oh, no, I'm Doctor 2.0. Half Doctor, really. Bit hard to explain, but definitely not the Doctor. Moving on. Can I see it?"

Mrs. Calla looked incredibly confused, but gave a short nod.

"I'd like to have a look as well, if that's alright with you, Mrs. Calla," River said.

James glanced at her suspiciously, but didn't protest.

"Of course," Mrs. Calla said, leading the two of them out and down the hall.

Mr. Calla watched them leave, then looked at the Doctor, who was still examining the same postcard as he had been earlier.

"Doctor, what is it?" Amy asked, noticing him as well.

"Mr. Calla, are any of these post cards recent?" the Doctor asked.

"Very," Mr. Calla replied. "Roan sends them to us every few weeks. It's how we know he's alive out there somewhere."

"How recently did you get this one?" the Doctor asked, handing Mr. Calla the postcard. He in turn examined it, then smiled, reminiscent, then handed it back to him. "This one is much older. He sent it to us two or three years after he left. Why? Is it significant?"

"Most definitely," the Doctor replied, taking it and looking at it again with a look of dread. "May I borrow this?"

Mr. Calla nodded his consent.

"What is it, Doctor?" Amy asked, leaning over his shoulder to get a good look at it, but the Doctor quickly folded turned it and put it into his pocket beside the sonic screwdriver. He looked at her and smiled.

"It's nothing. I'll tell you later," the Doctor said reassuringly, patting her thigh.

She frowned at him. "Why won't you let me see it?"

"It's not important," the Doctor said dismissively, then leaned forward towards Mr. Calla, setting the box aside. "Now, Mr. Calla, may I ask what Mr. And Mrs. Staggem did for a living?"

Mr. Calla shrugged. "We were never quite sure. They traveled a lot."

"Traveled where?"

"Off-planet," Mr. Calla answered. "When they did, Roan would come stay with us. Sometimes only one of them would leave, so Roan could stay home. Marla and I asked them numerous times what their work was and even asked them to stay... for Roan's sake. But they wouldn't listen."

"Do you have a picture of either of them by chance? I can't seem to find one anywhere," the Doctor said.

Mr. Calla immediately shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Whatever their work entailed, they weren't allowed to take photographs."

The Doctor nodded. That probably explained why there weren't pictures of Mr. Boots either. No reason to take a picture if none of the rest of his family would. The Doctor drummed the pencil against his chin, letting all of the pieces fall together in his mind. "Very interesting."

River and James followed Mrs. Calla to the very back room, stepping inside as she opened the door for them. She stood in the doorway as they both looked around.

James' brow raised in surprise. Considering the rest of the house, finding all of the electronics scattered around the room was an unexpected find. Tiny blinking red, green, blue and yellow lights were scattered over the room amongst the various piles of what on first glance might look like junk; to James it was virtually a treasure trove of electronic goodies.

He crossed the room, picking up several and examining them. He began to reach into his pocket to scan them with his sonic screwdriver, then stopped, remembering that they had been forced to leave it at the Shadow Proclamation. Frowning deeply with regret (as he had really loved and missed that coat), he decided to just press buttons until he figured out what did what.

"He was a genius," Mrs. Calla said. "Built everything you see from scratch. Not much in the way of technology here."

"I know, I've been here before," James said distractedly as he went from a rudimentary gravitron to preliminary sketches, diagrams and blueprints for a teleport, the design of which looked similar to a Vortex Manipulator, if a little bulkier. "This is all very advanced stuff, here."

"Very," River said, looking through a draw filled with little gadgets and gizmos, all of which were fully functional. "How long have these all been running?"

"Since Roan left. About twenty years," Mrs. Calla said.

"That's impressive," River commented, looking at some of the other items and decorations in the room. On one wall were dozens of cut-out photos the Doctor's various faces, along with a few child-hood drawings of the TARDIS, the Doctor and even his companions. Along with these were his own designs and blueprints for the TARDIS and sonic screwdriver, although all of them were poor and only theoretical. On the windowsill beside the bed was a small, wooden TARDIS replica, which had likely been carved by his uncle. She looked at these with a mixed feelings. Mr. Boots had been a very big fan of the Doctor in his youth (one who had done his research) ... so what had changed?

"What energy source was he using?" James asked.

Mrs. Calla shrugged. "I don't know. All of this... science stuff was beyond Howard and me."

"Howard and I," James corrected, though his focus remained on the room.

River rolled up a piece of paper and smacked him on the head with it.

James flinched in surprise. "Ow! Oi!"

"Be nice," River said, then smiled at Mrs. Calla.

Mrs. Calla smiled forgivingly, then suddenly looked very alarmed. "Oh, dear me, I forgot the cookies! Please, help yourselves to continue looking around," she said, then scooted off down the hall.

River watched her go, then looked over at James, who had gotten down on all fours to look under the bed.

"Oh, hello," he said, then reached beneath, pulling open a loosened floor board. "What have we here?" Slowly, he pulled out a metal box, then sat and opened it open.

"What's in it?" River asked, watching him sort through it.

He looked up at her, then blinked, eyes suddenly unfocused. "Um... I don't... remember." He looked down at the box again, then up at River, the same, lost expression coming over his face every time he looked at the box.

"James, look inside again, and without looking away, describe what you see."

James nodded, looked down at the box again. "I see a Silence. Walking outside in the Calla's garden. There are more pictures here. Now, let's see, let's see, what have you got to tell me?" he said, going through each and describing them. All of them were just pictures of Silence walking in different areas, standing in the shadows and even talking to people as they weaved their subconscious orders to the people's psyches, except for one. When James got to it, James froze at the sight of it.

"What is it?" River asked.

"Um... the last picture. It's a dead Silence. In this room, right where I'm sitting. It was killed, um, pretty brutally."

"How so?"

"Well, there's a gunshot wound in its head and its been stabbed quite a few times in the chest and abdomen. I haven't seen anything this... malicious, in a very long time."

"Shot and stabbed?"

"Looks like it. And he probably used this knife and gun," he said, taking out the two objects and handing them to River. Once he looked away from the box, the same look came over his eyes again and he blinked a few times at the two objects in his hands. "Did those come from the box?"

River nodded, taking them from him and examining them. "I told you not to look away from the box, dear."- James just rolled his eyes -"This is a homemade plasma gun. This knife is hand-crafted, too. Probably a gift from his uncle," River said, then handed the weapons back to James, who put them back in the metal box. "Put that box in your pocket, James."

"Yes, I've got it, thank you. I'm a big boy, in case you hadn't noticed," he groused irritably, closing it, then depositing it into his suit jacket pocket (which was also bigger on the inside). He then stood, his expression immediately switching from annoyed to excited, scratching his ear as he thought. "Alright, so we have pictures of Silence- including a dead one that was very likely killed by Mr. Boots in this very room- and pair of missing or dead parents whose son is a giant fan of the Doctor. Conclusion? No idea," he said, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets and swaying on his heels as he scanned over the room one last time with his eyes.

River watched him, watched his mannerisms that were so Doctor, his eyes that were practically alight with child-like excitement. His eyes were the eyes of one who was ancient, and yet they glinted with the curious excitement of a child.

"James..."

James looked at her, his smile slowly fading and now looking a little nervous. "What?"

River wasted no time in getting to her point, looking at him severely. "Why did you come here?

James blinked at her in confusion. "What are you-"

"You're smart, James. I know because you are- more or less- the Doctor. You had to have known Mr. Boots was up to no good when he came for you, so why would you leave with him?"

"I didn't-"

"Don't," she snapped, raising a finger to him. "Don't lie to me. The Doctor may believe that you were the victim of a clever plot, but I'm not that easy. You're too smart for a con that simple. I know you and if I'm going to help you get back-"

At those words, James' confused expression changed abruptly again to one of anger and he interrupted her with a snap. "No. No, you don't know me. I'm not your Doctor. I never was. And don't you pretend for one second that you're my ally," he said, taking an intimidating step closer to her, though she did not budge. He leaned in close so that they were face to face, so that she could see his anger, "I know what you think of me, River Song. I know that you've been struggling with whether or not to dispose of me when the Doctor isn't looking," he said, standing up to his full height and leaning in close, his tone scathing and vindictive. "Because you're not just an archeologist. I read the Doctor's journal. I know what you are. I know you would kill if you thought the Doctor was in danger. So don't. In fact, why don't we meet each halfway and stop lying to each other? Go ahead, River. Tell me what you think of me," he said, opening his arms in a have-at-me gesture.

River's resolve did not falter, not did she seem in the least bit frightened or alarmed at his rage, as would most others. She stood tall as she looked him straight in the eye and said, "Fine. I don't trust you. I think you knew exactly what was going to happen when you came over here, and you did it anyway. I think all of those prophecies about the right hand of the Doctor are true, and they're talking about you. I think you're dangerous; too dangerous to be left alone to your own devices. And most importantly," she said severely, her eyes cutting and dangerous, "I think your endgame could get the Doctor killed. And that, James, puts you and I at odds."

James glared at her. Oh, the irony of it. He would be the death of the Doctor? He wasn't the one who was slowly breaking his hearts, day after day.

He nodded at her, having heard exactly what he had expected, although he wasn't sure what prophecies she was talking about. "I thought so. Now, let me be clear, River Song; I may not be the Doctor, I may have done a terrible, unforgivable thing, but I'll be damned if my intentions are questioned."

"I'm not questioning your intentions, James," River said. "I'm questioning you. What you are. Your instincts and emotions. You're vengeful and angry. Don't believe me? Have a look in the mirror."

James glowered at her, but felt his own anger burning from within his belly, and took a few deep breaths, until he felt himself calming down. He then looked at her evenly. "I don't know why you think I had some alterior motives for coming here, River," he said, his voice slowly becoming calmer. "Because it wasn't easy to come here, to face the Doctor, who hated me as much or maybe even more than you do. You think he's forgiven me? Well, that's easy enough for you to believe. He's not watching your every move. He's not waiting for you to mess up. Amy and Rory are the only people that don't make me feel like any second i'm going to go on a murder spree. So please, spare me the extra contempt. I'm more than capable of hating and fearing myself for the both of us," he said, and his voice faltered at these last words and he swallowed, closing his eyes in shame. His hearts suddenly hurt and he found himself thinking about Rose and the Tyler's; somehow or another, he had disappointed all of them, had . He shouldn't feel so surprised that River distrusted him and even hated him. Everything he had done as the Doctor, everything he had done after that, the Tyler's expecting him to be someone he wasn't, the Doctor hating and distrusting him, and now River, it shouldn't come as such a painful discover.

River stared at him for a long time and James again couldn't read her. It didn't really matter, anyway. Swallowing again and licking his lips, he turned to leave, but she grabbed him by the arm, stopping him.

He stopped, not looking at her. "Please let go."

"Why did you leave?" she asked again.

His hearts ached even more and he dropped his head in shame. "Because... because you're right. I'm angry and I don't know why and I'm... I'm lost... and if anyone could forgive me for what I've done... what I am... surely the Doctor would. If he can't... then how can I?"

River looked at him severely, just staring at him, though he would not return her gaze.

"River, please let go of my arm," he asked, barely above a whisper.

She didn't let go, but instead grabbed his other arm and turned him around slowly. "James. Listen to me," she said.

He looked at her, nervously, expecting another attack on him. Expecting her to tell him to go back and never return. Anything but what she said.

"I do know you. I just wasn't sure yet. I'm sorry if I hurt you, but I needed to be sure."

"Sure of what?"

"That you weren't the Valeyard."

"That's why you've been so cold to me?"

She nodded. "And I'm sorry, but I needed to know. For the Doctor's sake. There are prophecies that sound like they might be talking about you, but talking to you now, being able to reason with you despite your anger, it gives me confidence that they aren't," she said, then smiled at him. "Because you're a good man. Like the Doctor."

He smiled.

"Deny it all you want, but you're a good man," she said, smiling playfully. "Now, come on. Let's go tell your father what we found."

James grimaced in repulse. "Oh, PLEASE don't call him my father!" he pleaded, and followed behind her back to the living room, suddenly feeling a little lighter.