Hello! Easter present for you all! Yes, I know it's been like two months and I'm sorry. I don't have an excuse, I'm just really lazy and easily distracted. Thank you for the lovely reviews, favourites and follows. You're all brilliant and I love you!

*Doctor Who belongs to the Beebs*


Timelords, as I'm sure you already know, are a powerful species; often considered the most powerful, though usually by themselves. When they went to war with an equally powerful race, all hell almost literally broke loose. Imagine looking over a battlefield, the night air alight with explosions and regeneration energy, the fate of two races swaying in the balance as they fought for survival, for domination, for victory. It tore their worlds apart.

Now imagine being the last Timelord left, that lucky one that survived, that dominated, that came out victorious. Imagine spending your whole life running from those you left behind on the battlefield, those doomed to forever relive their final moments in a loop as their planet was destroyed, their screams still piercing in your ear drums. That horrid, dark, pressing guilt you feel when everything you seem to touch, every life you interfere in, wastes away and dies. Death would be a gift, no? A relief… but what if you couldn't die?

Immortality, one might think, is the greatest victory; victory over death. You'd never die; never see your life flash before your eyes. Never stop living, the greatest achievement. But what if no one else was immortal? What if you had to live with the thought that everyone you ever meet will die sooner or later. How would you give in, fall in love, build relationships, if you knew you'd someday be holding their lifeless body in your arms. Nobody lives forever, except you.

Now try to imagine accepting that fact; that everybody will die eventually, leaving you alone. Knowing and accepting that everyone's lives will someday slip through your fingers. Now imagine finding someone like you, someone else immortal, who you fall in love with. But the universe is cold and cruel and unforgiving and you've already seen them die. It breaks your hearts. Again.

Your life is lonely. Every hand you find to hold slips from your grip. But then you're given a chance. A slim chance. Another chance at a family. How would you feel? Hopeful? Or hopeless? Do remember that everything you touch seems to die, so why would this baby be any different? Your loved one is happy, giddy with excitement, full of hope. You hide your doubts behind a smile when she's looking, let your face fall into a frown when she's away.

Then imagine another factor thrown in, another chance at happiness; a Timelord. A full-blown, 100% Timelord from the planet you ripped to pieces all those centuries ago. And they forgive you. You can bet your regenerations that gives you hope, enough hope to pull you through this pregnancy because face it; this baby is half you. Half immortal. Half lonely god. Except this baby won't be lonely. It has two beings just like it, two hands to hold as it explores the universe. And that baby will explore if it's anything like you.

And if you ever find yourself feeling hopeless, you just duck home and curl up in bed, knowing you'll wake up to stormy green eyes and they'll just smile and say that one thing that somehow always manages to lighten the load on your hearts.

"Hello Sweetie."

"Good morning, Professor Song," the Doctor replied, tightening his arms around her slightly.

"What brings you to my bed so early in the morning?" Her flirtatious remark is met with a grin and a kiss buried in her curls.

"I do believe it's our bed."

"Says the one who sleeps in it once a month. Do you even own pyjamas?"

"Of course I… well no, I don't."

"Hah."

"Oh, shut up."

They lay in silence for several minutes, listening to the thrum of birdsong outside. There was another noise, a whistle that occasionally broke the trilling. The whistle would call and the birds would fall silent, listening to the simple tune before replying with songs of their own.

River pushed herself up on her elbows when she heard a man's laugh under the swell of warbles, an eyebrow pulling into an arch.

"It's only Hunter," the Doctor mumbled into the pillow, already dozing off again.

"Hunter? That man we met-"

"At Liz's palace, yes."

She relaxed back onto the pillow and smiled as he nuzzled into her neck. "Why exactly is Hunter here?"

"We ran into him in Egypt when we were visiting King Djedefre-"

"What, was he sent to kill him?"

"No, no, no. He said he was bored and future me told him to go there."

"Of course."

"Then we hopped into the TARDIS-."

"After you offended someone, I'm guessing."

"What? No, of course not!" River looked back at him with a raised eyebrow and he sighed. "Okay, maybe I did."

"Can't you go anywhere without making enemies?"

"I don't try to."

"I'm sure you don't, my love. You're just easy to dislike when you're showing off."

He made a rather grumbly noise in the back of his throat and her smile widened.

"You're words are highly offensive today," he said moodily, poking her cheek with his nose.

"I think I have the right to be insulting after you left me for a month."

He winced, pressing his forehead to hers as he squeezed his eyes shut. "I thought I was getting better at this."

She reached a hand up to cup his cheek and he let out a sigh, the gust of his breath warming her face.

"I'm sorry, River. I really am."

"It's going to take a long time for me to forgive you," she said sternly, but there was a smile on her lips.

"Will begging help?"

"Oh, always with you, sweetie."

His face stretched into a smirk as he replied. "Please, please, please find it in your heart to forgive me, River dear."

"I'll see what I can do."

They return to their comfortable silence, listening once again to the call of birds outside, the song occasionally broken by Hunter's laughter and Nebula's whistles. River can feel the Doctor dozing off as she strokes a lazy finger along his jaw, repetitively tracing the line of his cheekbone with her thumb. It must have been a very long time since he last slept for him to fall asleep in her arms and she wonders silently at what adventures her two Timelords have gotten up to.

While she doesn't mind being left at home too much, she does mind the large spaces of time between her husband's visits. Nebula stays home quite often, showing a slight preference to reading and talking to River over running and getting shot at. The same couldn't be said about her husband, of course. He's barely able to stay for dinner, let alone several weeks.

She slowly untangles her limbs from his after what feels like half an hour, climbing out from beneath the sheets, careful not to jostle the bed as she places her feet on the floor. She hisses slightly at the cold, reached for a rather fluffy dressing gown as she heads for the door. The Doctor mumbles her name in his sleep and she pauses, bending over slightly to brush his hair back off his face and press a kiss to his forehead.

She takes the stairs slowly, one hand on the railing and the other on her swollen belly. The house seems to have taken on a rather Christmas-y feel overnight, what with the tinsel and wreaths hanging off everything, the overload of fairy lights strung across the walls blinking a steady staccato of holiday cheer.

She pads into the kitchen and walks towards the back door, turning the kettle on as she passes. It snowed last night and it takes her a moment to pick out the huddled forms of Nebula and Hunter amongst the glittering white, Nebula's head thrown back as she whistles. Hunter's lying on his back, his hands under his head, his eyes more focused on Nebula than the multitude of birds soaring above their heads. The sight pulls River face into a smile.

Nebula must have sensed she was there (Probably with that weird mind link thing that Timelords have. River's signal is apparently very weak but they can still sense her) and she turns slightly, throwing a grin over her shoulder. Hunter looks back too and he waves, though his smile seems slightly strained at the sight of her. He's older than the last time they met, maybe early thirties. His cheekbones are more defined, his jawline shaded with a two-day stubble, and his eyes are heavier. Sadder, even. It makes her turn away.

Hunter's sadness doesn't bode well for the future.

She busies herself in making tea, pulling out four mugs before glancing back out the door to see Hunter disappear in a crackle of electricity. She places the fourth mug back.

"Where's he off to?" she asks after Nebula shuts the door behind her. She grabs the milk and sidles up alongside River, pouring into two of the mugs and leaving the other black.

"His own time, I'm guessing. He didn't really say."

"Hmm."

They move around each other quietly, grabbing things for breakfast preparations. Nebula crams as much bread as she can in the toaster before turning back to River, leaning against the counter as her face fell into a frown.

"He was older than every other Hunter the Doctor and I have seen."

"You see him often?"

"We run into him every now and then."

"I've only ever met him once," she said, pulling a carton of eggs from the fridge. "And he definitely wasn't that sad."

Nebula nodded in agreement, before her face considerably brightened. "Merry Christmas Eve-morning, by the way."

The sound of cooking food seemed to reach the Doctor and he wandered down the hallway, rubbing a fist against his eye as he yawned.

"Oh good, you finally had a nap," Nebula remarked amusedly, spinning around River as she placed three plates on the tartan tablecloth. "You were starting to get crabby."

"You make it sound like I'm a grumpy old man," he huffed, ruffling her hair as he grabs his mug from the counter. She batted him away with a spatula.

"You are a grumpy old man."

"Doesn't mean I like admitting it."

"I see you two had fun with the decorations," River remarked, taking a seat in the chair her husband pulled out for her.

"Well, it is Christmas tomorrow."

"And the house was dangerously lacking in holiday cheer."

River smiled into her tea. Nebula turned off the frying pan, scraping a serving of eggs onto the three plates, turning to grab the toast out of the toaster before sitting down.

They talked as they ate, the Doctor giddily recounting their visit to the third moon of Garthrex where the sky was green and the grass was blue and the strange gravity made it rain upwards. Nebula laughed through her own tale, a story of how the two of them accidently shop-lifted from a market stall on Throwannah and the overweight store owner chased them down several streets, his many chins wobbling hilariously as he yelled. They shared stories about Hunter and River rolled her eyes at their insistence that he was just like her, from his green eyes to his insistence with flirting his way through every situation.

The conversation drifted towards more everyday things and the question of how far along she was in her pregnancy came up.

"35 weeks." Nebula dropped her toast and the Doctor choked into his tea. They both stared at her in shock, their eyes moving from her face to her stomach and back to her face again. River would have thought it comical if a tremor of fear wasn't running up her spine.

"A bit over 8 months?" Nebula asked as she bent to retrieve her toast from the floor, her voice several octaves higher than usual.

"Yes, that's about right. Is… is something wrong?"

The two Timelords exchanged a look before the Doctor carefully placed his mug back on the table with a shaking hand. "The average human pregnancy lasts 38-42 weeks…"

"And?"

"Timebabies are slightly more eager to get out into the world, dear. The average Timelord pregnancy lasts 30-33 weeks, so…"

"I'm late," River finished with a fearful expression.

"The baby is part human, dear," he reminded, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. "He might be a bit later than normal."

"But what if something's wrong with him?" she asked, worried tears pricking her eyelids. "We can't go find a Timelord doctor to check."

"There's nothing wrong with him, River," Nebula insisted, her eyebrows pinching together in concern. "You'd know if there was. Maternal instincts or whatever."

"What about Hunter? He was sad when he looked at me. What if it's because he knows what happens to the baby?"

"I doubt he was sad about that," the Doctor muttered, his voice barely loud enough to be heard. He looked up, the sadness in his eyes almost crushing before it faded quickly, noticing the two woman's stares. He smiled before saying slowly, "The baby's fine, River. You have nothing to worry about. He's just a few weeks late, that's all."

She opened her mouth to voice more of her doubts but he shushed her, pulling her into his arms. She rubbed her face against the tweed of his jacket, the familiar scratch against her skin enough to calm her down.

River ignored the sounds of Nebula cleaning up the kitchen and focused on the rise and fall of the Doctor's chest beneath her hand. She felt him pull her knees up as he stood, holding her in his arms as he made his way into the living room. He sat down with a small sigh, carefully arranging his limbs around River's body as she curled into his front.

"You're oddly quiet today," she murmured and he huffed slightly. "You haven't started babbling once."

"I don't babble." He frowned at her questioning eyebrow. "Okay, maybe I do."

"I know you do."

He doesn't reply, just continues absentmindedly rubbing circles into her stomach, a smile perking his lips as a small something nudges back.

"See, dear? He's fine. He's probably just enjoying himself too much on that planet you've gone and swallowed."

She snorts, her hand moving to lay over his.

Nebula ambles back downstairs after several hours, the many books of the library no longer holding her interest. She tosses a glance into the living room to see the Doctor and River talking quietly, their bodies a tangle of limbs on the lounge. She smiles, ducking into the kitchen to grab an apple before sitting down on the coffee table in front of the couple.

"We should go somewhere."

"Where exactly?" River questions, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Anywhere," is the Doctor's typical reply and he jumps up, gently pulling River with him. "How about Habadoes where the people are made of glass? Or the twelfth moon of Bernin where everything is blue. Though, we could pay Mozart a visit, haven't seen him in a decade or four. I hear the weather's nice this time of year on Veran, if you call raining for only twenty-three hours of the day nice."

He's babbling again and River smiles, following the pair at her own pace as he practically bounced through the TARDIS doors. She patted the door as she stepped inside, the time machine humming in greeting.

They end up landing on a forest-covered planet, soaring heather-coloured mountains reaching up to the stars, the land swathed in snow. The silence is almost suffocating, only broken by the hoot of an owl or the crunch of earth under the hooves of reindeers, their silhouettes weaving in between the tree trunks. The TARDIS is parked on a high cliff top, the wind whispering around them, tugging hair and flicking coats as they look over the land before them. River's shiver accompanies the vague realisation that she's still in her pyjamas.

Snow begins to fall in large, perfect flakes, large enough that she can see their individual patterns before they hit the ground at her feet. Nebula reaches out a hand, a snowflake landing on her palm before melting against her heat. She hums softly; a song River doesn't recognise but seems to make the Doctor happy. His smile is wide, that goofy sort of grin that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

The stars are bright, dusting the dark sky with their sparkle. The planets has three moons and they all shine in varying shades of orange, like a Harvest Moon on Earth, bathing the land in their eerie glow. It's impossibly beautiful.

They spend the next few hours enjoying the night time. Nebula climbs a tree, continuing to hum her song as she goes. The Doctor and River sit on the cold ground after he gives her his coat to wear. He points out constellations and stars and planets he's been to where he's saved someone or other in one of his visits. She listens to the Doctor and Nebula exchange words in Gallifreyan, a hand on her stomach, the baby nudging her every time they talk. The reindeer move closer and closer as they graze on the soft grass that peaks out of the frost covering the earth, raising curious eyes to the strangers. It's peaceful and quiet, the steady silence comforting.

The tranquillity is disturbed, however, when what River thinks is just another nudge from the baby turns into a sharp pain that makes her double over, a sharp breath escaping her lips. She would have laughed at Nebula and the Doctor's identical expressions of shock if a harsh whip of fear didn't curl through her spine.

"River?" her husband barely managed to get out. "The- the baby?

"Yes, you idiot," she hissed. "Of course it's the baby."

He gulped, jumping into action as Nebula dropped slightly less than gracefully from the tree. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and under her knees, lifting her up and pulling her close to his chest.

"I can walk," she muttered indignantly and he shushed her, gesturing to Nebula to open the door.

They rush up the stairs, the Doctor trying his hardest not to jostle her as he takes them two at a time. Nebula leads the way down the corridor, taking two lefts, a right then a left again until they end up in a plain white room that's empty except for the large bed in the centre. He presses a kiss to her forehead when she groans again before placing her as carefully as he can onto the covers. Once he sees that she's comfortable he's back to his usual gangly, awkward self as he spins around the room slightly, running a hand through his hair. He adjusts his bowties, his expression grim.

"Alright, Nebula. We're going to deliver a baby."

"What?" both women say at the same time and he waves their concerns down.

"You don't bloody know how to deliver a baby," Nebula hisses and he turns to glare.

"And you're no midwife. Equal grounds!"

"We can't."

"Come on, Nebs, believe in yourself and whatever other rubbish people spout these days."

"You're hopeless. You couldn't tell an umbilical cord from an elbow."

"Hey! You think I haven't been researching?"

"You know what to do?"

"In theory."

"Oh for god's sake, just get it over with!" River spits at the bickering pair when another shard of pain spears through her. "I don't care if you have to cut me open with a rusty knife, just get the baby out of me!"

Identical winces are exchanged before the two Timelords quite literally jump into action. It's a quick delivery and I won't dwell on the gory bits. It's a boy, just like River predicted, his two hearts sounding with a healthy four tone beat. After a quick scan from the TARDIS they identify him as being mostly Timelord, the rest all human. A quiet falls over them as River curls up by her husband's side and he pecks a kiss to the top of her head.

The silence is broken, however, when a clock chimes somewhere deep in the TARDIS. The baby's eyes fly open and he stares up at the smiling face of his father, startled by the sudden noise.

"Merry Christmas," Nebula says quietly from her cross-legged perch on the end of the bed after the clock's twelfth and final gong. The Doctor's eyes swing up at her words, his brow furrowing as several things in his head click into place. He glances down at his son in his arms as the baby stares back, his sleepy green eyes the same colour as River's. His wife runs a hand through her son's hair, gently ruffling his dark brown curls.

And when River murmurs a sleepy "What should we name him?" he blinks, a smile of giddy understanding spreading across his face.

"Hunter," he replies. "Hunter Kazran Song."


Woohoo! I know you've all probably guessed who Hunter was before now, I wasn't very sneaky about it.

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