"So. You got to be inside my mind. Did it meet your expectations?" River asked lightly, turning away from the Doctor as she pulled her shirt back on to hide her anxious expression from him. He waited semi-patiently for her to face him, taking the time to slip into his trouser and his shirt; he had buttoned the shirt halfway up when she glanced at him. He spoke carefully, abandoning the shirt as he tried to express coherently an experience that surpassed language.
"It was you on such a deep level, so very you, more you than even you know. It was a lifetime of secrets and vulnerabilities, all the looks you give the world when you think no one is watching. It was your incredible bravery in the face of everything, your persistence and your quiet fortitude. It was your warmth and the way you take care of people, of me, of Amy and Rory. But River, have you ever even wondered who takes care of you?" He paused, stepping closer to her.
"The answer is quite simple, really, and I hope you'll believe it now. Me," The Doctor finished with a smile, stuffing his hands in his pockets and bouncing on the balls of his feet.
"You love me." It wasn't a question, yet River still sounded unsure of herself.
"Yes," The Doctor agreed without hesitation.
"I could feel it. I was dreaming, and then you were there, and I could taste what you felt for me. It wove itself into the structure of my mind, melded with the dreamscape, almost as if..."
"Almost as if it were alive," The Doctor finished softly. "River, our story, it's happening all across time. As one of ours ends, the other's starts. It's a paradox, an endless paradox. We're special, you and I. We're both time travelers, we're both Time Lords, or in your case human plus Time Lord. Both entirely unique in the universe. We exist outside of time. What I feel for you, it echoes through the stars, calling at the beginning and the end of time, seeing the universe through from its inception to its obliteration. Beyond everything, before and after time and space, there is you and me. And I'm not going to ask you for your future or your love, I can't, I won't. But mine are yours regardless." He halted again, and he blushed, as if his brain had caught up with his mouth. Still, he forged ahead, tugging River into a careful embrace.
"I know you blame me," he whispered, his mouth at her ear and his hands settling over her back soothingly as she started to protest. "And I know you feel guilty. Maybe we don't deserve each other, and maybe we do, but love isn't fair, River. We've made mistakes, and we'll make more. Between the two of us, we've amassed enough guilt to feed legions of Monsgriths, which are, er, blind, grey canines that prey on people's guilt. Anyway.
"We mustn't let the anger, and the blame, and the guilt, and the other swirly, murky feelings overshadow everything else. We make our own choices, River. I mean, there may be a few events that are just a tad fixed, but your mind is gorgeous and very much your own." The Doctor took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut and allowing himself a moment to simply breathe in the safe, alive, healthy, courageous woman pressed against him.
"I didn't protect your mother as well as I should have. I didn't find you in time, although that, that's more complicated. You're allowed to be angry, River, and you're allowed to blame me. But I swear to you, I will always come when you call, and if you ever decide that it'll be funny and clever and sexy to, say, jump out of spaceship, I'll be there to catch you." River understood how serious the Doctor was being, but she couldn't quite suppress a chuckle. She tucked her face into the Doctor's shoulder in a a vain attempt to muffle her giggles. Her fingers clutched at the nape of his neck, her broad smile pressed against his shoulder, her body shaking with laughter.
"Oh, Sweetie," she managed breathlessly, "I think we'll be just fine."
"More than fine, Song," the Doctor grinned, pulling back to beam at her, relieved that she was so radiant, even if he was a bit miffed at being laughed at. "There'll be running - so much running - and you'll shoot things, and we'll go dancing, and you'll fly the TARDIS, and God you're beautiful and brilliant and brave. Ssh, mouth, ssh!" River collapsed into another bout of laughter at the Doctor's dismay at his own rambling, though this time she pressed soft kisses to his neck to quiet him. His words were cut off in a surprised squeak, his hand flexing on her waist, but he didn't push her away.
"I can't wait for all of it," River breathed against his collar bone, a half-smile still pulling at the corners of her mouth. The Doctor swallowed, pain and love constricting his chest in equal measure. She had all of that ahead of her, while he had to find his precious days when and where he still could. The vibrant, battle-ready beauty that was his wife was nearly gone from his life now, leaving him with a heartbreaking treasure trove of memories that would both haunt and sustain him for the remainder of his days. Days, he mused bitterly, that River would never see, could never be a part of. And she deserves so much more, he thought with a surge of anger. His fingers pressed into her lower back, the weight of her against him serving to ground him somewhat. She is here now, she is alive and breathing she made me promise. And I won't, I won't re-write even so much as a line of our time. She must chose her own way, and whatever pain it brings her, I cannot...Cannot take away that choice from her. Not when she has at last found her freedom. Whatever else she has, I will fight for her to keep that.
He was late. The sad part, River mused, is that I'm not even surprised. Gods help me, I find it endearing. A week, it had been, since the Doctor had left her last Tuesday morning, with a kiss that was precious in its rarity pressed into her sleepy curls. Next Tuesday morning, he had promised her. Seven days only, an inconceivably short amount of time for this particular couple - merely an instant in time compared to the weeks, months, years that River would spend waiting for him. But that was still in her future, and today, she was impatient, and he was late.
River was seated on her kitchen counter, aimlessly swinging her legs back and forth, The History of the Miner's Revolution of Pyth resting on her lap, open to the beginning of Chapter 11. Her obstreperous curls were pulled back from her face with a red scrunchie that had seen better days, its elasticity nearly shot. Determined not to sit around doing nothing while she waited for her...The Doctor, River was actually quite engrossed in the horrid conditions that had led the miners to revolt on the planet Pyth, when she heard the familiar vworgh vworgh of the TARDIS materializing. Despite herself, a smile tugged at her lips; she finished the sentence she was reading, carefully bookmarked her page, and set the tome aside.
"Hi, Honey, I'm home!" the Doctor called loudly as he tripped excitedly through River's front door. He skidded to a halt in the kitchen doorway, casually lounging against the frame in an attempt to appear suave. River muffled her laughter, and schooled her expression into one of reproach.
"And what sort of time do you call this?" she demanded, arching one eyebrow menacingly. The Doctor merely laughed, apparently delighted by her response, and bounced over to where she was perched.
"So where are you taking me, you ridiculous man?" River asked, smirking as she parted her legs until he stood between them.
"Somewhere completely brilliant," he vowed, grinning up at her. "I hope you've got your running shoes, River Song."
River made it to the TARDIS first, slightly out of breath, her cheeks flushed with excitement.
"In, in, quickly!" the Doctor panted, coming up behind her and making nervous hurrying gestures. River pulled open the blue doors that promised safety and adventure in nearly equal measure, darting inside with the flash of a grin tossed over her shoulder. The Doctor quickly closed the door behind them, then spun to face her, his eyes bright as he took her in. Her hair tie had been shot off, so narrowly had River herself been missed. Her hair, which now tumbled freely around her face, was a bit singed, and its corkscrews had coiled even more tightly as if in indignation. Umber dirt was smudged across her shoulders and just below the hollow of her collar bone, though it was the latter that drew the Doctor's gaze. There was something absurdly alluring about this particular combination of soft, sun-soaked skin and constellation of freckles half hidden beneath a layer of red dust. It reminded the Doctor, with startling vividness, of times he had accompanied an older, more demonstrative River on her archaeological digs. That was when, he decided, he had grown so fond of dust - at least when worn by his wife, the perfectly wicked, fearless Professor Song.
The woman standing before him now may not have been his wife, or a Professor of archaeology, or quite as fearless or even all that wicked, but she still, and would always remain to him, both Melody Pond and River Song, the woman who had died the day he ad found her. She was, however, also the woman who had lived in glorious brilliance for centuries; many, many days and nights of which she had spent, would spend and was, indeed, spending with him.
"I must say, River, adventure suits you," the Doctor beamed, taking her hand. She laughed as he tugged her toward him, and steadied herself with her free hand against his chest. His gentle, hazel-green eyes sparkled down at her, and as she looked up into them searchingly, she found no trace of the sadness she'd oft caught glimpses of. Seeing him like this, effervescent with adrenaline, the triumph of survival, and unmitigated adoration, was strangely exhilarating. River could see with abrupt clarity just how effortlessly, and how surely, she would fall in love with this man. In such early days as these, however, she had no inkling as to how much suffering their love would cause them both. She did recognize that his being here with her at her beginning when she was so near to the end himself was an incredible testament to his choice, that he had chosen her, no matter what it would cost him later.
"You're happy," River murmured, shaping one hand to his cheek.
"My time with you is extraordinarily precious to me. And you still have so many wondrous things ahead of you. You're not just going to be amazing, you know. You already are."
"Thank you, Sweetie." River smiled, stretching up to place a coquettish, yet grateful kiss on his surprised mouth.
"My mother tells me you have a pool - care to go for a swim?" she asked, stepping back from the Doctor a bit.
"Yes, yes, thad would be brilliant. We'll have to find it first, of course; the TARDIS keeps moving it, you see. The closet should be fully socked for you, anything you need-" River couldn't herself, and began to chuckle quietly, indulgently amused by his babbling. The Doctor cut himself off as his focus narrowed on River and her low, sultry laugh, and her chaotic, honey-colored curls.
"I never have been overly fond of swimsuits," she told him, her tone low and confidential as she leaned into him, before dancing away toward the hall. She glanced back at him for a brief moment, then deftly pulled her grey-blue tank-top off over her head and cast it aside. Startled by the play of her toned back muscles beneath her newly exposed golden skin (and half-convinced that at least one of his hearts had stopped beating), the Doctor followed a moment behind her. As flustered as he was by her suddenness, he smiled to think about how is younger self might have River's state of undress, and stumbled after her, still grinning. Knowing her as well as he did, he could tell that while her happiness and sexuality were entirely genuine (having survived many escapades with her, he was well familiar with her euphoric mood upon their return), her confidence was partially false, constructed to cover her insecurities. He also understood, however, that she, in all her stubborn, splendorous ferocity, would not be be doing this if she were not certain that she wanted to. So he hurried to catch up to her, even managing not to trip, and gently rested his hand on the small of her back. She turned to gaze up at him, and beamed at whatever she saw in his expression.
"A swim, eh?" he queried, his lips twitching up into a grin. "Lead the way, River Song. I'm right with you."
