River sat alone at a table in the University's impressive library, books and papers scattered across the ebony tabletop. She was half hidden by a wall of stacked tomes. Her glasses had slid progressively farther down her nose until they were nearly in danger of falling off and her explosive blonde curls tumbled messily around her face, her bun having come partly undone. It was late, so late that she was the only one in the library now, but that was how she liked it. River had a deal with the librarian that allowed her access to it at night - a silver key, kept on a bracelet around her wrist. She preferred the solitude; the quiet helped her to concentrate. Peace was something her live had been devoid of for so long, and while she reveled in the rush of dangerous expeditions (she loved a good tomb), she took comfort in the quietude of the library at night.

No one except River was supposed to be able to enter the library now (it was well past midnight), so when she heard faint footsteps approaching, she set down her pen and listened carefully. One hand easily found the small yet effective gun she kept handy at all times, though her expression remained neutral. She lifted her sharp green eyes from her papers, surreptitiously scanning the immediate area. A quiet scuffling noise came from behind the nearest bookcase, and River switched the safety off her gun. A tall figure appeared, but the library was too dark for River to see his or her face. And then, in a wonderfully anticlimactic act of clumsiness, The Doctor tripped into the pool of light around River's table. Her ever-present anxiety that someone would return for her faded to the back of her mind, and gave way to a myriad of emotions that she would come to forever associate with The Doctor: mild annoyance, profound relief, frustration, awe, a thrum of excitement, concern, indulgent exasperation, and a great deal of care.

"Doctor!" she exclaimed, surprised. "I almost shot your ridiculous hat off!" She got to her feet, setting her gun on the table as she did so.

"Wouldn't be the first time," The Doctor muttered as he strolled over to where River stood, removing said hat (a fedora) and twirling it in his hands. She filed that comment away for future reference, quite sure that she had never shot any of his hats. He frowned at her lack of an offhand retort, only then noticing the slight confusion in her eyes. It was rather well concealed, and she wondered at his ability to read her so easily.

"Or perhaps it would be. How early is this for you, exactly?" The Doctor queried, making his way around the table to her. "These are really quite charming, by the way," he remarked seriously, tapping the bridge of her reading glasses. River quickly took them off, having forgotten she'd been wearing them, warmth flooding her cheeks at the close proximity of this impossible man.

"This is the first time I've see you since you gave me the diary," River replied, her voice deliberately expressionless.

"Oh, goody! I mean, I've been bouncing around your timeline for awhile now, trying to find you just a bit after Berlin, but every time, you say you've seen me before. The TARDIS hasn't been very helpful. How long has it been, then?" The Doctor said in a rush, rambling impressively little.

"Two years," she answered shortly, more subdued than before, the loneliness not quite as well hidden.

"Oh, River- d'you mind if I call you that? Would you prefer Melody, or do you go by another name now? I wouldn't want to assume anything," he asked, sounding strangely apologetic.

"I...go by River," she responded slowly. Oh, there was so much that she had left unspoken, about the agonizing time she had spent asking herself the very same questions The Doctor had just voiced. She was certainly no longer 'Mels,' the juvenile delinquent and childhood friend of her parents. 'Melody' had been thoughtfully considered, as it was her given name, after all. But it seemed too sad and tasted of failure, and had been eventually discarded. The idea of making an entirely new name for herself had been appealing, and yet it somehow felt like it would have been a betrayal of self and of The Doctor. So that left 'River.' This was the name that held the most meaning of all, and therefor caused the most conflict for her. 'River' was the woman The Doctor loved, someone wise and strong and worthy. She didn't feel like that woman yet, but choosing that name came from a deep fear of never becoming The Doctor's River. It was a conscious promise to her future.

The Doctor was quiet for a moment; he simply looked at River, his eyes full of understanding. For who could grasp the importance of a name more than The Doctor?

"Well then, River," he began again, smiling, "I do apologize. I meant to give you time, time to start your own life, gets things going and all. I didn't want you to feel pressured or think I was hovering. Your life is your own now, fully and completely. The last thing I wanted was to sway your decisions in any way. I didn't meant to leave you alone for two years though, I'm dreadfully sorry. I hadn't realized."

River had never expected The Doctor to make it easy for her, and no one knew better than she that there was a lot of work to be done before she became River Song, but his word were a comfort nonetheless. It was nice to know that he had not intended to abandon her for two full years right at the start. The Doctor opened his mouth, apparently about to go one, but she cut him off.

"You're rambling, Doctor," she interrupted with a small smile. He gazed at her with faint amusement.

"Beginnings are infamously tricky, and ours tend to be especially difficult. I just want to keep yours from being more so than it already has been," he said truthfully.

"So is that why you're here, then? Checking up on my beginning two years after the fact?" River asked smoothly, raising one eyebrow questioningly.

"I- Well-" he tried, flustered and unsure how to respond. She laughed placidly, the familiar, low rolling sound seeming to calm The Doctor.

"It's all right, I won't hold it against you, Sweetie," River assured him, squeezing his shoulder as she spoke. His dark jade eyes shone with a strange combination of long buried pain-guilt? And either hope or love, River couldn't tell which.

"What are you doing in the library at this time of night anyway? It's nearly 1:00 a.m.!" The Doctor cried, swiftly moving on from the emotionally heavy moment. However, when she let her hand slip from his shoulder, he caught it in his and held on securely.

"Studying," River answered simply. She shrugged. "I find that I do the best work at night - and people can be ever so distracting."

"Have you been getting enough sleep?" The Doctor asked suddenly, his tone colored with concern. Without a moment's hesitation, he brought his free hand up and lightly traced the skin around River's verdant eyes. (Had he been thinking and not merely acting, he would remembered this was not a River who knew him as he knew her, and he would not have touched her so intimately.) The Doctor frowned at the dark circles and slight puffiness that were apparent under closer inspection.

"River," he chided absently tucking a stray tendril of hair behind her ear as he sighed. "You must take better care of yourself." She didn't flinch or pull away from his touch, as much as his care surprised her. River was uncertain how to respond; she wasn't accustomed to people looking after her. Perhaps sensing this, The Doctor mercifully changed the subject.

"Your parents send their love," he said, reluctantly lowering his hand from her face. "Oh, and they gave me a note to read to you. Actually, they gave it to me ages ago, but as it was intended for the first time we met after Berlin, I've been carrying it around for...well, awhile." He pulled a folded piece of blue stationary paper out of suit's breast pocket, and began to read.

"To our most treasured Melody. The Doctor said he'd be going to visit you when you were in school, not long after Berlin. But knowing him, he won't have ended up where he meant-" (The Doctor snorted indignantly) "-so Rory and I aren't sure exactly when you would be reading this. When The Doctor said he would be visiting young you, we asked him to take us to see you, but he spouted some gibberish about crossing personal timelines and some other spacey-wacey nonsense. All of which basically translated to, 'She's not ready to see you, and besides, I'd rather have her all to myself.'" Here, The Doctor paused, blushing furiously. River bit her lip as he shifted awkwardly, and decided that she enjoyed being enough to make him squirm.

"Er, sorry, I hadn't read this through beforehand," The Doctor apologized, "As I had planned to visit you six months after Berlin, I did think it would be unfair to spring your parents on you without warning. They do love you immensely, but you've not had the most traditional of relationships with them."

"Thank you. Even now, I'm not entirely sure what I would say to them. It's incredibly messy, on both sides. I do appreciate the letter, however. Was that it, or..." River gestured at the blue stationary still clutched in The Doctor's hand.

"Ah, no, there's a bit more," he replied, nervous at the prospect of what Amelia had written next. He looked up from the paper, and at River's nod, he continued reading.

"So if we're not allowed to see you yet, remember that Rory and I, we'll always love you. I know foreknowledge has the ability to bring about the end of the Universe and all that, but just know that in your future, you'll get to know us all over again. The four of us will do absolutely extraordinary things together. All our love, Amy and Rory. PS: Oh, and one more thing, Melody. Take care of The Doctor for us?" As The Doctor finished reading, he raised his eyes to meet River's, just as she blinked away a surge of emotion and valiantly tried to combat her growing exhaustion. She glanced down at the note, thinking of Amy and Rory; the childhood friends she had betrayed by trying to kill Amelia's Raggedy Man, and the parents she'd been taken from. After everything, they'd forgiven her, or so it would seem, and loved her still. Who would have thought? she mused.

Seeing the direction of River's gaze, The Doctor quickly handed her the letter, which she re-folded neatly before tucking it safely into her blouse. She enjoyed his reaction as he watched the letter disappear between her breasts; his eyes went wide, and she could practically hear him wondering what else was hidden there. Then he seemed to realize he was staring at her cleavage, and promptly turned red, his eyes snapping up to meet hers. She chuckled quietly, amused and oddly touched by his adorably guilty expression. Bless.

"I- We- You. Bed," stuttered, putting on his best authoritative face, which was terribly unconvincing and had absolutely no effect on the woman before him. She slowly raised one eyebrow, the smirk playing around her mouth enough to keep The Doctor blushing, though he wasn't altogether sure why.

"Why, Doctor," she purred, "I didn't know you had it in you to be so very direct. I must say, I'm impressed." He swallowed convulsively, vaguely realizing that his mouth had abruptly gone dry. He very nearly groaned in frustration. This woman, he thought. Of course she'd have this affect on me, even now, as young as she is. Logically, he know that this was not the woman he had married and made love to, not yet, at any rate. His body, on the other hand, clearly had not received the memo. The same lips he had kissed a hundred thousand times were now smirking suggestively at him. The infinitely soft, obstreperous honey-blonde hair that he had twined his hands through in both passion and comfort was now piled half-heartedly at the crown of her head, ringlets having come loose to frame her face, which was more known to him than any other's. Those blue/green eye that had gazed at him with every conceivable emotion were now staring back at him, softer and younger, more conflicted and easier to read than he had ever seen them. All the same curves he knew and loved so well, and such soft skin, which would be kissed by a million, million different suns to make up for her days in Stormcage. Not as resilient, not as patient nor as sagacious, not as sad but more broken, yet still his River, whom he had promised to always, always care for.

River watched curiously as The Doctor's expression changed, going from barely restrained lust to poorly concealed love.

"River," The Doctor began carefully, seeming to bite back an endearment, "you need rest. Sleep. In a bed."

"I'm not much of a sleeper, to be honest," River warned. Her words were meant to resist The Doctor's, and her voice was light, but The Doctor now had decades of deciphering the meaning hidden being what she said.

"Of course," he murmured. "The nightmares. Everything they put in your brain, it's no wonder. I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry," he said, brushing the pads of his fingers along her hairline, ghosting over her temple. River shivered at his touch, and he drew back, looking contrite. She smiled, as if to say, "it's all right, really." The tremble was born from the welcome but new feeling of being shown gentleness. River didn't ask how he knew - how could he not? He came from a future in which they trusted one another absolutely.

"Yes," she replied shortly. "You can help me carry all this to my flat," she said, gesturing at the array of books and papers that littered the table.

"All right," The Doctor agreed immediately. "Here to help," he added with a grin.

"In that case, let's put you to work," she responded as they turned back to the table. River handed The Doctor three book bags; while he went around the table closing and collecting books, she worked on sorting her papers into the appropriate files. They were silent as they packed up, each lost in their own confusing thoughts.

"You have your own key to the library?" The Doctor asked in surprise, sounding impressed. River locked the door behind them on their way out, each of them weighed down with two bags bursting with books and folders.

"Mm. I love libraries, and the librarian trusts me," River replied. "You seem like the kind of person who could understand an appreciation for libraries," she noted as they walked across the silent, dark campus toward her flat. Due to her promising position within the school, she had been granted her own flat off to the side of the campus.

"I love knowledge and I'm absolutely crazy about the smell of books," The Doctor answered cautiously. River knew instantly that he was holding something back, though, and it intrigued her.

"What about libraries themselves?" she prompted curiously.

"I...used to be a big fan of libraries, but to tell you the truth, they rather lost their appeal awhile back."

"What happened?"

"I've found that the larger the library, the more extensive, the more wonderful a place it is. Do you agree?" River nodded, then realized he could not see the slight motion in the darkness.

"I do."

"Yet the greater the library, the easier it is to get lost...or lose someone else," The Doctor concluded cryptically. River wondered why he sounded so sorrowful, and knew that was all she was going to get out of him on the subject, at least tonight.

"But having people to lose, in any sense of the word...That's something to be grateful for," River countered, letting them into her home. The Doctor was startled by how easily she had reminded him of something so profoundly important, although he hadn't thought there was anything left with which she could surprise him. Not that he would ever make the mistake of underestimating her, no; it was merely an assumption based off the fact he had been married to her for several centuries. The Doctor watched her for a long moment, taking in her sloppy bun, heather grey University jumper, and faded blue jeans. He smiled to himself; it made him inexplicably happy to see her dressed so casually, so clearly in her element when it came to her studies, and no doubt excelling brilliantly.

"You're right," he agreed when she turned back to him, and followed her inside.

"You can put those down right through here," River called, looking back over her shoulder as she disappeared around a corner and down a hallway. The Doctor hurried to catch up with her, still toting two heavy bags of books without complaint. Seeing a light flicker on in a room at the end of the hall, he ducked inside. Ah, he thought meekly. River's bedroom. The bed looked like had been made in a hurry, appearing invitingly slept in. The Doctor redirected his gaze to a desk in the far corner, where River was currently unloading the books she'd borrowed from the library. He made his way cheerfully over to her, placing a hand gently on her upper back as he came up behind her. She flashed him a brief smile to cover up her confusion, took the books from him, and silently started arranging them on the desk. He could only admire her, everything about her, from her practiced and relaxed motions to the logical organization of numerous texts, from how soft and unusually huggable she looked in that jumper to how perfectly those well-worn jeans embraced the contours of her legs above the knee. It was only with great difficulty that he resisted the urge to wind his arms around her from behind to find out just how huggable she was.

"No wonder you didn't want to bring my parents along," River remarked, seemingly out of the blue. The Doctor recognized her dangerously sly tone, but he couldn't resist asking anyway.

"And why is that, Miss Song?" he inquired, sounding just a little too oblivious and curious to not be aware of what she was doing.

"Because," River started, revolving to face him with an entertained smile, "you wouldn't be able to get away with ogling me so openly." The Doctor's mouth opened and closed uselessly as he tried to figure out what to say. He briefly contemplated denying it, but they both knew better. "Mind you, you're not exactly doing a bang-up job of it sans parent Ponds, either," she added, the sparkle in her sea-green eyes letting him know that he was forgiven.

"River, River, River," The Doctor sighed, shaking his head. "Whatever am I going to do with you?"

"You tell me," she returned coyly, looking up at him challengingly. He laughed with genuine delight, content in the knowledge that in this regard at least, his wife would never change.

"Spoilers," he grinned impishly, taking great pleasure in finally being able to turn that word back on her after all those years of River's infuriating smugness. Not that she actually understood the joke now of course - it was just for him, really.

"Well, for now, would you like a cuppa?" River offered with uncharacteristic hospitality. Her expression remained clear under The Doctor's scrutiny, and she innocently pulled the scrunchie out of her curls, letting corkscrews of blonde hair frame her face.

"...Yes?" The Doctor replied, so cautiously that is came out sounding more like a question than an answer.

"Then you may go make one while I get cleaned up," River said with a small smile, pulling her jumper off over her head in one swift motion. Realizing that she was undressing, The Doctor knew he needed to hurry along before she got any further. He was rather doubtful as to how much control he would be able to maintain were River to lose any more layers, and as he firmly reminded himself, This was not his wife. Yet.

"Would you like one as well?" he asked graciously, hoping to cover up the slightly flush that had creeped into his cheeks. River was admittedly interested, and found the idea of The Doctor doing something as domestic as making her tea rather novel.

"Thank you," she answered, and The Doctor nodded. It wasn't until she made a shooing motion that he remembered he was supposed to be doing something elsewhere. The fitted, forest green tank-top she wore was more than a little distracting.

"Right! Tea!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together once and spinning to face the door.

"I'll come find you when I'm through here," River called after him. The Doctor gave her an exuberant salute before trotting off down the hallway.

Now, if I were River's kitchen where would I be? The Doctor followed the hallways back to River's front door, in order to start at the beginning. He did find her kitchen eventually, after wandering around her home for a bit trying to take in the personal touches of her dwelling without violating her space and snooping. It was sparingly decorated, containing only the necessities. However, there were bookshelves lining nearly every wall, and stacks of books could be found in most of the corners and beside the couch. From the state of her home, The Doctor gathered that she rarely had visitors (everything was a singleton), and that even River herself didn't spend more time here than she had to. And from the abundance of books and the nightmares he knew she was plagued with, The Doctor also surmised that she spent more time reading than sleeping.

By the time he had found the kitchen, The Doctor's chest ached with the weight of the guilt he felt at having left River alone for so long. He then thought of how patient she had been with him in his past - her future - and fell a little bit more in love with this impossible, mad woman, this archaeologist, the child of the Ponds and his TARDIS. As he set about putting on the kettle, The Doctor found his thoughts absorbed by the woman of the hour, whom he knew was just down the hall changing. He almost dropped the mugs upon hearing the shower come on, something he knew River would certainly not appreciate. But good grief. River. Shower. River in the shower. Showering. With the no clothes and the water and the soap; a wet, soapy River. Brain, shut-up! When he nearly scalded himself by grabbing the body of the kettle, The Doctor knew he desperately needed to get his mind off of his gorgeous, naked wife-not-wife in the shower not twenty feet away. He busied himself by looking for River's collection of tea, finally discovering it in a covert pantry. Leave it to River to have a clever, tricky, secret pantry, he laughed to himself, with no small amount of pride.

Though the process was not without mishap, The Doctor ended up with two steaming mugs of tea, carefully set out on coasters on the coffee table in the living. By a rare stroke of fortune, The Doctor's unfamiliarity with River's kitchen (and his initial difficulty in finding it) had coincided perfectly with River's quick shower; The Doctor had only just sat down on the couch when River sauntered into the living room. The Doctor's breath caught in his throat at the vision of absolute beauty that stood before him, his eyes eagerly taking in her appearance. She was wearing a simple, yet elegant dark green nightdress that fell to just above her knees. The nightdress was held up with thin straps, exposing River's toned shoulders, and though it wasn't fitted, it was gathered at the waist, and did not leave much to the imagination. She had only towel-dried her fantastic hair, and the tousled, damp look was very nearly more than The Doctor could handle. As she walked over to the sofa, he caught a whiff of her shampoo, as well as the clean smell of bar soap, which brought back the horribly distracting images of a wet, soapy River. Her cheeks were pink with warmth from the hot shower, her face wonderfully natural and so very kissable after having been washed of any make-up. The Doctor was often surprised by how short River truly was, as she so often wore heals, but her presence was no less commanding. She was absolutely breathtaking.

The Doctor rose rapidly and somewhat clumsily as River came to a stop beside him, his coordination suffering due to the fact that his olfactory senses were being besieged with the scent of her soap, warm skin, and something that was purely River.

"River," he murmured simply, for what else could he say? What could ever be enough? He knew he was not allowed to caress her in the way he so deeply desired to, and he found that he did not know how to express what he felt without the aid of touch. He restrained himself to gently resting one hand on her bare shoulder for a fleeting moment, before gesturing toward the couch. She nodded and sat down, The Doctor following a second later. Neither spoke until River picked up the mug of tea that was sitting on her side of the coffee table, smelled it, and smiled.

"Peppermint. Lovely choice."

"Two sugars, no cream," The Doctor added, hoping that River had always taken her tea the way his River did. Another nod was the only indication that he had made her tea correctly. The Doctor grasped his own mug of tea (Chamomile), and half-turned on the couch to sit opposite River, who had tucked her legs beneath herself to face him.

"So what are you really doing here?" River asked, after several minutes of silence. While she waited for him to answer, her cupped her hands around her mug and inhaled the minty smelling steam appreciatively.

"I'm here to see you," The Doctor replied easily.

"Why?" Rive prompted bluntly.

"Because..." The Doctor paused to form a coherent sentence, knowing he had to be careful here. "Because you are very important to me, as I'm sure you realized in Berlin. And because while I know you, you do not know me, not really. And I want you to."

"Oh, I know a great deal about you, Doctor. I know about the races you obliterated, the planets you destroyed, and the danger you pose to the future. I also know of the people you've saved, and how many times over the Universe owes you her continued existence. I know of the more notable times you've appeared throughout history, cropping up most often on Earth, always traveling with a...companion, usually a young woman." Here River grew quiet, looking up from her tea for confirmation. The Doctor sighed.

"I've no doubt you know much about me, River. But that does not me you know who I am, only what I've done. D'you see?" he asked, furrowing his brow as he searched River's expression for understanding. However, her eyes were too guarded even for him.

"All right, then. Why do you travel with various women?" she asked, tilting her head curiously. Oh, this should be a fun conversation, The Doctor thought sardonically. Let's explain to my wife why I travel with lovely, young, human women. Sure. He took a minute to compose himself, set down his tea, then began to speak.

"When I travel alone for too long, I lose perspective. I make mistakes, mistakes that...hurt people. I grow arrogant, and I forget what really matter. These friends that I travel with, they view the Universe with younger eyes. They see hope when I've long since given up looking for it, and maybe most importantly, they tell me when to stop," The Doctor explained slowly, his voice even. When he continued, though, he sounded pensive and ever so sad.

"I don't go looking for them, but somehow they always find me. They get to see beginning and the end of the Universe, and so much in between. I get to be a little less lonely. If I can show someone with no great aspirations or a low opinion of herself that she can save worlds, a space whale, or even the Universe itself...That makes up for it, right?" The Doctor's voice grew high in distress, and his eyes were pleading with River for the absolution he would never allow himself. A good portion of River's façade crumbled then. She set her mug back down on the coffee table before meeting The Doctor's gaze. Such old eyes, she thought, her heart constricting in her chest. She shaped one hand to his cheek, soothingly stroking his skin with her thumb, and rested her other hand on his where they twined anxiously in his lap.

"Make up for what, Sweetie?" River asked, her voice low and calming, gentle but pushing for the truth, unafraid to find it, however dark it may be.

"For losing them." The Doctor's voice broke, though he spoke barely above a whisper. "Some get taken far, far away...Some choose to leave me, some have to forget, and some...Some die." He ducked his head, unable to look River in the eye as he spoke the last bit. He couldn't tell her that her death outweighed everything else he had to atone for. It was one thing he could never, ever make up for. And not just that he had failed to keep her safe or that she had died for him, but that it hadn't been her Doctor who had been with her when she'd died. He hadn't been able comfort her, he hadn't been able to tell her he loved her. Oh, she knew of course, better than he had at the time. But he had let her down in every way imaginable. The look in her eye when he had asked who she was... The Doctor shook his head to banish such horrible thoughts. River was here with now, and she was safe, and she had so much ahead of her.

River was startled when a smile made its way onto The Doctor's face, beginning around his mouth and finally lighting up his ancient eyes.

"Come, you beautiful woman. You're exhausted, and you need sleep. I've kept you up long enough," The Doctor said seriously, smile still in place. With that, he placed a tender, yet courteous kiss on the back of her hand, and got to his feet. Returning his mug to the kitchen, he left River alone to collect herself.

When The Doctor returned to the living room, River was nowhere to be seen. A slight crease of bemusement and worry appearing between his eyes, he tentatively made his way down the hall to her bedroom.

"River?" he called quietly, hovering just outside her room. "Erm, I should get going-" he was abruptly cut off when River poked her head around the corner, and extended her hand.

"Come on, Doctor. It's not polite to keep a woman waiting." Instead of fumbling for the right thing to say, which could only have ended in disaster, The Doctor took her hand and let her pull him into her room. I'm usually the one doing the hand-grabbing, the thought vaguely. But then again, this is River.

"River?" he repeated, still confused.

"You're the one who's insisting I sleep," she said with a shrug, releasing his hand and making her way over to her bed.

"Why do I have to be here for that?" The Doctor asked nervously.

"I told you, I don't sleep. You know why. You're welcome to leave, of course, I can hardly force you to stay...but you must at least say good night before you fly away." River spoke nonchalantly, but she held herself carefully, as if to guard herself against rebuke. And The Doctor could have kicked himself for not sooner comprehending what River could not quite bring herself to ask for.

"Would it be too much to ask if I could stay the night? It's a rather long walk to the TARDIS, and it's closer to morning now than evening anyway," he asked hopefully, his brow wrinkling convincingly at the thought of having to go back outside.

"I thought you had to 'get going?'" River queried suspiciously.

"I have a time machine; I could stay here for a week and still make it back five minutes after I left," The Doctor reminded, a tiny smirk showing up, unbidden, on his lips. From the flash on intuition that manifested itself in the purse of River's lips and the gratitude in her tired eyes, The Doctor knew she understood what he was doing for her.

"So what about it, eh? May I stay?" As River hesitated before answering, it struck them both how loaded a question that was, with so very much at stake. The Doctor's past, her future, their life together, their backward timelines.

"Of course," she answered softly.

"Lovely, I'll just kip on the floor. D'you have a spare blanket I could borrow?" The Doctor wondered aloud, glancing around her room distractedly. If River was surprised by his decision to sleep on the floor of her room, she gave no indication.

"One moment," she replied, holding up a finger as if to warn him not to leave. Oh, River. As if I ever could.

Ten minutes later, The Doctor (now wearing a pair of River's sweatpants and her large, TARDIS blue University shirt) had made a bed of blankets on River's floor beside her four-poster. It bore a striking resemblance to a nest a tired, lonely child might make, but River was too sleepy to make fun of him for it. The Doctor and River stood facing each other now, she next to her bed and he on his.

"I can help you with the nightmares, River," he promise softly, all levity forgotten for the moment. When she looked doubtful, he hurried to reassure her. "I can! It'll take time, and trust, and this is too soon for you, I think. Besides, you should just rest now. But I'll come again soon, and if you're willing, I will help you sort through them. I won't be gone as long this time."

"Come again," River began gently, "and we'll see." The Doctor nodded his agreement, a rather sad smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Slowly, so as to not startle her and to give her enough time to stop him, The Doctor leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead.

"Good night, River," he murmured, stepping back with a smile.

"Good night, Doctor," she replied.

They each made themselves comfortable in their respective beds before River switched off the light, leaving them in the quiet darkness of her bedroom. As she did every night, River awoke several hours after falling asleep, screaming and thrashing about. And as he would for centuries to come, The Doctor roused himself and held her, consoling the distraught woman as best he could. Morning saw the ageless god wrapped around the healing psychopath, the man's time with her slowly coming to a close, while the woman's story was just beginning.