I did my best, it wasn't much

I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch

I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you

And even though

It all went wrong

I'll stand before the Lord of Song

With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

She was nearly gone now.

The swift and terrible dawn was coming to Darillum at last.

"No, no tears!" She had declared. "You told me two decades ago this wasn't necessarily the end. So...don't treat it like it is."

The tears were welling up. They'd learned to flow a good deal more freely in her presence...at least relatively speaking.

"None of this means I'm finding it easy to say goodbye." She admitted.

Ah. He thought. Yet another full circle. A poetic sort of beauty he supposed. Ugly and true.

"If it's up to me, there's only one way I'll accept it. If you love me..." Love. A word so often felt but still, even now, so rarely said by him. How many times through the years had he let it sprinkle his speech. Not more than a handful, surely. "...say it like you're coming back."

"If I love you." She repeated with a chuckle. She kissed him. "Well, then. See you around, Doctor."

"Till the next time, my River Song."

She'd smiled and worried her bottom lip and for the first time, in all the times she'd left him he never saw reluctance.

"You'll see me again." He assured her. But she was too smart not to catch the meaning of what he didn't say.

They didn't stay on Darillum for all those years. That wasn't part of the deal. It was to be their dark paradise, not their prison. They traveled, oh how they traveled, as he'd always wanted to, with reckless abandon, breakneck speed and barely a breath in between. He'd never quite seen River embrace her true half-Gallifreyan nature. Rather, he thought he had but all these experiences corrected him. She was faster, smarter and stronger than he had ever imagined. He'd asked her once why she had hidden this from him, all she could do, all she could really do. Her answer was simple, "You had to grow up." After a pause, she added. "I suppose so did I."

One day, one extraordinarily quiet day where the TARDIS almost refused to show him anything interesting they were sitting in their home on Darilium. He'd left the ship in a snit and she'd finally been able to calm him down with a cuppa.

"You'll need to drag out those old robes." She'd said smoothly.

"How's that?" He'd asked.

"I doubt they've had an airing since Charlie played dress-up. Am I right?"

"I've no idea what you're on about, River." He replied in confusion.

"Your Prydonian robes. One for you and one for me. Will the baby need something special?" She asked with a twinkle in her eye.

He was silent. Completely silent because, though a Time Lord, he had suddenly lost all track and understanding of time.

"Has it gotten through yet?" She teased. "My goodness, I know you're old but you haven't gotten senile on me, have you?"

He rushed over suddenly and got down on his knees before her, gazing up at her nearly too frightened to hope.

"Are you...?"

"We are." She replied with a smile. "Happy?"

"Happy is a terribly poor word to substitute for how I feel."

Those tears. Was that the first time they'd arrived? He was hard pressed to remember now. But he did recall resting his head in her lap for a moment and closing his eyes. He remembered imagining that the universe was a fine and lovely place with just enough beauty and excitement. That it had it's fair share of danger, but for their child only that false danger you feel on scary rides at the amusement park. There for a moment but then gone leaving you adrenaline filled and excited and no worse for wear. That was the universe he wished and wanted for their-

"It's going to be a girl." She supplied.

"How do you know?"

"I just do." She said confidently as she stroked his hair.

Every bit of him that was rooted in science and fact and biology was swept away in the face of her pronouncement. She couldn't possibly know, not this early. But she said she did. So it was true. They were having a girl.

Returning to his original thought at the time...that was not, unfortunately, the universe that waited for their child. There were no padded edges or velvet ropes. Everything was full of sharp edges and it was all open to the public come one, come all. Jump in, get hurt, skin your knee, get frightened, get stolen, get lost, get killed. Owner takes no responsibility for those who are willing to leap on this ride called "Living".

But he kept all that to himself. The arguments were irrelevant at this point and in a way he was glad to have the burden lifted. He wasn't forced to have the rational talk about how foolish this all was. It was happening and he was delighted. He was going to be a father...again.

After a moment he removed himself from her lap and began to pepper her with question after question about what she knew, what she needed, what she wanted, what he could do.

She laughed and said, "Nothing at the moment, Sweetie, except, perhaps another cup of tea."

As the months went on he limited their trips and increased his affection towards her. It was as if a dam had broken. And relatively speaking for him, he held very little back. He touched her as he'd always wanted to, held her, doted on her and dared to imagine their life together. What if he could change the future? What if he could unwrite it all? Library be damned.

"Amy and Rory are grandparents." She'd said sadly one night her hand on her belly. "They'll never know."

He didn't know how to answer that so he didn't. He pretended like he didn't remember them. Not just them, everyone who had come before. Yes,

Yes, everyone. Neuro blocker, indeed.

But it was harder to forget the Ponds nowadays.

River was 100% River...except when she teased him like Amy or frowned like Rory or made him laugh or sigh with consternation the way both of them had a tendency to do so many years ago. Odd that it was so easy to see her parents in her now that they were no longer in his life and she was.

He liked having a pregnant wife, loved watching her grow with life inside her. But more than that he loved seeing her flourish and relax and smile. There were no dark clouds hanging over their heads...save the one. But on the best of days he could put even that behind him and pretend it away.

He loved a life without spoilers and he loved a life with River Song.

When her waters broke and the pains began it was back to the TARDIS and the hospital he'd taken her to so, so many years ago. The Sisters of the Infinite Schism rushed them both to delivery and he was there as he hadn't been for the birth of his other children. He was there from the first push to the last. He was there for the first cry. He was there to watch his wife cradle the daughter she had long ago predicted.

Karn was as close as he was willing to get to Gallifrey. But he couldn't imagine doing this on Darillum or some other nameless planet or even in the TARDIS. This was as close to right as things could be.

As it turned out he didn't need to hunt for the robes after all. Ohila provided them with all they needed upon arrival. Somehow...she'd predicted this. There was an altar prepared according to all the rights and rituals needed. And there, a mere 4 billion light years away from his home he stood with his wife and daughter. And River spoke her name. And he spoke his. And they both bequeathed one to their child. And ah...there were those tears again. Traveling resumed when she was four and a sturdy, wickedly smart toddler. Easy places, kind places, gentle places. For the first

Traveling resumed when she was four and a sturdy, wickedly smart toddler. Easy places, kind places, gentle places. For the first time, he scouted ahead. For the first time he cloaked their double heartbeats. Anything to make the two girls in his life that much less interesting to outsiders.

He dared to let them venture out farther with each passing year but always brought them back to Darillium, which besides the Tardis was the only home she'd ever known.

His adventure had morphed into something different; watching his wife mother and teach and scold and comfort.

He thought he'd be the disciplinarian. He was in fact, as River called him, a soft touch.

He thought she'd be the over-protective one. But it was he who was reluctant to let her play with the other children, to stray too far, climb too high. It was so against his nature, or so he thought, but there were so many faces, so many years and so many losses that had come between this child and the ones he'd had before. Had it not been for River, all he would have known how to be with her was cautious. Perhaps suffocatingly so. But it was the gentle nudging of his wife; "Let her breathe. Let her explore. Let her go." that almost always won him over.

These were their salad days. For once the ordinary wasn't too taxing or stressful and it didn't grate on him. It only felt right.

"I never dared to hope for this." She said late one night in bed.

"Not I." He responded.

"I thought he was my Doctor."

"So did he." A pause. "He was. I am. We are."

"She's so much like you."

"I wish I could take all the credit. But not even close."

"I love you."

"I love you. Now stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Stop saying goodbye by degrees. There's years yet until the sun comes up. Now write in your diary."

"Why?"

"Because today was a good day. And it's worth remembering."

There were so many good days. Days of being called Dad or Sweetie or Doctor with that cheeky lilt. Days where he got to learn about all his wife's adventures, some of her secrets and more than a few of her fears. The mystery of this woman has intrigued him for centuries but he found in these quiet and not so quiet times the woman herself was far more interesting. Every day he learned to love her more, and the love he'd felt the day before seemed superficial by comparison. Every day he learned to grow a bit more towards her the way a plant reached and stretched and unfurled towards the sunlight.

How the ordinary used to pain and drag and sometimes even wound. He, of course, conceded that "ordinary" was a relative term. But no matter the definition, ordinary was now a balm, a much-needed salve, a welcome respite of they three; husband and wife and child.

It was only supposed to be a pitstop and a chance for all three of them to look on Gallifrey again without actually setting foot there. He'd been nervous the first time and was even more so now. A halfling and a quarterling this close to the Time Lords. He didn't like it at all.

But still, at his girls encouragement, they came to Karn. Their daughter was immediately enraptured. She disappeared with one of the young sisters as River and he spoke with Ohila. He didn't think much about it...he should have.

When they were back on the TARDIS hours later it was all she could talk about and both he and River indulged her. She was all of nine and he adored her enthusiasm and later he took her to the ship's library as she had been aching to know more about her people, his people, their people. He set her down with a history book and knowing how she valued her reading time left her alone promising to fill in any gaps or answer any questions later.

The years passed as they did, happy years, exciting years, years where he forgot about debts owed, prices to be paid and an endless night on a planet that was still ticking away.

He rarely, if ever, spent a day where he was not holding onto to both of their hands. He rarely, if ever, had a night where he didn't bid their daughter sweet dreams. He rarely, if ever, had a night he didn't end next to singular serenity that was River Song.

He knew he couldn't hold onto them both forever but he didn't know which he'd lose first. As it turned out, it was the one he least expected.

"I want to go to Karn. I want to study with the Sisters. Ohila said there was a place for me." Their daughter stated one day. Her chin was raised defiantly, prepared for a fight. And a fight she got.

He argued. He raged. Why? Why? Why would she want to cloister herself away with a bunch of humorless adherents who worship a Clipper.

"Because I like it there, Dad. Because I want to find a place in this world. Because you're so...careful!" She said with exasperation.

It was at that point that River laughed and they both looked at her bewildered.

"I'm sorry, I've just-" She began but another fit of giggles overtook her before she could finish. "..never heard anyone refer to the Doctor as careful before."

"Is this you helping?" He asked. "Have you not heard what your daughter just said. She wants to enter the nunnery."

"I heard...and I think we should listen to her. The least we owe her is to hear her out."

He balked and groused but, in the end, he did sit and listen to an impassioned speech by a young girl who to his delight was so like her mother and to his horror was too much like him. At the end of it, they sent her off so they could discuss it.

"She'd be a few billion light years away from Gallifrey. That's practically a stones throw."

"She'd be hiding in plain sight. There's almost nowhere safer."

"Yes, almost. The safest place it with us."

"Is it? Is it really?" River sighed heavily. "If there's one thing I know for sure about that girl, our daughter, it's if we don't let her go she will run. She will run fast and she will run far. Is that what you want?"

"Karn is a wasteland. She'll never see anything, experience anything."

"Sweetie, I do believe you're arguing out of both sides of your mouth. On one hand it's too dangerous for her to go there but on the other not nearly enough excitement."

"I can argue out of anywhere I like." He said petulantly.

"What you do here now, Doctor, matters." She began seriously. "What you say to her in these moments, how you leave her, how you let her go, it will all always matter. It can't be undone or rewritten. You don't get a dress rehearsal with children. This is real and final."

He heard what she was saying without her saying it. He would need to know these things. How do deal with his daughter without sending her to the far-flung corners of the universe just to escape him. He would need to know this because she, River, wouldn't always be here to translate, to mend fences, to soothe and repair. River wouldn't always be there. He tried to never let that thought creep in because it warped and darkened everything. Fighting back against it now wasn't easy but he did his best and as he came out of the fog he realized she was right.

"I hate letting go in an effort to hold on." He grumbled.

"I know you do." She said with a smile as she patted his cheek.

"How badly will you miss her?" He asked.

"It will rend me." She said simply. "You?"

"It will break me, the same as it always does when I let go of my children." He replied quietly. He'd spoken about them to her. He'd uttered their names to her. Names were so important, so powerful and when he spoke them aloud it was like a conjuring, a siren call that brought them back to him with painful clarity. He had never believed it before, but his River, his wife brought meaning to the phrase, a burden shared is a burden lightened. And gradually over their years together as he mentioned them more and more the sharp ache of their memory dulled just a bit. Another gift she brought. Another he did his best to try and unselfishly return. He wanted to lighten her burden as well. "But..." He continued. "We'll share it together."

When they returned to Karn, delighted daughter in tow he took the child aside.

"Be sure to say goodbye to your mother."

"Of course, Dad."

"No... That's not what I mean." How to say it? How to tell her without telling her? How not to arouse suspicion? He didn't know for sure when they'd see her again. There weren't that many years left and if this was the last... "I've had a nasty habit all my life. I've been very flippant when it comes to goodbye. You can't be greedy with farewells. Each one may be the last one."

"I'm coming back!" She protested. "You'll see me again."

"I know that." He assured her. "We both do. But take this lesson to heart, when you say goodbye to someone make sure you tell them all that you want to say. Everything in your hearts. Never leave someone to wonder how you feel. Alright?"

"Alright, Dad. I'll start with you."

He hadn't expected that. Hadn't even included himself in this.

"I love you and traveling with you and mum has been an amazing adventure. Don't think of this as a stop, just a pause. The TARDIS is home and it always will be. And I know you both will always be here. So don't worry about me. Just take care of Mum and I'll be back before you know it, ok?"

"Ok." He said once he was able to navigate around the lump in his throat.

He watched as she dashed over to River. Watched as his wife was similarly affected. Watched as they embraced fully.

"If anything happens, if she needs help, if they...whoever "they" might be, find her, if she wants us, if she scrapes her knee, or gets a papercut, if she has a sandwich that disagrees with her, if a war breaks out, if Gallifrey moves even a fraction of an inch closer in orbit, send for me." He said to Ohila quietly.

"You wear fatherhood well. But then you always did." She smiled in reply. "Leave us now. She will be safe here."

And so they left. And where there were once three there were now only two again. While they didn't fill the space their child had left they didn't allow it to come between them either.

Why are the happy years so harder to recount that the sad ones? Who do the joyful days all blend together in a pleasant blur while every dark hour can be marked off in horrible detail? His only solace was that it was true for every creature in the universe. But none of that changed the fact that they were happy years.

They fought in no less than 48 battles and 3 civil wars side by side, they attended the wedding of Emperor Ludens Nimrod Kendrick Cord Longstaff XLI, and they danced the final waltz before the ritual destruction of the Gilded Ballroom of the 110th Zann dynasty which had stood for 8000 years. They made memories upon memories upon memories and still it wasn't enough. His life was all brightness with her and he wanted Darillum to stay dark forever.

But it couldn't. And one day he heard the unmistakable sounds of the tents being erected, the sound of vehicles as they barreled into town with decorations and food and all manner of things for the celebration of the first sunrise in 24 years. It was one of the most wretched sounds he had ever heard.

"I'll not have you getting all sullen on me." She'd said as she'd bustled into the console room. "It won't do."

"I'm not sullen."

"You regenerated sullen and I've spent many years trying to shake you out of it. You won't undo all my work. Now come on."

"Where?" He grumbled.

River turned to meet his eyes and he saw the sadness in hers, how it clouded around the corners how she tried to blink it away with her lashes. But it was there just the same.

"To town. I won't have you turn the coming dawn into an enemy. To turn a phrase on its ear; you've loved the sky to fiercely to be fearful of the day."

And so he went with her, hand in hand as he always did. There were still a few more days of darkness, a few more days for him to decide what he could do, if anything.

He found it bitterly ironic that given enough years he could come up with a plan to say his entire planet and the billions of people on it. But he couldn't think of one way to save a single woman that he desperately loved.

The particular sword of Damocles arrived by way of psychic paper. She was needed, it said. For a few jobs. Short ones, interesting, can't miss, big finds. The Caverns of the Icles. The Vanishing City of Marphip. The famed and silent Lux Library. Was she available, the message asked? Could she come as soon as the next few days, perhaps?

"A bit more innocuous sounding than I imagined." She said brightly and he could hear the relief in her voice. Two of these I've always wanted to see! I haven't heard about the Library though. I'll do some research on the fly."

He gave her full access to the TARDIS research files. The ship, no matter how much she wanted to and he could feel that she did, would never tell her anything to compromise the future. She agreed to the expeditions not long after and the stage was set.

"Just in case...I want to see her again." She told him late one evening, her body curled against his in bed.

So they returned to Karn. It wasn't the first time since dropping her off. It wouldn't be his last. They had a perfectly lovely time and he couldn't help but focus on how much their daughter had grown and grown to look like her mother.

He tried to avoid speaking with Ohila which was, of course, impossible.

"Why now?" She asked him.

"Because she wished it. She wanted to see her child again." He answered simply. "So did I."

"You've always been a dismal liar. How you gallivant around the universe with the storied reputation you do when you've got the skills of a toddler escapes me."

"Family outing. Nothing more." He concluded and she, surprisingly, let things lie.

River, consummate actress that she was, never let anything slip, never betrayed her feelings and he watched her intently for a sign. Only once, when their child turned away to reach for some object to elucidate some tale she was telling did River let her face fall. Drinking her in, drinking this last.

It was over far too quickly but what would have been enough?

"Tell your mother goodbye." He whispered to her as they embraced. "And make it a good one."

"Of course." She replied. "What's wrong?"

"There's nothing wrong. It's just she was so looking forward to this visit. Give her something to remember, always."

She looked at him doubtfully but nodded.

"I hate when you lie to me." She said turning on her heel and heading over to her mother. Still, she did as he asked, a long hug, silent and he hoped as satisfying as possible.

He didn't know how to react around tears, but he'd gotten better in these years with River. He'd gotten better at a lot of things. And once they'd left Karn he held her as the TARDIS drifted.

It was the only time he'd ever seen her cry. He supposed the only time he ever would.

They returned to Darillium and any time he tried to speak about a hint of a glimmer of a plan she stopped him.

"I'm a thread, Doctor. You pull me and it all unravels. Mum. Dad. Mels. You. The universe as we know it. We just have to see how this one plays out. No shortcuts. No opt-outs."

When they had one full day or darkness left he was beside himself.

When they had one full day of twilight remaining he excused himself so he could hide in the recesses of the TARDIS and weep unseen.

Finally, it was time.

"How do we do this?" She asked him quietly after having told him, "No tears.", after she'd given him the only goodbye he'd accept.

"We sit down here on the ground and we watch the sunrise and once it comes...you leave."

She nodded and he felt relief. He was harsh, after all, too many sharp pointy edges, he was the perpetual bad cop. Sometimes his plans were met with bewilderment or hurt or anger. But this one seemed to have hit the spot and he was glad for it. Perhaps it wouldn't break his hearts as much as he imagined. Perhaps he had prepared himself.

They seated themselves on the ground; she in front and he behind. He pulled her between his legs resting his chin on her shoulder. The world was already turning a purplish blue about them, he could almost see her face.

"There's a planet called GU Piscium b-" He began.

"Lovely name."

"I always thought so. In any case, it's located in the constellation Pisces and it takes 163,000 years just to make one orbit around its sun."

"That is one very long day." She said softly.

"Mmmhmm...it might have been half as much time as I'd have needed with you. I should have taken you there."

She was silent but he felt her lean her full weight upon him. He searched his mind and realized she had never done that before. Never rested like that, never trusted him to support her. Not even once. Another victory come too late.

They continued on for a bit in the gloaming as the world grew rosier. Dawn was covering everything in its blush.

"You'll look after her." She said suddenly and it was both a plea and a command.

"Of course."

"And you'll think before you speak. She's just a girl. She'll need you, she'll need you so much so don't you dare run her off. You do have a way of...destroying young girls. I know you don't mean to..."

"No, you're right. I do. I won't push her away."

"I don't care how many faces you trade." She continued, her voice quavering. "She will always be your daughter and first priority. You look after Amelia."

"I swear to you. I will keep our daughter safe."

She nodded in reply and sniffled.

"So, I'll never see you again?"

"I never said that." He answered and it occurred to him, this was the moment. He needed to complete the circle. "You've got the psychic paper. In fact, if you need me, just call for me like always. I promise I'll be there. With a kiss."

"I'm finding it very hard to be grateful right now." She said and he hadn't heard her sound so young in a very long time. And she was young, still so young, not very far past 200. Still a child, still fighting the universe and demanding it bend. Lessons taught by two stubborn parents and him of course. "It was never enough time. It's never been linear or fair or enough."

"I know, I know, Melody." He said using the name her never did. "I love you. I'm sorry I ever gave you cause to doubt."

The words tumbled easily from his mouth now. His throat no longer choked them off, his tongue no longer knotted. Though he suspected that her death, this death, her final death, with the one exception of Amelia, might rip the words from his vocabulary altogether.

"I love you too."

As the sun touched the horizon he was tempted to allow himself to indulge, to trace and track back through all the years. Their first meeting, Stormcage, their adventures, the triumphs and losses. But he didn't. He stayed in the moment. The moment where the breeze lifted her hair. The moment where he kissed her cheek and felt her sigh against him. The moment where he could feel her two hearts beating in time with his two hearts. All he wanted in this moment was the privilege of orbiting around her forever, for this moment to never end. He had finally figured it out; how to love without fear, how to love without mourning.

Stupid enough. Sentimental enough. In love enough.

If he was truly the sunset, the monolith, then he was admiring her back.

"I don't regret it. Not any of it." She said.

"Me neither."

The sun was slowly creeping up the length of the towers, warming the world and their faces with it.

"Happy ever after, Doctor."

"Happy ever after, River."

There was a surge of bright light as the sun reached it's dawning height, clearing the towers and shining unimpeded for the first time. He blinked against it, adjusting his gaze.

'That was-" He began but was cut off by the crackle of energy and the feeling of his arms, suddenly empty. "Beautiful." He finished.

She was gone.

And there he sat, silly old Doctor who'd been foolish enough to believe he'd prepared for the moment.

He stood up from the ground, his vision blurry with unshed tears.

He shook out his coat and dusted himself off before heading towards the TARDIS.

He opened the door just as the breeze carried the sounds of a great and uproarious chorus of shouting from the city proper.

The sun had risen. It was a new day on Darillium.

And the towers had begun to sing.