Ioch'ba's hand clamped over her mouth as heavy-booted footsteps sounded from around the corner. They pressed themselves as close to the wall as was physically possible, not that it made much of a difference if someone were to spot them. They were a few levels down from the Panopticon, which arguably took up more space of the Sector One Towers than any other facility, yet corridors they ran through stretched at least a dozen meters over their heads. It would've been enough to make anyone feel quite small, or at least question the Timelord's seemingly unnecessary architectural choices—but they were a bit busy at the moment to mind that.

"Ioch'ba..." River's voice came breathless and weakened from behind his palm.

"I thought I told you to call me Io." It helped the man to pretend shit wasn't hitting the fan when she didn't call him by his full name—not that it isn't obvious from the fact that she was currently trying to navigate the most guarded city on Gallifrey in late stages of labor. He took his hand away from her mouth as the footsteps of their almost-captures grew further away. "What?"

"We're not going to make it." Her hand tightened around the red leatherish pauldron on his shoulder. Her Gallifreyan was a bit rusty, but her tone got the message across even if her limited vocabulary couldn't.

"Of course we're going to make it. It's not much further," was Io's quick response.

"Io, I can't." From the few hours he'd spent with this woman, he knew admitting that something was outside of her capability was far from a comfortable confession.

"You're going to have to. I'm not going to be the one to deliver that thing," he hissed, still refusing to accept the situation. "I don't even know how to. Something will definitely go wrong."

"It's already going wrong!"

"More wrong, then! In case you haven't noticed—" he pulled her around the next corner, practically carrying her. " —There is no time to stop. We have to keep going."

River hardly managed to keep pace as Io pushed them forwards. It was hard enough trying to silence herself at each pain, but walking—standing was just too much at this point.

They came to a crossroad of hallways, a larger corridor intersecting they one they were in. Footsteps could be heard approaching again. Io made a dash to go across before they were seen, but at the same moment, River collapsed into her knees. Io looked back once he was across, hearts quickening at the sight of the woman on the floor. "Get back," he motioned urgently, the footsteps coming closer.

River dug her nails deep into her palms, knowing that if she made noise they'd only be found faster. Hardly able to move, she dragged herself a few feet back the way they'd come and pressed herself as flat as she could against the wall, just as they'd been doing before. It wasn't much help, she and Io both knew that. One glace in her direction and the lot of them would be killed on sight.

Looking determined, Io stepped into the view of the oncoming guards. River went wide eyed as she watched him point in another direction, "The Hybrid! I saw her that way. She's not far, follow me!"

Io started running away from River's location, the sound of many feet following behind him. River let her breath go as she was left completely alone with the unsettling feeling that she wouldn't see Io again alive.

She presses her head back against the wall, letting out a breath as the pain started to ease. There wouldn't be a lot of time before the next, three minutes at the most. Two minutes and fifty-eight seconds. Fifty-seven seconds. Fifty-six.

"I'm not going to die here," she whispered her herself, setting her jaw as she steadied her breath. Whether this was a promise, a prayer, or something else entirely, River wasn't herself sure. What she was sure of was that she would most certainly die if she didn't get a move on. "We're not going to die."

A lift was in sight at the end of the hall. She could get there in the trough between contractions if she moved fast enough. One minute, forty-three seconds. She'd have to be ready, however. If she wasted time standing, she'd be too slow. Getting that part out of the way now, she struggled to get to her feet using the wall to brace herself. Fifty seconds. Her knees still felt weak, but at least they were under her now. Eyeing the one perpendicular corridor between her and her checkpoint, she had just enough time to brace herself and make sure she would stay standing.

River tensed as the anticipated pain surged up with impressive speed. Her thoughts went white in a piercing moment of vulnerability. She leaned fully on the wall, fighting burning of her legs to stay up. One hand eventually braced against her knee and tightened around the fabric of her common's skirt (a disguise from earlier) in a desperate effort not to collapse again. She was versed, at this point, in staying as quiet as possible—an increasingly difficult challenge. She knew that holding her breath was unhealthy and she really should try to breathe through the pain, but something in her mind reminded her that it was still a better option than getting caught and killed.

After a minute she let out a slow, shaking breath started towards the lift. Alone was not how it was meant to go—none of this was how it was meant to go. Expectations had gone out the window days ago and why she clung to them now, she hadn't the faintest idea. The emotional strain her hope was under felt like someone was peeling away at her chest with a dull knife. Tears started to blur her vision as she stumbled as fast as she could manage, which was not very fast at all, over the pristine marble floor.

She made it into the next corridor and kept going, though she could feel the threat of the next contraction pull at her muscles. It struck fully just before the lift and as soon as the pressed the button, River was once more on her knees at the mercy of her body. It had very different ideas of what was top of the list priority and River could argue all she wanted but would get nowhere.

Panting hard, she screwed her eyes shut and leaned against the doors and pretended that she wasn't crying. It was easier when Io'chaba was here; the threat of another person seeing her vulnerable often kept any tears at bay easily. Additionally, she had the horrible feeling that he was in trouble. Perhaps she was projecting, but the thought was still terrifying on top of everything else.

The lift doors opened behind her back and she nearly fell backward, catching herself long enough to drag herself into the safety of the little room. Once inside with the doors shut, she pressed the emergency stop so no one else could come in. She also, at this point, realized that blood was pooling beneath her legs. It shouldn't have surprised her, she'd been bleeding the whole time. The quantity of it all in one place was still unnerving, but before she could investigate, another pain tore through her. She allowed herself to shout this time, curling in on herself as the sound echoed off the walls of the small empty room. Her vision went white with pain, then completely dark.

A banging woke her sometime later. Someone, possibly many someones, were pounding on the doors of the lift. Hearts quickening, River scooted close to the wall, trailing red stains along with her. There was quite a clear absence of a place to hide, so why she was trying anyways was an instinct beyond her conscious logic. Whoever was trying to get in obviously knew she was in here but luckily was having enough trouble getting through the deadlocked doors as she was trying to figure out a plan.

There was always a way out.

A contraction took hold of her and she cried out, slapping her hand over her mouth in reaction. The banging only seemed to grow more insistent. There was some shouting, too, but she couldn't make out more than a gruff, "we need to get to her!"

Trembling, River put a momentous effort into standing and having a look at the control panel by the door. She leaned heavily against the wall, panting as she tried to focus on the various buttons and screen. It was all in Gallifreyan, of course—not that she couldn't read it, but she did have to put the extra stride into translating the language for herself.

She managed to locate the button that released the emergency hatch on the ceiling, slamming it as another bout of pain brought her back to her knees. Profanities spewed from her until words themselves were too much and all she could do was hang on to the rail on the wall and hope the agony would pass.

The banging on the door persisted, each pound matching the intensity of her hearts convulsing against the bones in her chest.

There didn't seem to be any choices as of now. She was alone and quite sure that she was going to die any moment now, if not from the soldiers out for her blood then from the pain that wracked her body.

She looked up at the ceiling hatch that she'd opened and wondered where it would lead. It could very well be a dead end up there, but it could buy her time. Time was what she needed most right now (most days, actually, but right now most critically.) What she wanted most, however, was her husband. It wasn't that she wished him to be in this horrid situation with her, but if he was here at least she wouldn't die alone. If he was here, maybe they would've made it somewhere safer then here. If he was here, he wouldn't miss the birth of his child. At least he wouldn't have to see their death.

And if she could make it up there, then what? Would she be able to lock it behind her? Would she have enough time to actually pause and give birth to this child? Her body was screaming at her to get that part done with, it had been for a while now. She wasn't sure how close she was or how long it would take if she started pushing now, but she was sure that it was easier for the moment to hold her child in her womb and not in her arms.

Curiously, she reached her hand down and tried to see if she could feel any evidence of the baby's head. She cursed in her own language when she felt her fingers touch what had to be the baby, just a few knuckles in.

Shit. She really was going to have to do this soon.

Another slam against the door resulted in a dent River could see from her side. Trying her best not to panic or pass out again, she struggled to her feet once more and fought against her protesting body to climb out of the escape hatch. She just had to make it up there—it was her only option.

The doors were falling apart below her, the intruders only finding it easier to get through once the first dent was made. It was followed by another and another until someone wedged something between the doors and started to pry them open. All the while they were screaming for her, but River could hardly hear them over the rush of blood in her ears.

She tried to get a foothold against the wall only to find that the blood dripping from her had made it down to her feet, banning any aid of friction to help her climb. She tried anyway, her foot slipping each time and jolting her body violently.

She'd managed to get both arms out of the escape hatch, wheezing as she summoned any upper body strength that was left in her to hoist her the rest of the way out. As she did, the lift door finally gave way and a barrel of what she assumed were soldiers flooded around her feet. One of them grabbed her red stained legs and hauled her back down into to the lift. It wasn't a hard task, River's already weak body easily losing its grip.

This was it, she was sure of it. The hard ground would hit her back in seconds and they'd shoot her on sight and that would be it for her and her baby. A quick death, perhaps, but that wasn't much of a condolence. At least the Doctor wouldn't have to see.

The hatch opening shrunk away from River as she fell and she squeezed her eyes shut as she braced for the impact of the floor. Where she expected the slam of her back on tile, were a few "oof"s of voices that had just caught something heavy. Several pairs of arms were behind her back, she realized, and were lowering her gently to the floor. She noticed as well the distinct lack of bullets in her, which was not something she could always say truthfully.

She didn't have the time to open her eyes before she tensed again, whimpering as pain gripped her body one more coming too fast for her to remember that there were at least half a dozen strangers around her that may or may not have been about to kill her. She curled in on herself, the arms of the strangers retreating in a hesitant manner.

A brave hand started to push her skirt up and she instantly lashed at it, kicking in its direction.

A flustered string of Scottish curses told her in English to stop that before catching her legs and stilling them. "It's me, River."

She dared a peak out of her closed eyes, finding a weathered but familiar face quite close to hers. Her mouth went dry as a bone and she wasn't sure whether to kick this man again or kiss him. Words weren't even an option and she was pretty sure she'd forgotten how to make coherent sounds anyways. "How—"

The lights gave out above them, silencing River. She felt his hand slip into her shaking one, the other resting on her thigh. "You need to push, Riv."

At least he had some priorities.

She took a shuddering breath, briefly wondering how he possibly knew exactly how close the life within her was to being born. That thought was cut off by more pain, her senses magnified in the dark. She muffled a scream behind clenched teeth, thankful her contorted face was masked in darkness.

Voices around her sounded worried and she felt the Doctor shift into a better position, perched between her legs now. His hand never left hers, mostly because she was squeezing it too tight for his to move it.

When the pain released her she released his hand, gasping for air.

"That was good," the Doctor murdered as reassuring as possible, followed by a firm: "Again."

River didn't push at his instruction, her chest still heaving rapidly as she waited for the next contraction to do so. Her breath was the loudest sound in the dark, overcrowded lift. River suspected that a few people had stepped out for the sake of her privacy and to stand guard.

A brief flicker of light revealed for just a second River's exhausted expression, the Doctor's concerned one, and the swath of rebel soldiers behind him who all seemed put off by the whole situation. Then the lights were lost again and River was pushing once more.

It was minutes, but it felt like hours as River impressively continued laboring through the perfect storm.

He heard it before he felt it when the baby's head fully emerged. It was unclear whether River's gasp was from the sharp pain that resulted or from some level of awe at the fact that the baby was now only a push or two away from being in her arms and she wasn't dead yet. He decided perhaps both, as he felt her hand reaching and searching, to which he guided it to the baby's face.

She grabbed his wrist at the next pain, letting slip a groan louder and longer than the last. A weight suddenly settled into his waiting hands, warm and after a moment very loud. The baby wailed as he placed it on River's chest, proving that breathing was not a problem.

He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand since the rest of it is covered in something wet (either blood or amniotic fluid, it was too dark to tell.) His face almost ached with the enormity of his smile, but it dropped with expeditious speed as the lights briefly flickered on again. The two of them—well, three of them were alone in the lift. All the accompanying soldiers were gone.

The Doctor glanced around frantically as River struggled to sit up more, still wheezing as they looked to the hall. The lights gave out again, but there was just enough light from the hall to see the silhouettes of all the soldiers lined up in defense position. At first, it seemed that they were targeting something in the hall, but another flicker of the light lights revealed they were all pointing their weapons at the open lift doors.

One of the soldiers lifted an open hand in a signal for aim. The Doctor's stomach dropped, watching helplessly as the hand signal closed into a fist with the command to fire. He was certain that these few moments were the only ones he would ever share with his family whole.

The lift doors suddenly slammed shut just as the first gun was fired, denting the already beaten metal doors. River nearly jumped in shock, clutching their baby protectively to her chest. "What the hell was that?" she asked in the pitch blackness.

Firing of bullets against the doors drowned any answer her husband had for her. One bullet tore through the door and the Doctor herd River cry out with alarming distress. Just a moment later, the lift lurched and started descending so fast it felt like falling. Both of them shouted with surprise at this.

The lift didn't stop moving for a good minute and it did so with an impact hard enough to put both River and the Doctor on their backs. The baby was still making its destress known, half keening half wailing. River meekly sat up, making shushing noises at it. She felt the Doctor offer his coat and she quickly wrapped the cold infant up as best she could in the dark.

"You alright?" he asked.

"No," she whispered. "Not really."

"Me neither."

The lift doors opened and dim light spilled over the three of them. River and the Doctor truly laid eyes on the baby for the first time; A little girl flushed pink, still coated with vernix caseosa and attached to her mother through the cord. Her little face was scrunched up in defiance to the comparably cold air of the room and now the light.

River's own face had devastated tears to match their daughter's. She looked, quite literally, a bloody mess—the Doctor, stained with mostly her blood, could see where the stray bullet had lodged in the muscle of her upper arm.

A hand started to pry open the doors, the Songs tensing as they looked up reluctantly to the silhouette above them. It was River who broke the silence with a tone of recognition. "Ioch'ba!"

The Doctor was still on edge, half sure that this man was going to have the same turn of loyalties as the rest of their allies did. "Who the hell are you?" his question was in Gallifreyan again.

"A friend," Io murmured in what he hoped English but was actually a form of 60th century German. He moved aside so they could see what was was behind him: a TARDIS in its factory appearance. The Doctor also took note that this was the lowest level of the city, the same floor as the Cloisters and Vaults.

The Doctor looked at his wife, half hopeful and half shell-shocked. Her expression matched, though she seemed to be having trouble keeping her eyes open. "We can deal with the placenta inside," she managed exhaustively. "Get us out of here."

On her instruction, the Doctor scooped her and the baby up, holding them close to his chest as he let Io lead them inside the stolen TARDIS.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into the sheets of the cot. His head was by her hip, resting on the bed were she lie.

Their daughter was comfortably tucked in a blanket on River's chest asleep. She'd refused to let the baby leave her arms for more than a few minutes regardless of them having escaped Gallifrey hours ago—at least she'd let the Doctor tend to her wounds, which wasn't something River often gave permission for. Now she lied on the med-bay cot, bandaged and utterly spent, with one hand cradling the baby and one hand playing with her husband's hair. "What for, my love?"

He shifted under her hand, peering up at her with more guilt than she expected to see. "Rassilon—"

"You couldn't have changed his mind. You know as well as I do that he was set on the prophecy and self-interest."

"The Council—"

"Made that decision based on what their president was pressuring them to do."

"The alliance—"

"Were threatened with death upon giving us aid. They chose their own lives—hardly something you can blame them for."

The Doctor sat up on his forearms and scowled, frowning a hole into the sheets below his hands. "It was my job to protect you, River!"

She was quiet, gently touching his jaw and turning his head to face her. "That's never been your job, dear."

He shut his eyes with a shuddering breath. "My people almost killed you."

"But they didn't," she reminded, stroking her thumb over his cheek. "I did my dissertation on the Time War, sweetie, I knew where I was going before we landed."

"I put you in danger. I put the baby in danger because I wanted to show you my home… it was stupid of me ever to think I could go back."

"Doctor," she breathed so quietly that he wasn't sure he heard it. He opened his eyes. "Nothing you did today could have changed what happened and I don't blame you for a single moment of it. You are a wonderful negotiator, my love, and so well-intentioned." She smiled weakly. "But you'll never be able to control the actions of others. The day you do is the day you're just like every other conceited Timelord who wanted to be the rulers of the universe. You've never been that. You'll never be that."

"Maybe a perfect version of myself might not. I'm not perfect, though."

"I was raised on your imperfections, Doctor," she chuckled weakly. "I know that better than anyone. Your version of perfect isn't absolute. It's a bit vain, to be honest, and sentimental. If you're waiting for yourself to become all that then you'll be waiting a long time yet."

He finally leaned against her touch, putting his hand over hers where it rested on his cheek. "Somedays its hard not to think of all the people who are dead because of me."

"I know," River hummed. "But every person who breathes Gallifrey's air right now is alive because, some days, you refuse to accept anything less. It's not your place to judge the cost of that."

"And I suppose you're going to tell me where my place?"

"That's above my pay grade, I'm afraid." She took her hand back to herself, the baby stirring. She gently scooped their daughter up and shifted her into the Doctor's arms. "But I think I have a pretty good idea of where to start."