River Song sat and swung in the Tardis repair swing under the console. She leaned back and watched the Doctor dashing around the console up above her, callibrating systems and talking to himself. Wild dramatic gestures and squeeky shoes as he pivoted on the glass.

She smiled.

The throbbing of the Tardis engines were a soothing background hum. The vibrations translating down the swing straps to give her a tingly subsonic massage. She leaned back and forward, gently setting the sling swinging, in the snug cubbyhole under the Tardis.

She could hear the inaudible mumblings of the Tardis in the back of her head. The sounds indistinct, but comforting, like a mother singing to her unborn child.

River tilted her head back, stretching almost flat out in the swing, her hair falling behind her, feeling contentment roll over her.

Home meant different things to different people. To her, it meant the throbbing heart of her "mother" as her husband babbled and tinkered and dropped things. She grinned as she heard the clang of a spanner overhead.

There was a silence.

"River?" the Doctor's voice floated down quietly.

She opened her eyes to see him lying flat on the floor overhead, his nose mashed to the glass, staring down at her with those soft eyes.

"Hmm?" She kept swinging.

"I love you."

The quiet words made her hearts swell. She smiled, and looked up at him. "I know, Sweetie."

He pillowed his head on his arms and just looked down at her. She swung. The Tardis hummed and throbbed behind them.

Home.

—

For more stories by this author click on "betawho" at the top of the page.

Please take a moment to leave a review. Thank you.