Disclaimer: Bow ties are cool, but plagiarism is not. I don't own Doctor Who.

He hasn't stepped foot in this place since that day.

Yet here he is, weaving through crowds of the 4,022 saved being evacuated, who were completely unaware of the emotional trauma one of their fellow inhabitants is going through by simply being here. There is no longer silence in The Library, all thanks to the courageous sacrifice of a woman he barely knew at the time, but would one day become someone very dear to his hearts.

Retracing the steps he took so long ago- yet in another sense no more than ten minutes- the Doctor approaches the balcony overlooking the magnificent Library, which in less than twenty-four hours will be forever cast in the deathly shadows of the Vashta Nerada. That had been the agreement: give him a day to save those trapped in the hard drive of The Library's computer, then leave the swarm to dwell in their home in peace. But it was not without sacrifices; the universe must give up the largest collection of books known to either man or alien, and the Doctor must give up River Song.

The aged man in a young body blinks back fresh tears. The loss of his wife is an old wound that continued to reopen itself each time he met up with her, and just a few weeks before it did so for the last time. But he can't focus on that now. There's something that has to be done first.

Taking a deep breath to steady his emotions, the Doctor braves a glance down. There it is, exactly as his former regeneration had left it. The sonic screwdriver he gave to River just before she bade him goodnight and teleported herself to her demise.

He picks the tool up with utmost care and, just for old time's sake, presses the button. The Doctor smiles bleakly as the ever-familiar whirring noise echoes across the planet, the blue light like an eye staring back at him accusingly.

"It's not my fault," he whispers to the object, though part of him knew he was actually just attempting to convince himself. "I really did try to save her."

Back in his younger days, he had foolishly believed that if he could avoid developing his foretold relationship with River that he could somehow save her. He planned to just dump her at the crash site of the Byzantium and leave, but both the impending adventure and the woman decked out in an evening gown and high heels were too much to resist. He just couldn't help but fall in love with her.

Then there had been the matter of Stormcage. If he were willing to admit it, saving time and the universe from destruction was only the surface cause of having River pretend to kill him. Underneath it lay the possibility that if he could keep her locked up in a place where time couldn't reach her, then maybe she wouldn't have to go to the Library at all.

That was probably an even stupider miscalculation than trying to stop himself from loving her. Like any silly prison could confine his River like that. But even so, when she announced at Manhattan that she had been pardoned and was now a professor only reminded the Doctor of their limited time together.

But he refused to give up. He always has another idea lurking in the back of his mind whenever his former plan fails- which happens quite a lot- and this one involved the impossible piece of machinery now resting in his hand.

He remembered the screwdriver River had at The Library vividly, with all it's updates and modern technology. It was a simple plan, yet quite brilliant if he does say so himself: don't build that screwdriver. Even the TARDIS had assisted him by supplying one with a green light when his usual blue had broken.

But of course, destiny had other ideas. The lovely green device he had grown so fond of was dropped in a lagoon of purple acid while he and River were running from a herd of rabid cyber-hippos. Don't ask... no really, don't.

So as a birthday present (the Doctor is so old now that he's forgotten when his birthday actually is, so River would pick a random day each year for them to celebrate it) his wonderfully infuriating wife gave him a brand new sonic screwdriver. Complete with red settings, dampers, and a gleaming blue light bulb.

The Doctor could only smile falsely as he gave River a kiss in what she thought was of gratitude, but was in fact sorrow. Her time was coming.

He was running out of options, but he still had one last ditch attempt to save River. Darillium.

In her final moments, his wife had told him that the last time she ever saw the future him was at Darillium, so all he had to do was never take her there. Then he'd never have to say goodbye.

But the ticking clock is a very resilient thing, and despite being a Time Lord he has never been able to truly control it. The first time he ever grudgingly allowed River to fly the TARDIS, she declared that she had always wanted to see Darillium. But the words had barely gone past her lips when the Doctor seized the controls again and took her to visit the ancient Mayans instead.

Although it was true that his pride wouldn't let River fly the TARDIS, there was another reason as well. He wanted to avoid the Singing Towers for as long as possible.

From then on, before each subsequent adventure River would always request going to Darillium. It became a bit of a joke between them, though only one found amusement in it. And the Doctor's reply was always the same: "One day, love. One day."

But the Doctor lies. If he could help it, that one day would ever arrive.

Back at the Library, the Doctor puts his wife's screwdriver to his forehead and visibly winces at the memory of the day his perfect plan fell apart.

River sauntered in from one of the many backrooms of the TARDIS, a sleek green dress hugging her hips.

Her husband swung around to meet her, his usual smile stretching out to a cheeky grin. "River, you're wearing it!"

"What, this old thing?" she asked suavely. "I've had this for ages. Some odd man with a ridiculous sense of fashion gave it to me eons ago, insisting I wear it."

"Well either way, you look lovely," the Doctor replied.

The distance between them quickly unraveled as River approached him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Only for you, Sweetie."

Then she kissed him with a fervent passion, and by the time it at last concluded his hat lay on the floor forgotten and her hair was even more mussed than usual, their limbs in a tangled mess where his could not be distinguished from hers.

"So what's the occasion, Professor?" the Doctor asked as he bent down to simultaneously pick up his hat and mask his growing blush. "I know you don't tend to message my psychic paper unless it's quite urgent. Usually you use more... creative methods to grab my attention."

"Well, I was planning on waiting to tell you over dinner, but I suppose I could just say it now." River paused for the pure sake of building the tension to the point where it was nearly palpable. "I got the job."

"River, that's amazing!" the Doctor cried as he swept his wife into a hug that lifted her off the ground. It wasn't until he set her down that he continued. "Of course, it would probably be even more amazing if I knew what the job was."

River laughed at the absurdity of her husband. "I'm going on an expedition for a Mr. Strackman Lux, the current heir of The Library. We're going there to discover what sealed it off from the rest of the universe. Just think about it: the one place with every book ever printed in history, dormant for over a hundred years and no one knows why. Isn't that exciting?"

The Doctor's smile faltered ever so slightly, but not enough to give her any notice.

Focusing on the TARDIS controls before him to hide his pained expression, he said, "Need I remind you that you're a time traveler as well? We could just go back a century and see for ourselves."

"For the last time, dear, I am an archaeologist first," River explained teasingly. "Like it or not, every now and then I need to do it the old-fashioned way."

But the Doctor was no longer listening.

He had tried everything, but to no avail. The stage had been set; he had his screwdriver, his suit- damn it all, he even got the new haircut. All that was left to do was open the curtains and begin the final show.

He had thought that when the time came it would not be quite as painful as losing past companions, since he knew exactly what was coming for her. But in actuality it was a million times worse, because despite his knowledge there was still nothing he could do to save her.

This was it. No more excuses, no more running. The end was here at last.

"Doctor?"

Turning his mind, yet not his eyes, back on his wife, he automatically replied, "I'm listening!"

"You didn't hear a word I just said, didn't you?"

"Not in the slightest."

With an irritated sigh, River repeated herself. "I said that I know of a lovely restaurant just a few galaxies away that we can go to, but I'll leave you to decide from there. Where would you like to go, Sweetie?"

The Doctor didn't answer for a long time. But when he finally brought himself to gaze at his beautiful wife, his River Song, a smile sad and sweet all at once settled on his lips.

"How about Darillium?"

From there, it had been exactly as River described it when he first met her. The towers did sing, and the Doctor did cry.

Just as he is now, no longer trying to hold back the tears.

It isn't fair. He feels like a child thinking that, but it's true all the same. Is it not the duty of the husband to love and comfort, honor and keep his wife, in sickness and in health, for better and for worse, as long as they both shall live? Yet that had been impossible for him and River to fully do when he held one piece of what they had been through together and she the other, but the two were never able to join together and become whole.

After over eleven hundred years in this maddening universe, the Doctor's seen it all. He's watched centuries go by in every galaxy, entire dynasties pass before his eyes, companions come and go- no matter how hard he's tried to make them stay. Everything comes to an end eventually, and he often wishes he could do the same.

But time marches on, and so must he.

He doesn't even bother to wipe his tears as he pockets his screwdriver, for he knows fresh ones will take their place as soon as he does. The Library is already beginning to darken; the Vasta Nerada are coming, which is the Doctor's cue to leave. And he's just about to turn and do so when his eye catches onto something as blue as the time machine it was modeled after.

River's diary.

No more secrets. No more spoilers. At long last he can take a peek inside and read of their times together, this time from her side of the story.

Grasping the little book in his hand, the Doctor twirls around on the spot and and races out of the rapidly darkening Library and into the safety of the TARDIS. He lets the Old Girl man the ship as he slumps to the ground, his back pressed against the door and the diary clutched to his chest like he had once clutched his wife. The Doctor hates endings, but for the very first time he's found a story that he wants to read to the last word.

And that's just what he does. Never moving from his spot against the TARDIS door, the Doctor reads the book cover to cover. As the pages turn, he learns more about his wife than ever before: what she first thought of him in Berlin, how she felt when he yelled at her on Demon's Run, why she had to hide the damage from him in Manhattan. Despite having been married to the woman for a number of years, this is the first time he really got to know River Song, fully and completely.

As he flips to the last page, the one he usually rips out to avoid the ending, he comes across an unexpected surprise, though knowing River he honestly should have seen it coming. A letter from his wonderful wife, directed to none other than him.

To my beloved Doctor,

As it appears we will not get a proper goodbye, the best I can do is a written one, just like my dear mother before me. You're here in the Library, of course, although he's not really you. But he most certainly will be.

One day the silly old man lying unconscious before me will grow up into an even older, even sillier man. It will take much time and many mistakes, but he'll get there. He will become the childlike man with a head in the clouds and a heart of gold, a treasure like no other in the midst of this vast, dark place we live in.

If everything goes as it should, this means that you've always know how I was going to die. I don't blame you, my love, always remember that. If anything, I'm sorry that you had to go through all our times together with such a burden on your shoulders.

And as I've told you before, don't travel alone. I want you to find someone new, who will take care of you in my place. I know you feel guilty about leaving behind those you care about, but you don't have to forget to move on. You just go out there and save the universe a few times, like you always do. The best way to remember me is to keep fighting for what I regularly risked, and will now give, my life.

But know this, Doctor. I love you more than time and space itself, and even in death that will never change.

This is the story of Melody Pond. And this is how it ends.

Goodbye, Sweetie.

After ever so gently closing the completed book, the Doctor brings it to his trembling lips and kisses it reverently. Their two time streams have matched up at last; they are now at the same point, and in the correct order. Time went as it was written, as it should.

He's not alright, and he won't be for quite some time. But he had always been willing to go to the four corners of the universe to carry out the smallest of River Song's requests, and he has no intention to stop now.

"Not one line." Glancing upward, the Doctor just barely manages a smile. "Don't worry, love. I didn't dare."