This has been in progress for months, and I've finally decided to finish it. I'm still not done, but Part II of III will be up soon. The title comes from Lana Del Ray's song 'Video Games'.

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, or any of the songs quoted.

Enjoy, and please review.

The World was Built for Two
(only worth living if somebody is loving you)

Because no words wrench at his heartstrings like bad wolf.

[Look down, the ground below is crumbling. Look up, the stars are all exploding. -Kate Miller-Heidke]

Rose genuinely believes she's going to be sick. Her fingers grasp at the lever, but she cannot get a firm enough grip. The beast was right; the valiant child would die in battle so very soon. Her palms were already sweating, and combined with the slickness of the cold metal and the wind rushing past her at what seems like a million miles an hour, Rose knows that she will fall.

She struggles, fights, determined not to die, because dying means leaving him and she could never do that. It's hard enough knowing that he will never be able to tell her how he really feels (because Time Lords are stupid like that), but she promised him forever.

Forever suddenly condensed into seconds.

One hand slips.

Hurricane force winds make it hard for Rose to keep her eyes open, but she keeps her gaze set on the Doctor. He is shouting, reaching for her as best he can without letting go himself. Whether of sadness or from the harsh wind, tears sting Rose's eyes and she knows that she will not be able to hold on much longer.

She is left with a few fingers, and then those are gone, too.

Rose always loved the feeling of flying, but not like this.

The Doctor screams on her name and she cries for him, but she can't do anything but look into his eyes and pray that the end will be quick. Living eternally in the nothingness of the Void never appealed to her.

And then she is safe in the arms of her father (well, not really-the one from Pete's World). Rose looks back to the Doctor once more, and it breaks her heart. He fades from view in a single blink, and then she is in a room that looks exactly the same, but is missing the one thing that keeps her strong: him.

Jackie rushes forward to take Rose into her arms, but Rose pushes her mother away, turning back to the blank white wall. She has never known such pain in her life as she slams her fists on that wall, begging Pete and Mickey and Jake and her mother to open the walls of the universe and take her back.

If she beats her hands against the wall so that the bones break, will it dull the crippling ache in her heart?

She'll never be whole again, not when the man she loves more than life itself is stuck in a different universe. This was worse than the worst possible breakup imaginable, because this was beyond Rose's wildest nightmares.

It isn't until she finally collapses against the wall, sinking onto her knees, whimpering to herself that her family collects her as gently as possible and ushers her from Torchwood. This world is hell, and Rose wants no part of it.

She doesn't leave her room for weeks, sleeps for hours of the day because she can only handle the darkness.

Her world has ended, and she'll find no place in this new one-a world without him.

[To think I might not see those eyes makes it so hard not to cry; And as we say our long goodbye, I nearly do. -Snow Patrol]

A biting wind nips at Rose's cheeks as she listens to the waves crash on the beach. She can hear Jackie and Pete complaining and Mickey trying to shut them up. They all think she's crazy for hearing voices and leading them all to Norway (Norway, for God's sake), but only Mickey is polite enough to realize that they aren't helping her cope.

It has been the longest three months of her life, and Rose would just give up if she thought it would help. Staring out at the bitter ocean, Rose thinks of Woman Wept and smiles at the memories of her and her first Doctor, and of Jack and Nancy and Cathica. Jealousy nips at her stomach as she thinks of Reinette, Lynda with a Y, and Sarah Jane, which, in turn, fills her with guilt and sadness. She'll never be able to go to Sarah Jane for comfort.

Something catches her eye, so she turns and he's there. But not really, because she can see right through him and why should he tear apart the universes for her when he won't even say how he really feels?

"Where are you?" Rose asks without even a greeting. They don't need one. This will be hard enough without having to say hello. Every hello has a goodbye.

He sounds sad as he says, "Inside the TARDIS," but only Rose would know that because she knows him better than anyone else. Matter-of-factly, he explains, "There's one tiny little gap in the universe left, just about to close, and it takes a lot of power to send this projection. I'm in orbit around a supernova. I'm burning up a sun, just to say goodbye."

That damn word. But Rose thinks that might be the romantic thing she's ever heard, much less dreamed of, and especially from him.

"You look like a ghost," she says sadly.

"Hold on," his ghost says, then raises his sonic screwdriver to point at an invisible thing which must be the TARDIS console. The Doctor becomes solid and Rose takes a step forward.

She reaches her hand toward his face, "Can I-?"

The Doctor stops her. "I'm still just an image," he says. "No touch."

Rose lowers her arm. "Can't you come through properly?"

"The whole thing would fracture. Two universes would collapse."

It's selfish, but Rose can't help it. "So?" She gives a bitter laugh, as if that would make her sound more easily forgiven.

He brushes it off, just like she thought he would. The Doctor was always able to overlook her faults for her better qualities. "Where are we? Where did the gap come out?"

"We're in Norway."

He nods, as if he planned the whole thing. "Norway. Right."

Rose looks around the beach to keep from crying. She knows she won't see him again after this, and it breaks her heart more than she wants to admit. "About fifty miles out of Bergen. It's called Darlig Ulv Stranden."

Concern crosses the Doctor's face. "Dalek?"

"Darlig," Rose corrects. If there were Daleks in this universe, he would surely rip the walls of the universe apart. It's funny; he would do anything to destroy his enemy, but wouldn't do anything to be with the woman he-well, whatever he felt for her. "It's Norwegian for 'bad'. This translates as Bad Wolf Bay," Rose laughs, rolling her eyes. If anything, those words would follow her, no matter what universe she was in. More softly, "How long have we got?"

His face is difficult to read, even for Rose Tyler, when he says, "About two minutes."

She feels tears begin to prickle at her eyes, and gives a quick laugh that feels forced. "I can hardly think of what to say."

The Doctor looks behind her and forces a neutral expression on his face. "You've still got Mister Mickey, then?"

Rose wants nothing more than to feel his arms around her and press her face against his chest, smelling what she can't put a name to, only calling it the Doctor's scent. His hands must feel so empty. Hers do. "There's five of us now," she says, determined to make these two minutes worth it. "Mum, dad, Mickey, and the baby."

Shock settles on his face, followed by betrayal, concern, and confusion. Maybe even a glimmer of hope. "You're not...?"

Rose laughs, glad she was able to pull that over his head. "No, it's mum. She's three months gone. More Tylers on the way." And maybe that's not a bad thing.

"What about you?" he asks. "Are you-"

She interrupts him, attempting to play one more joke on him. He's so easy to trick, despite how clever he thinks he is. "Yeah, I'm back working in the shop."

He looks a little surprised, but hides it well. "Oh, good for you."

"Shut up," she laughs and smiles, but it doesn't feel right. "No, I'm not. There's still a Torchwood on this planet. It's open for business. I think I know a thing or two about aliens."

The Doctor smiles at her, and Rose thinks she might just melt because of how he warms her soul. "Rose Tyler," he says proudly, "Defender of the Earth." He looks around the beach, and Rose wonders if he just isn't able to meet her eyes. As cruel as it is, she hopes that his hearts are shredded just as badly as hers. Then she thinks of the things he's said, the promises he's made, and knows that he's hurting the same, if not worse, than her. "You're dead, officially, back home. So many people died that day, and you've gone missing. You're on the list of the dead. Here you are, living a life day after day. The one adventure I can never have."

That rips her to pieces, because it proves that yes, he does feel exactly the same way.

She feels like she's choking as she asks, "Am I ever gonna see you again?"

"You can't," he says softly, and Rose thinks he might cry.

"What're you going to do?"

He looks around him. "Oh, I've got the TARDIS. Same old life, last of the Time Lords."

"All on your own?" Rose asks, the tears falling now. He nods and she knows that this is her only chance to tell him-she'll never see him again. "I-" she begins, but cannot say what is in her heart because it's too painful. But it needs saying, so she cries, "I...I love you."

The Doctor looks torn, and Rose prays that he will say it back. "Quite right, too," he does say, and she nods, knowing she's made a fool of herself, but it doesn't matter. She doesn't care. "And I suppose, if it's my last chance to say it..." She looks into his eyes and knows what's coming. "Rose Tyler-"

But their time is up, and the universes drift apart.

[Explosions on the day you wake up needing somebody and you've learned it's okay to be afraid, but it will never be the same. -Ellie Goulding]

They have to sedate her upon her return to London. After days of riding across Europe in a Discovery, Rose's family would have thought she could cope with being home, being here in this universe. But it isn't until she saw her family's mansion that she lost it. She screams and cries, begging with her family to take her back-whether to Darlig Ulv Stranden or to her home universe, they don't know.

The servants phone Torchwood while Pete and Mickey wrestle Rose from the car, Jackie holding Rose's hand to keep her grounded (it doesn't seem to be working). Minutes later, Torchwood representatives arrive with a powerful soporific that will let her rest. The family will never trust anyone outside of Torchwood (who would believe that trans-universal travel possible?), so the advanced technology is a blessing for once.

Once Rose is out cold, Pete and Mickey have a much easier time carrying her petite girl up to her room. Jackie changes Rose's clothes and tucks her daughter into bed. She settles into a chair next to Rose's bed, afraid to leave her daughter's side.

Jackie knows heartache. If it weren't for Rose, Jackie doesn't know what she would have done when Pete (her first Pete, that is) died. Yes, she thought he was an idiot, and yes, she always thought he had a younger blonde on the side, but she loved him more than anything. She wouldn't have married him otherwise.

For the first time, Jackie wishes she hadn't been so hard on the Doctor. He always did his best to protect Rose, even sacrificing himself to keep her safe. Her daughter loved that damn alien, and Jackie wouldn't have it any other way.

She brushes Rose's hair with her fingers, and mentally notes to schedule an appointment for Rose to have her roots touched up. Sinking into normalcy will help Rose move on. This will be so much harder than Jimmy Stone, harder than that year when Rose went missing.

Because her baby's heart is broken and there's no one in the universe who can fix her. Jackie entertains the thought that maybe this universe has a Doctor who could save Rose, but knows that he would have told them if that were possible.

A tear falls down Jackie's cheek. "Damn you," she whispers, praying that the Doctor will hear, knowing that's impossible.

Time drags incredibly slowly, but eventually the curtains gain a yellow tinge, growing brighter every second. Twelve hours after they've been home, Mickey comes into Rose's room with a cup of tea for Jackie. "I'll stay with 'er," he tells the woman who once-upon-a-time could have been his mother-in-law. "Go get some sleep."

Jackie shakes her head, petting Rose's hand. "I don't wanna leave 'er. She needs me."

Mickey can't argue with that, so he sits down on the floor and leans up against the wall. He still loves Rose, always will. He knows that she doesn't deserve him (at least, that's what she would say), but that doesn't matter. They've been best mates since they were kids, and if she ever needed anything, he would be there.

Rose gradually begins to stir, and groggily mumbles, "Wha'd I miss?" But then she sees her mum's caked mascara and feels her own muscles, and she knows. It doesn't take long before she curls into herself, crying into her pillow. Jackie moves next to her daughter and rubs her back. Mickey moves to Jackie's chair and drinks his tea in silence.

Pete eventually comes in, and stands watchfully in the corner. He doesn't know Rose as well as he would like, but she is his adopted daughter, and he will always be there for his baby girl, no matter how big she is or how little she needs him.

Jackie says soothing things to Rose, and an eternity passes before Rose's violent, wracking sobs, turn into pained moans. "I love him, Mum," Rose gasps, clutching at her mother's shirt.

Her arms are wrapped tightly around her daughter, but Jackie soothes Rose. "I know, sweetheart. He knows, too."

"An' I'm never gonna see 'im again," she whines, and a new round of weeping ensues. "I'm never gonna see 'im again."

Hours turn into days, days into weeks, weeks into months, and then one sunny morning, Rose walks downstairs without being coaxed into it. She wears proper clothes, her face is made up like it used to be, and her hair has been tamed. Her family looks on in surprise.

She gives no smile, but simply says, "It's time." Rose rides with Pete and Mickey to work at Torchwood, and begins her new life. The missions aren't as dangerous, the aliens quite as exciting, but it's better than working in a shop, and better than wallowing in her grief at home.

After some time, Rose cracks a smile or laughs at a joke. She starts making friends and doesn't always need the excuse of work to leave the house. Never will she go on a date (her heart isn't quite ready for that yet), but it's a start.

She breaks down doors, brings dangerous aliens into custody, interrogates galactic thugs, all before lunch. Life is sometimes exciting, and with time, she doesn't always need to cry herself to sleep. Rose Tyler becomes Torchwood's best agent, not to mention a celebrity in the tabloids for being the Vitex heiress. She throws herself into work, never stopping to think about the life she left behind or the people she's lost.

And when the company asks for volunteers to research the cracks in the universe, Rose is the first to sign up.

[I know you have felt much more love than you've shown, and I'm on my knees and the water creeps to my chest. -Mumford and Sons]

He awakens to the sound of the computer saying, "Auto-destruct in two minutes." He looks around to place himself, but he doesn't understand. Professor River Song is sitting looking at a screen and at her wrist and doing things with wires that he struggles to comprehend. Why could she feel the need to attack him and render him unconscious?

The Doctor had been unconscious for approximately seven minutes, but his mind was still lacking clarity. He moves to stand, but is stopped by cold metal on his wrist. He looks down at the handcuffs and quickly says, "Oh, no, no, no, no. Come on, what are you doing? That's my job!" He shouts at River, and struggles against his restraint.

She looks at him with a slightly amused look in her eyes. "Oh, and I'm not allowed to have a career, I suppose?"

He looks between her and the handcuffs. "Why am I handcuffed? Why do you even have handcuffs?"

Professor Song grins at him, "Spoilers."

He is not laughing, and this situation is not funny. "This is not a joke! Stop this now. This is going to kill you! I'd have a chance, you don't have any."

She turns fierce rather quickly and snaps, "You wouldn't have a chance, and neither do I. I'm timing it for the end of the countdown. There'll be a blip in the command flow. That way it should improve our chances of a cleaner download."

Professor River Song is smart; he'll give her that. She's probably too smart for her own good, but they don't have the time to argue about it. He doesn't know who she is yet, and she is about to sacrifice herself for him. The Doctor will not let that happen. "River, please," he begs, "no."

She looks at him, sadness overcoming her features that had been so jovial earlier. "Funny thing is," she begins, her eyes revealing the betrayal she feels, "this means you've always known how I was going to die. All the time we've been together, you knew I was coming here. The last time I saw you, the real you, the future you, I mean, you turned up on my doorstep with a new haircut and a suit. You took me to Darillium to see the Singing Towers. What a night that was. The Towers sang, and you cried."

"Auto-destruct in one minute."

"You wouldn't tell me why, but I suppose you knew it was time. My time. Time to come to the Library. You even gave me your screwdriver. That should have been a clue." The Doctor looks around so he won't have to see the tears in her eyes. He feels terrible because there is no way that time can be rewritten like this, not in a just way. One day, he will tell her his greatest secret, and then betray her, all because it had already happened. His wandering eyes spy the two screwdrivers and her TARDIS blue diary sitting just out of reach, but he tries anyway. Sadly, she finishes, "There's nothing you can do."

He presses, "You can let me do this."

"If you die here, it'll mean I've never met you."

"Time can be rewritten!" he says, making himself believe it so that she will. Nobody else had to die today.

She became upset instantly, "Not those times. Not one line. Don't you dare. It's okay, it's okay. It's not over for you. You'll see me again. You've got all that to come. You and me, time and space. You watch us run."

But he needs answers, even if she won't give in. There's no time, and it's dangerous to know his own future, but there are too many loose ends, too many things he is impatient to know. "River, you know my name." ("Auto-destruct in ten-") "You whispered my name in my ear." ("-nine, eight, seven-") "There's only one reason I would ever tell anyone my name. There's only one time I could."

She gives him a sad smile as she lifts the two cables. "Hush, now." ("-four, three-") "Spoilers," she whispers, and it tears at his hearts even though he doesn't know who she is. ("-two, one-")

River joins the two power cables, and the Doctor raises his free hand to shield his eyes from the blinding light. When it is safe to see, River's body is inanimate.

As he runs through the room on his way to save River like CAL saved 4,022 people, he doesn't notice that her body is gone. Even if he did, he wouldn't know what to make of it.

[Here's your ticket, welcome to the tombs. -Regina Spektor]

The news is disconcerting at first, and then it just seems like another day on the job. And then it grows unnerving again. How are cracks in time and space even possible? Three months ago, the universe was threatened by gaps in the fabric of reality, but this is different, more serious, more frightening.

And Rose Tyler is frightened.

She thought she had been frightened that first time she was ever kissed. It seemed to loom over her head the entire time she was sitting in the circle during a game of 'Truth or Dare'. It was always said that the moment leading up to the kiss was more exciting than the actual kiss. Now she couldn't care less.

She thought she had been frightened that first time she ever stumbled into bed with a boy. She was sixteen, Jimmy had been nineteen. It hurt, and hadn't been very good for her, but it was a milestone in her life. Once it was over, Rose didn't feel any different, except maybe disappointed and embarrassed that she had been afraid.

She thought she had been frightened that first time she came face to face with a Dalek. Her mother wouldn't even know what happened to her. The Doctor hated the Daleks so much, that Rose couldn't help but hate it, too. But it had her DNA, knew her. It changed, and so had she.

She thought she had been scared when she was left in this universe for the first time. Even the second time she had been afraid, though she wasn't alone. She had been given the other Doctor, but it still was not the same. She loved him, but he wasn't him.

Now this was truly terrifying.

Rose stands petrified, staring at the jagged crack in the wall like it is the blue eyestalk of her first Dalek. Other Torchwood employees are screaming at her to move back, to get out of the way, but all Rose can see is the Doctor moving closer to the blank wall, trying to study it.

He had explained it to her before, but that was before the crack in Torchwood appeared. The first one had been found in a little girl's bedroom in a small village called Leadworth. It snapped shut before Torchwood could properly examine it, but the Doctor had explained it to her the best he could without having seen it. "A crack in space and time; two pieces that should never have touched, like the tangent line on a circle, but this is touching in more than one place, so more like a Venn Diagram without the overlap. Oh, never mind. You know what I mean," he said, and she laughed.

They were happy together. Living the domestic life without a TARDIS was not as difficult as either had thought it would be. They weren't married, didn't have children, probably couldn't even really be considered a couple, but it didn't matter.

The Doctor steps toward the blinding light, and Rose screams after him. He gets too close, and turns back to face her once more.

A week later, Rose kneels in the grass behind her family's estate house. She claws at the dirt, audibly choking on her tears. Rain falls from the sky, lightly covering the lawn. Thunder rumbles in the distance, and Rose knows Pete will be out here in a minute, struggling to drag her inside so she won't be struck by lightning.

But none of them know her grief. Hell, the universe doesn't know her grief. That crack in time and space swallowed the Doctor up, leaving no memory of him anywhere. He never existed. Rose remembered him, and her mum, Pete, and Mickey remembered him. The only explanation she could think of was that they all knew the real him, the original Doctor.

The rain comes down harder, and Rose screams out. This is the closest they can get to having a real funeral. After all, how can someone be mourned if they never existed?

She loved him.

At work the following week (because if anyone knows suffering, it's Rose Tyler, and she's plenty accustomed to it by now), Rose is pulled into a board meeting regarding the cracks. She spaces out, thinking about the Doctor, wishing he were sitting right there next to her. They always did get a good laugh out of the doodles they would pass back and forth to each other.

Rose accidentally knocks her planner onto the floor, and when she bends to pick it up, she sees an envelope slide out that wasn't hers. The front is labeled with his handwriting. She opens it and reads: Find him.

Someone-she thinks it's Pete-brings up trying to use one of the cracks that opens up to somewhere else as a sort of portal into another universe. Just like the last time, Rose is the first to volunteer. But this time, she isn't coming back. She'll give them her findings, tell them how to close the cracks, and never look back.

It will be hard to leave her family, but Rose can't stay here. She doesn't belong.

Hefting her rucksack on one shoulder, Rose quickly swallows the two ibuprofen she dug out for her headache. Ever since stepping briefly into the crack's light, Rose had had a consistent migraine. It seemed to be getting progressively worse. She just assumed that it was from being congested due to her crying. It would get better once she was with the Doctor.

Rose looks back once more at her mum and Mickey, and the rest of her family, gives them a quick smile. She steps into the crack, where Prisoner Zero has escaped from.

The crack snaps closed, the headache worsens to the point of breaking. Rose drops to the floor, unconscious from pain.

[I take a deep breath every time I pass your door; I know you're there but I can't see you anymore. -Ellie Goulding]

There was a time when he thought her room had been lost. He hated seeing it, hated passing by it, hated thinking of it, but it had always been there for him. (Not that he needed it to be.) When the TARDIS had had to delete rooms because of House, the Doctor thought he'd lost everything.

It's funny how unimportant something seems until it's gone.

But the TARDIS worked her magic, and that room is safe. It still hurts when he sees it, still hates passing by it, still avoids thinking of it, but it was there, and that was good enough for the Doctor.

The TARDIS uses it to get on his nerves. When she is angry with him, she'll place the plain white door with black scuff marks along the bottom directly across from wherever the Doctor currently is. He hates that, because she loved too, so it isn't just him. It can't be.

After leaving Amy and Rory in their new home with their new car following the minotaur incident, the Doctor feels particularly masochistic. He opened that door (number eleven) and saw his worst fear, his greatest secret, the thing he would never share with anyone.

And when everyone fell back onto their beliefs, the Doctor questioned who he believed in.

Once upon a time, the answer would have been her.

But she wasn't in the room, and he hated to think of her, because it made him sad. She was living happily ever after in the other universe with her version of him; they would grow old together-the one adventure he could never have. But he still wanted to believe.

As always when requested, that normal-looking door is there waiting for him. The Doctor hesitates before opening the door, simply staring at it. He is afraid. Finally, even the TARDIS grows impatient, and she gently leans until he is forced to half-stumble forward.

Gripping the doorknob with a clammy palm, the Doctor enters the bedroom of the long gone Rose Tyler.

Everything looks exactly the same as it did that morning when she last was aboard the TARDIS for more than a few minutes. Her clothes are still flung around the room, her shoes lying on the floor. Jewelry is spread out across the top of the dresser, only the pieces she was wearing during the Battle of Canary Wharf absent.

He takes a soft step further into the room, admiring the way she hastily made her bed that morning. Even the stuffed green Transaquypus he got for her on Chlamantheon is sitting up against the headboard. Her bathroom light is on, and when he peers through the door, the Doctor sees her makeup lying across the counter.

The Doctor tries not to linger, for it just makes him sad, and God knows his life is sad enough as it is.

Closing the door gently behind him, the Doctor starts the walk back to the console room. It is about time to go visit his wife.

[And all along I believed I would find you, time has brought your heart to me. -Christina Perri]

He hates her sometimes. He truly does. But he has no choice, no other options. The Time Lord has run out of time, and run out of places to run. This is the only ending, a fixed point in time. Even he would never dare to mess with the facts of the universe. So as much as he does not want to, he decides that it is time for him to marry River Song.

Maybe he'll love her in the future, but right now, he has to save the universe.

Angrily, the Doctor stalks to the edge of the pyramid and turns his back to his friends. "Amy," he demands, "uncuff me. Now." With his hands free, he turns back around with some gusto and starts formulating a plan. "Okay, I need a strip of cloth about a foot long. Anything will do-Never mind." With a smile, the Doctor pulls on his bow tie until it comes loose in his hands. "River," he says, offering her one edge, "take one end of this. Wrap it around your hand, and hold it out to me."

"What am I doing?" she asks, but does as he wanted.

"As you're told," the Doctor replies, obviously with more important things on his mind. "Now, we're in the middle of a combat zone, so we'll have to do the quick version. Captain Williams, say 'I consent and gladly give'."

"To what?" Rory asks, looking between the Doctor and Amy.

"Just say it," the Doctor snaps. "Please."

Rory seems flustered, but follows orders. "I consent and gladly give."

"Need you to say it, too," the Doctor tells Amy. "Mother of the bride."

And then things make sense. She rushes to repeat, "I consent and gladly give."

The Doctor pulls River's wrapped hand closer to his, careful for them not to touch until precisely the right moment. "Now River, I'm about to whisper something in your ear, and you have to remember it very, very carefully, and tell no one what I said." He leaned forward and, deliberately staying far enough away so as not to touch, whispers, "Look into my eye."

He pulls back and grins, knowing that she's putting the pieces of the puzzle together in her mind that could rival his for speed. Damn child of the TARDIS.

"I just told you my name," he lies (rule one). "Now, there you go, River Song, Melody Pond. You're the woman who married me. And wife, I have a request. This world is dying and it's my fault, and I can't bear it another day. Please, help me. There isn't another way."

He knows she has understood his plan by now and will consent to anything he wants. River smiles at her husband and raises an eyebrow. Finally, the flirting and innuendo might pay off. "Then you may kiss the bride."

The Doctor takes a step closer and says, "I'll make it a good one."

She smiles, "You better." And then she closes the gap between them.

Their lips meet and time begins to move. Able to touch once more, the Doctor pulls River flush against him and kisses her like he never has before because they would only get married once (well, technically speaking). She responds eagerly, and all too soon time is flashing before the Doctor's eyes and he is on the beach getting shot, in the boat being burned, and so many other moments.

But he is alive, and that is all that matters.

[It started out as a feeling, which then grew into a hope, which then turned into a quiet thought, which then turned into a quiet word. -Regina Spektor]

The Doctor walks quickly through the TARDIS corridors, banging on every door because he isn't sure which will be Amy and Rory's. If the TARDIS is on his side, he'll have woken them by now, but if she's on their side, he might have to knock on every single door three times before finding their room. He gave her a nice meal on the Rift a few days ago, but based on how she reacted to his tweaking earlier...it really came down to how temperamental she was feeling at the moment.

As if only human women have a certain 'time of the month.'

Giggling at his own thoughts, the Doctor is slammed into the corridor wall by the unamused sentient ship. He hisses at her, and knows that it will most likely be another twenty minutes before he finds Amy and Rory. Being mentally linked with your best friend (and worst enemy) was often taxing, though it did have its benefits.

Eventually, his knocking pays off, as he hears a groan from inside the room. The Doctor smiles as he bursts into the room, clapping his hands to illuminate the room. "The Clap On/Clap Off system was the best thing I've ever installed," he jokes, as Rory forces the covers over his head to block out the lights.

Amy squints in the brightness as she props herself up onto her elbows, looking down at the Doctor from her top bunk. "I thought we decided that the bedroom was off-limits. Besides, it's" (she looks at the clock sitting on top of the bookshelf beside their bunk bed) "six in the morning."

Not showing his face, Rory weakly agrees, "You're mad."

"We'll see you in a few hours," Amy says, clapping her hands to put the room back into darkness.

They aren't able to see it, but the Doctor rolls his eyes and claps the lights back on. "I think you'll want to get up."

"Why?" Amy questions without looking.

He smiles. "Because I got a message from your daughter." Amy throws off the covers and deftly climbs down the ladder. She tears the blankets off of Rory, and he moans in protest. "It came on the psychic paper half an hour ago. I would've been here sooner, but the TARDIS was angry with me."

"I'm sure River won't mind if we come see her later," Rory said, trying to pull the covers out of Amy's hands. "Why so early?"

"Because it's urgent, and I want to see my best friend's daughter."

Amy puts her hands on her hips after completely yanking the blankets off of Rory's bed. "Why can't you just call her your wife? Because she is Mrs. Doctor, and I don't think she'll appreciate that you don't seem to care about your marriage to her."

Rory gives in and kicks his feet onto the floor. Clad only in his pants, he self-consciously folds his arms over his chest. Amy rolls her eyes and tosses him his navy blue dressing gown.

"I thought you didn't like being called my mother-in-law, Amy," the Doctor says, knowing that he's already won the argument. She growls and pulls open the bedroom door.

"Give us time to get dressed, and then we'll be out to meet you."

The Doctor smiles as he leaves for the console room. This time, the TARDIS is forgiving, and he only has to walk a few meters before he's in the warmth of the room. Something was going to happen today; he could feel it. River wouldn't be so urgent if it weren't important. He ponders that for a while until Amy and Rory join him. They grab on for support as he throws them in and out of the Vortex.

Once they've landed at their destination (which, to be honest, the Doctor isn't even sure where it is-River has sent them further into the depths of the universe than even the Doctor has traveled), the Doctor sprints to the door and opens it. He can see River standing in the distance with her back to them. She raises her hand without looking and calls, "Hello, sweetie!"

Grumbling as he walks out of his precious ship, the Doctor asks, "How did you know I was here?"

She turns and smiles at him, but it seems a forced thing. "You know how I hate that awful noise. You're going to ruin the brakes, and I don't think that anyone in the universe can quite help you out to fix them."

The Doctor scowls and his in-laws laugh at his apparent frustration. He takes in their surroundings with disdain. Where the hell has River brought them? His mind briefly entertains the question of where she is in their timeline, but by the looks of her face, she's later than he would care to think. It breaks his hearts.

There is nothing he hates more than endings.

So when Amy and Rory embrace their daughter, the Doctor holds on to his hope that their end is not so near. When it is his turn, he pulls River close and whispers in her ear. She smiles, and kisses him on the cheek. River knows him better than anyone, and knows how much he hates their affection to be displayed to the public.

They are on the thin line of sand that separates the cliffs and the seas. Clouds cover any sun or suns that are in the sky, and the chemicals in the air are too similar to Earth's for the Doctor to believe they are anything but. River points to the cliff edge several thousand feet above their heads. "We're on Baratheon VII, and that is why we're here."

Markings are scattered all over the cliffs, the same pattern repeated over and over again. Dread takes over the Doctor's thoughts, but the others don't seem to understand. "The TARDIS isn't translating," Rory says, pointing out the obvious. His ship would never translate Old High Gallifreyan; they know that.

In the past, a message like this would have read hello, sweetie, but that is not what this says. "Hang on," Amy says, her mind catching up to the Doctor's, "we've seen this before, haven't we?" She looks to her daughter for reassurance, knowing that River played a part in the last two messages like this they'd received.

River shakes her head, "I didn't do this, that's why I thought it strange. You know I can't really read this language that well, Doctor. What it says doesn't make sense."

The Doctor stares at the cliffs unamused. The universe is playing a practical joke on him and it is unappreciated. He is too old and too sad and has lost too much for this to happen to him. But he knows River is smart, and she knows that something big is about to happen.

He sounds exactly as old as he is when he says, "What you think it says is what it actually says, River."

"And what is that?" Amy asks, but the Doctor can't tear his eyes from the stone. He makes no move to answer, and Amy repeats, "What does it say?"

River is about to answer, but the Doctor jumps the gun and cuts her off with a slicing gesture. He thinks he might be sick, but he doesn't want the words spoken aloud. He can't do this, not again. This message is full of hope, and that's the last thing he wants or needs. It's a joke, and a cruel one at that. He takes a step back, and finally turns away to take long strides toward the TARDIS. "We're leaving here, now. You should never have brought me here, River. This was a terrible idea."

"But what does it mean?" his wife asks, but he thinks she already knows and is entertaining him for continuities' sake. After all, too much information at the wrong time is dangerous.

"What does it say?" Amy demands, dragging her own husband along behind her until they're all standing outside the blue box.

The Doctor is furious, and a storm rages in his hearts, his darkness revealing itself in his eyes. He looks at River for a long moment before his eyes flash up to the stone. A song resounds in his head, and he remembers Daleks and golden light and a kiss to end all time. "Bad Wolf," he says before turning into the TARDIS, barely waiting for the other three to get inside before throwing them all into the Vortex and doing what he does best.

He runs.