Author's note: Hello! This is a sequel to And the rest is rust and stardust. Having read it is not technically a prerequisite; however, there will be allusions to it, as it takes place in the same universe.

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Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove.

O no, it is an ever-fixèd mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wand'ring bark,

-Shakespeare, Sonnet 116

The sound of shrieking and gunshots pierce the air, echoing in a sick cacophony around the small, dingy room she's come to think of as a second home. Its nothing out of the ordinary, if she's honest. But when a hideous clump of green, acidic slime splatters a bit too close for comfort, River is left with no choice but to shout, "Get your head out of your arse and shoot something, Harkness!"

"Anyone ever tell you you'll catch more flies with honey?" he teases, a grin in his voice as he snipes off the most likely culprit of the slime now burning a hole in her keyboard.

River shoots him a glare that's melted the flesh off lesser men. "You're about to catch my foot up your backside if you don't get a handle on this!"

"Promises, promises, Professor!" Jack sing-songs, stepping firmly between her and their attackers. He's quick with a trigger, and it's easy enough to slow down the creatures lumbering in through the small door. It's the glass she's worried about. Any minute now they'll break through, and if that happens, even Jack's excellent aim won't be enough to hold them back. Right now, their only hope is four hundred thousand kilometers away.

"When you get into the mainframe," River shouts orders into the pixilated monitor, "make sure you set the return coordinates before you fry the system or you won't be able to get back."

It's hard to make out which team member is on the other end of the line, the poor reception causing the picture quality to reduce their faces to nothing more than a blur of worry and confusion. They're shouting something, some worry or complaint, but between the erratic gunfire and the hissing of static, she can't make out a word.

"Just get to the center of the hive!" River instructs. "Never mind the drones. They'll be useless without their queen."

"I know the feeling," Jack quips beside her. But the voice on the other end of the line is drowned out by the sound of inhuman screeching. An explosion ripples through the speakers of the com-device, followed by more frenzied gunfire and a few broken words before the crackle of static crescendos and the connection is lost.

"Do you copy?" River tries again, the edges of her voice fringed with panic. "Hello? Are you reading me?"

The line continues to relay only static, and River fights the urge to throw the useless device across the room.

"Dammit!" she exclaims. Out of luck and out of options, River finds herself thinking: 'what would the Doctor do?'

Eyes gravitating to her bag and the vortex manipulator she keeps there at all times, River knows exactly what that courageous, idiotic martyr of a man would do. And when he's not in the room, that means it's up to her. She should be the one up there. She has the most experience, and if she could get to the center of the hive, she's certain she could end this. Besides, surely just one little trip into space wouldn't hurt. Mind made up, River reaches for her vortex manipulator, all determination and defiance when-

"Whoa, whoa!" A masculine hand closes around her wrist, stopping her. "What are you doing? You can't risk going up there."

"It should be me, Jack. I know how to work the system. I can-"

"It's too dangerous," he argues, caring eyes breaking away from his target to pin her in place, reason overriding her impulsive nature.

River wants to argue that that's exactly why she should be the one up there, that she's been saving the world longer than these children have been out of nappies. But there's a small voice in the back of her mind that she can't seem to shake. It's small, and it's stern, and it sounds exactly like him when it reminds her that the stakes are just too high. She hates being the one on the ground. It makes her feel helpless and trapped, choking on the very air in her lungs.

"Have a little faith," her friend encourages, and River grinds her teeth in protest, biting back every instinct she has as she drops the vortex manipulator. She reaches for her gun instead, unleashing her pent up frustrations in the form of a furious hail of gunfire. Her efforts put a new hole in a few alien faces, but it's not enough to keep the creatures at bay. Bullets have barely even slowed these zombie drones down, and if the team doesn't do something fast, they'll just keep coming and coming, and they won't ever stop.

River's eyes scan the room for a way out. They'd never make it to the stairs, and the lift is too slow to be of use. The enemy is closing in on all sides, and here they are, pinned to the controls, their backs to the wall. Jack knows they're in trouble too, because when his eyes flash over to hers, there's a twinkle in them that she knows all too well.

"Don't you dare," she orders.

But it's too late because Jack is already stepping into the fray, drawing the alien's attention. They lunge for him like he's prime rib at a free buffet. River swears that if she had a penny for every immortal idiot she had to watch be the hero, she'd have enough money to buy a planet just for her shoes.

One of the younger creatures leaps onto Jack's back, tackling him to the ground. It's slimy jaws are open, ready to clamp around her friend's throat and put an end to that handsome face of his when River puts a bullet between its eyes. Unfortunately the action ensues the wrath of a few of it's uglier friends, as three pupilless eyes train their attentions in her direction. She's busy unloading half a clip into them when a sudden ear-piercing shriek fills the air. In unison, the creatures drop to the floor, lifeless.

The silence that follows is deafening. She and Jack's eyes are both fixed on the teleport, River's breath caught somewhere between her lungs and her chest.

Two seconds pass.

Then three.

And four, before finally-

The air crackles to life as three figures appear in the empty space before them.

Owen, Gwen, and Ianto step off the platform, and River lets out a sigh of relief, turning her gaze on Jack. "What are you playing at, Harkness?"

He dusts himself off, shrugging as he gets to his feet. "I was catching flies."

The grin he's wearing is so insufferable River has half a mind to shoot him. She might just, if she thought it'd do any good.

"You didn't tell us they'd keep re-spawning," Owen complains, sifting his way through what was once their pastry table. One of the goodies must have survived,, because his eyes light up as he scoops up a donut and dusts it off.

"Well, some things have to be a surprise. Otherwise, you'd get bored and retire. Where would we be without your wit and charm?"

The sarcasm in the air is palpable, but Owen simply scoffs, chomping into the cake as he says, "Speaking of retiring, aren't you getting a little... round for this?"

River's eyes narrow. "I could say the same about you." A brow arches as her gaze slips to the half-eaten donut in his hand. Owen frowns, contemplative eyes falling to his snack. River must have hit a nerve because in the next moment, he drops it and spits what was in his mouth in the trash. River smirks, smug as she tucks away her weapon and dusts off her hands.

"Next time," Ianto chimes in, "I want to be the one to hack the system while Gwen lays down cover fire. She nearly hit the wrong button and turned us into confetti."

"It had to be me, you numpty. Only the queen or another female can fly the ship. But next time, sure, you can decipher the alien language while I twiddle my thumbs."

"Wouldn't count on it, dear." River smiles. "I gave you the hard job because, well, when it comes to saving the world,"-a explanation escapes her lips in the form of a burdened, but altogether chuffed sigh- "women do it better."

River offers the girl a conspiratory wink, her statement only furthered when Jack adds, "No arguments here." Toeing at one of the drone corpses, he continues, "What should we do with these fellas?"

"They're braindead without their host queen," River informs him. "Put them on ice downstairs. In a century or so a new queen will spawn, and they'll reanimate. You might get some information out of them then."

Jack nods in agreeance. "You heard the lady, Owen. Get to dragging."

"What?" he stutters. "By myself?"

"Gwen has to go, Ianto's pretty, River's got a bun in the oven, and I'm the boss, so, yeah. Go work off those donuts." Jack grins, delighting in Owen's tormented grumble.

River shakes her head, amused. It's then her eyes catch sight of the time. It's getting late, and the absence of an alien invasion has brought the aching of her muscles to the forefront of her mind. "I'll walk out with you, Gwen," River announces, and the girl pauses, waiting for River to join her on the lift. "My bus will be here soon, and you know what him indoors is like when I'm late for tea."

"I'm happy to drive you," Gwen offers as River comes to stand with her on the small circle.

"Yeah, Song," Jack adds. "I'd happily take you home."

River snorts. "Thank you, Gwen, but I'll manage. As for you,"-River pushes the button to activate the lift. It roars to life with a groan, and River smirks down at him as they make their ascent-"I'm not sure I want you knowing where I live, Harkness."

A chuckle rolls out from behind that devilish smile as he shouts back, "I think you're just scared you wouldn't want me to leave."

"Oh, you'd leave." They're almost to the top now, and the grin River flashes down at him is just the friendly side of feral. "Maybe not in one piece, but you'd leave."

Jack's sparkling grin is the last thing she sees of the building before the lift reaches the surface. The perception field feels fuzzy on her skin as she takes in the outside world, calm, collected, and totally unaware that they were on the brink of enslavement only a moment ago. The streets are practically empty. No cars or pedestrians, just the hum of street lights and the occasional gust of wind.

"I'd tell you to be careful, Professor, but…" Gwen breaks the stillness, her playful voice fading into nothing but a knowing smirk.

River's answering chuckle is warm and wicked. "I'd never forgive you if you did. Now get home to that husband of yours."

Gwen casts her eyes briefly downward, a subconscious show of empathy or misplaced guilt, before looking back with a smile River almost believes. "You sure about that ride?"

"Maybe next time," River lies. "It's a lovely night for a walk, don't you think?"

Gwen forces another smile, nodding farewell as she turns to leave. River watches the other woman go, a dull ache stirring in her chest as she finds herself alone. It's almost pleasant, like that weightless feeling one gets right before they fall. Inhaling deep, River takes the plunge back into reality, stepping past the filter and into the Cardiff night air.

She hadn't been lying before. It really is a lovely night for a walk, and so she takes the long way to her bus stop, carrying along the seafront instead. Her gaze gravitates upwards to the night sky and all the stars she can't see through the light pollution. She misses them more than she likes to admit.

"It's got to have stars, River!" the Doctor exclaims, bouncing from one display to the other. "Oh! And a rocket ship!"

Her ridiculous husband scoops up a nightlight shaped like a rocket ship and begins flying it around the store, providing his own sound effects as he does so. River is left with no choice but to shake her head, too amused and smitten to argue. One could say she was becoming a bit of a softy, but thus far, no one has said it and lived to tell the tale. On her left, her husband is tossing all manner of squeaky toys and colorful rattles in the cart.

Meanwhile, River carefully and meticulously decides between a green frog onesie or a yellow duck onesie. She's always loved green, and come to think of it, a frog-like alien did cover her favorite handbag in mucus. Lips pursing, River's eyes drift over to the yellow onesie. She can't recall ever being assaulted by any sort of fowl, and the speckles of blue do remind her of duck ponds. Naturally, she proclaims the ducks the winner, laying it in the trolley and placing the frogs back on the shelf. When she looks up, the floppy-haired buffoon she foolishly decided to breed with is finally still. Somewhat alarmed, River makes her way to stand by his side.

"Did you finally short-circuit, dear?" she quips in a lovingly patronizing tone. In return, the Doctor simply smiles.

"I found it," he whispers, not taking his eyes off the cot in front of him.

River's gaze follows his to a plastic mobile with sparkling silver stars and ringed planets. "Just like yours," she hums, something warm blossoming inside her chest.

He takes her hand in his as they stand over it, the whole universe centering around a child's plaything. "And yours."

She's about five minutes late when she finally reaches her stop. It proves to be no matter because the bus is waiting for her. When Glyn looks up from his paper and sees her coming, he opens the doors with a delighted smile.

"What kept you late this evening, Mrs. Song?"

Stepping on the bus and making her way to her usual seat, River sighs and explains, "A colony of slime-secreting, brain-dead aliens tried to eat me."

"Say no more," Glyn chuckles, shutting the doors. "I've worked in public service for forty years. I've fought off plenty of brain-dead aliens in my day."

Lowering herself into her seat, River can't help but laugh. The older man is always enough to put a bright smile on her face. If he actually believes her stories or if he simply looks forward to the company at such a late hour, she isn't sure. Or maybe she just has a way with eccentric old men. But regardless of the reason, he never pesters or judges, never questions her impossible antics or pries into her personal life. He simply waits for her at the bus stop every evening and never fails to inquire about her day.

"You know," Glyn jests, eyeing her in the rearview mirror, "if you get any bigger, I'll have to start charging you fair for two."

River laughs, bypassing the fact that he hasn't charged her fair in months. "If he gets any bigger, I'll start charging him rent."

The bus starts with a jolt, engine roaring to life as Glyn pulls out onto the deserted road. There was a time she wouldn't have been caught dead on public transport unless she was stealing it. Truth be told, she'll always be the type of girl who prefers star-hoppers to quaint Sunday drives. She'll always itch for cheap thrills and daring escapes. The life she had before will always be in her bones, always hum inside of her like a favorite song she used to play on repeat.

And yet here she is now: no time travel, no vortex manipulator, no wine. It's enough to try any girl. At least she still has her guns. There were plenty of things she was prepared to do for this pregnancy. Things like give up sushi, heat lunch meat to exactly 74 degrees C, and limit herself to only 200mg of caffeine a day.

However, at the top of the list of things she wasn't willing to do was let alien dictators overthrow the planet.

Outside, a motorbike can be heard as it zooms past the bulky bus and River tries not to think about all the other things she's given up. Just a little longer now and it'll all be worth it. River's gaze drifts absentmindedly to the window. Between the flashes of streetlights, she can see her reflection in the dark windows, all round and glowing. Tender and loving hands rest over her belly, stroking the precious cargo she carries inside.

Maybe she has gone soft, after all.

A heavy sigh that feels more wistful than content drags out of her nose. Between the darkness and low purr of the engine, it's easy to be pulled back to the beginning, back to when it all went wrong.

"What sort of prophecy could scare you two?"

There's a hint of comic disbelief in Jim's voice. But the Doctor is grave as he responds, "The kind confirmed by the The Sisterhood of Karn.

Jim instantly sobers, clearing his throat. "And here I thought you two were here to ask me to be the Godfather."

"We wish it were that simple," her husband offers cautiously. "But this isn't something we can ignore. They will come after us. It's only a matter of time."

Time, their plaything, their ally, had turned against them. She's not even showing yet, and the universe was already plotting how best to steal the thing she loved most in this world. The news barely had time to settle in before it all came crashing down. They haven't even picked out colors, and yet they're donning themselves with war paint.

"I don't understand," Jim rebuts. "He's not even born yet. Babies... Babies aren't-"

"Dangerous?" River cuts in, her very existence all evidence to the contrary.

Letting out a long, dejected breath, Jim offers himself to them. "How can I help?"

"We need transportation," the Doctor states, and Jim frowns.

"Can't you use the TARDIS?"

"They might be able to find us through that. We're going to have to lay low for a while, just until the baby is born. If he's what they say he is, we'll figure out what to do from there."

"If they can track the TARDIS, can't they track you?"

At Jim's query, The Doctor's silver tongue falls silent. River feels it in the air, the twisting of the delicate thread from which his hope dangles.

It's then that River knows what has to be done, what they'll have to do if they truly want a way out. "Not if we eliminate what they're searching for."

"River," the Doctor gasps, hurt and appalled, looking at her as if she'd slapped him. Reflexively, River puts a protective hand over her stomach.

"Not like that, Doctor. But if we..."

He reads her thoughts in a way no one else can, because his hand tightens around hers before she even finishes the thought. "I'm not going to do that to you again."

"Actually," she lets out a shaky sigh, the words burning her throat, "I had something else in mind."

She'll never forget the look of confusion frowning his features, how it was eclipsed by dawning realization, how sorrow swelled inside those hazel eyes, and the furrow in his brows softened in a way that still makes her hearts ache.

A bump in the road shakes her out of her nightmares and back into the present, back to a warm bus and a friendly driver. Her mind always did like to drift to dark places, but when she feels the vehicle slow, she finds the strength to banish the thoughts completely. Her sweetie is just around the corner, and the sight of him is always enough to cure any ailments she may have, lower back pain not withstanding.

There's no need to speak up or ring the bell. Glyn knows her stop by now. And when the doors open, he tips his old-fashioned hat and bids her good evening with a toothy smile.

Cardiff wasn't her first choice to settle down, but the rift energy makes for an easy way to not only mask her genetic signature, but overshadow any residuals the TARDIS might produce as well. In all honesty, it isn't so bad. The job grants her a much-needed dose of excitement. The locals are nice enough. Of course, she's had better weather, but luckily, a youth spent in Leadworth taught her all the best ways to cope with quaint towns and dreary forecasts.

The night air on her face is brisk, the walk home always a little longer than it needs to be. The next street over gets her home a few minutes faster, but she's always much preferred the view of this one. The trees that line the street are strung with fairy lights, and there's one little shop she always likes to glimpse before she carries on home.

Up ahead, a whistle, far too chipper for such an hour, can be heard. River slows her pace to listen. It's coming from the little shop she adores, the one that's always the last on the street to lock its doors. She had worried her tardiness would make her miss this part of her nightly routine, but as she grows closer, she notices the door is still propped open. Leaning against one of the nearby trees, River can just barely make out the figure inside. She watches the doorway, a small smile threatening to tug her cheeks as the owner steps out onto the street to gather his signs.

She can't hear exactly what he's saying, but he's talking to himself, floppy brown hair falling into his eyes all the while. There's a jam stain on his shirt, and his bow tie is crooked, and every ounce of her being aches to tell him so. The word hello bubbles and burns in the back of her throat, begging her to let it escape.

But she doesn't.

She knows that when he goes inside and closes the door, she'll fight the urge to run across the road and bang on the obstacle between them until he swings it open. She'll want nothing more than to fist her fingers in his hair and kiss his ridiculous face until they both forget how to breathe.

But she won't.

Instead, she watches silently as he nearly trips on the step on his way back inside. River bites back a laugh, lest he hear her. She wasn't allowed to interfere, but a little observation never hurt. Well, that wasn't strictly true. Seeing him always hurt a little. Nostalgia was an addictive little ache, but she allows herself the indulgence because a glimpse was better than nothing at all. It isn't much, but thus far, it has been enough to sustain her these past six months.

Eventually, her clumsy husband disappears behind the wooden door, and River watches through the small windows as the light goes out. Even in this altered state, she still knows him so well that she can count down the seconds between the first floor light extinguishing and when the second floor bursts to life. Right on cue, his silhouette can be seen stepping into the room. The curtains sway softly to the tune of the night breeze, and his shadow grows larger as he makes his way to the window.

Her sweetie pulls them open with a flourish that makes a smitten smile tug at her cheeks. He lingers at the window a while, gazing up at the night sky like he's looking for something that just isn't there. River's eyes study the way his chest expands and then collapses as he lets out a deep breath, remembering all the times that very same movement has stirred her curls or ghosted across her skin. When her gaze drifts back to his face, she discovers that he's no longer watching the stars. His attentions have turned to the dull and empty streets, and River ducks behind the tree, oxygen stalling in her lungs as she hides from view.

He's been running around like a madman, frenzied, but focused. When he finally emerges from beneath the console, his arms are full of tools and wires and some type of helmet. The top step nearly claims him, but somehow he manages to catch himself before he sends the equipment clattering across the metal floor.

River sits in the jump seat, watching, waiting despite how every atom in her body vibrates to move, to work, to do anything but think. The Doctor refused to let her lift a thing, and on a normal day, she would have laughed in his face and done whatever she liked in spite of his protests, the way she always does.

But this time was different. He needed this, needed a task to keep his hands busy and his head away from what he was about to do. And so she let him fuss over her. She gave him this because they both knew it would be the last time he could. It was his last chance to take care of her for the next nine months.

His movements are a flurry of manic plugging and twisting and tweaking until suddenly, he stills, turning slowly to look at her like she's the only creature in the universe. Behind him stands a foreboding mass of wires and tubes and River can't help but think that the machine that's supposed to save them looks more like a monster than a miracle.

He takes a step toward her, and River leaps to her feet, pulled to him like dust into a collapsing star. He bends around her like a wave around a stone, and River lets herself drown in him, in how he smells of time and tea, in how his arms are the closest thing to a home she's ever known. She drowns, because soon she'll have to live without.

Time is of the essence, but he always finds a few spare moments to give to her, a precious few seconds off which she can live and keep close to her hearts in the cold nights ahead. He doesn't speak, but his kiss is worth a thousand words. It's sweeter than any fond farewell. More meaningful than any poetic declaration of love. She wraps herself around him, holding tight to ward off the knowledge that this is the last time she'll taste him for months, that the comfort of his embrace won't be waiting for her every single day. His arms around her are more solid than the ground at her feet, and for a moment, she wonders if her knees will hold her when he lets her go.

But then she remembers who she is. She has to stand her ground, has to be strong, because if she doesn't, there will be no one to bring him back. Even so, he's the one to break the kiss, pulling back enough to gaze into her eyes. His cheeks are wet, and her fingers coil around his forearms to keep him from slipping away.

A calloused thumb strokes over the apple of her cheeks, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards in a sad smile as they both pretend not to notice the tears.

"I have to do this," he sates, voice so fragile it sounds more like a question.

The hands cradling her face give her strength enough to nod, her nails biting into his skin just a little harder as she says, "I know."

It has to be him this time, she knows. It makes sense for her to be the one to stay behind. They learned a long time ago that she was far more formidable with her memories intact. Being a trained assassin did have its perks occasionally, and should things go wrong, they'd need all the protection they could get.

The Doctor presses his forehead to hers, his eyes clenched shut. She wishes they were open, wishes she could get one last look into that swirling pool of hazel. There's a piece of her, a dark, selfish side she likes to keep hidden, that burns with protest. It aches, and it screams that this isn't fair, that they've paid their dues. After all they've done, everything they've fought against and all the things they've fought to protect, the universe owes them a fate better than this one. But life is hardly ever fair.

River shuts her eyes, remembering what they're fighting for and how far they've come. Resolve settles in her veins, and she knows that if they want their happy ending, they'll have to go just a little bit further. She's rooted in place when his fingers finally slip from her face, taking her breath and a piece of her hearts with him as he grabs the fob watch and steps back and into position. "I'll come back to you," he promises.

A laugh that feels more like a sob escapes her lips as she demands, "You better."

After a moment, River peaks back around from behind her shelter to find his curtains are closed, the windows locked. And when the bedroom light goes off, plunging the building into darkness, her husband feels a million miles away again.

Hearts somewhere in her throat and their child nestled safely in her belly, River lets out a long sigh. There's nothing left to keep her company except softly twinkling fairy lights, nothing around to see or hear her but the night wind, and yet River can't help but whisper, "Goodnight, sweetie."