Someone needs to take Word away from me. I wrote this while I should have been sleeping.

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or anything associated with it. All rights to Doctor Who and affiliated products belong to the BBC and the other proper entities.

Summary: He blinked and she was gone.

Rating: K+

Genre: Angst(?)/Romance

Warnings: None.

Tick

He blinked and she was gone.

That was the way with a lot of people in the Doctor's life. They were often with him for so short a time that he barely had time to register them before they stepped away from him again. Some people lingered for longer than others, but they all left him in the end. And he moved on, pushing ever forward, meeting new people and losing them and moving on all over again.

The first time he met River had been a rush of fear and adrenaline. There had been lives in the balance, and now that he knows exactly who and what she is, he kicks himself for wasting all that time and getting those people killed.

But what was he supposed to do when a stranger knew his name?

But he'd blinked, and then she was gone.

She'd died.

She'd died, and he'd had to have been blind to miss all the red flags that his future self had been sending his way. The screwdriver. The name. The neural relay. There was no way he'd have bothered to do all of that for an ordinary woman, no matter how good of a friend she'd been. But still, he moved forward, feeling the clock in the back of his mind, counting down. He would find her again, she'd said. They would run together again. And again, and again. Over and over, until he knew her inside out, back to front and upside down.

So, as he walked back to the TARDIS, opening the door with a snap of his fingers, he smiled.

Now that he knows her, he counts every second.

The clock in his mind still ticks away, no matter how he tries to silence it. It gets almost deafening at times. When he's with Doctor Song, he rests a little easier.

But when she introduces herself as Professor, his hearts splutter a little.

Tick, tick, tick.

They're wrapped up in the sheets of some cheap space motel. River is sleeping as he counts the stars out the window, over her bare shoulder. She'd called him to help with getting out of a little trouble with a Telphish Governor, who had agreed to let her go only if he'd take her far away from the galaxy in the morning.

She's Doctor Song this time, younger than he's seen her in a long while. The last time he'd seen her, she'd mentioned that there was an expedition to a planet called the Library in the works, and that she was going to put in an application to be considered for it. He'd pretended to encourage her, while all the time his hearts had been twisting in his chest. The ticking in his mind had been almost deafening.

He pushes that thought from his mind. For now, she is here, and she is soft and warm and alive. When she wakes up, he thinks he'll take her to see the ruby-red waterfalls of Cloye. She'd like Cloye, he thinks. He's heard good things about it.

He has so many places he is going to take her. The nebulas of the Bufroi galaxy are particularly breathtaking. Regin in the seventy-second century is a particularly fine era for dinner and dancing—and the civil war will make for an interesting adventure, he thinks. And he wants to take her to try the wine from New Rhea, too.

These thoughts, of all the places he wants to take her, all the people he wants to meet with her, keep him going. As long as she is here, and breathing, far away from that dark, dusty library, and that damn computer mainframe, he plans to hold on with both hands. He'd take that infernal ticking for the rest of eternity, if he meant he could keep her. But he can't.

The timer in the back of his mind ticks away, reminding him that their time is limited, and precious. So, he keeps his eyes open and watches her. He watches the starlight filter through the curtains and make her skin and hair glow almost white. He watches the rise and fall of her chest under the sheets. He watches her murmur something inaudible in her sleep and shift a little closer to him, watches his arm adjust around his waist as she settles again.

His eyes are always open when she's around.

But he knows—he knows—one day, he'll blink again.

Thanks for reading. I know it's not the longest/best, but I'm tired and my meter has run out.

Please review.

Sparkly Faerie