A/N: This one is angsty, folks. It's also mature and fluffy. And, finally, this is the end of Part II. There's still a WHOLE THIRD PART COMING. Don't give up just yet - the Doctor hasn't!

Almost the second he arrives, he knows he'll have to leave. The timelines are choking him with possibilities, their weight so heavy that he isn't certain how he'll stand under them.

He drags himself to River's front porch, where he sinks down onto the steps, head in his hands.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

He wanted more time than this. He's been off exploring and putting it off and he's just missed her so terribly.

Now it feels as though he's too late. He's missed her, and he's not certain he'll ever get a chance to spend his time with his wife again. So much wasted time.

River finds him there when she comes out to head to the university, desolate on her porch, too weary to lift his head at her footsteps for fear that she's already a ghost his mind is conjuring up to replace her and stave off the madness of eternity without River.

"Sweetie?"

When he doesn't reply she sits next to him, her warmth not quite reaching him across the gap. "What's happened, Doctor?"

"Nothing," he bites out a hysterical laugh. But that's not right. "Everything."

River gently, but firmly, takes hold of his hand, lifting it from his face and tugging him up to stand. "Let's go inside."

As soon as she touches him the timelines coalesce from infinities into River. She is here with him, real and solid, and he'd promised he wouldn't do this again. The Doctor manages a shaky smile as he follows her, pliant in River's competent hands.

River shuts the door firmly behind them and leads him past the shiny new bookshelf, carefully masking the painting he made of her, and already full of dusty archaeological tomes. Past the kitchen, with the lone mug in the sink reading archaeology is a load of rubbish! with the stylized cartoon artifacts that he'd surprised her with after her first degree. He'd been so proud of himself for the pun and prouder still of River's accomplishments - proud enough to purchase something associated with the word archaeology.

They have memories together, now, in her house. Their house. Memories that sustain him until River guides them into their bedroom, still freshly copied from the TARDIS and relocated with only a bit of cheating time and space.

River gives him a little shove, and the Doctor sits on their bed, head bowed and still struggling to maintain an emotion other than despair. The bed dips as River joins him, her shoulder bumping his. He leans into her, resting his head against hers and burying his face into her hair.

Her hand twines with his again, their fingertips laced across her lap. River kicks off her shoes and drops her bag to the floor, sighing. "When's the last time you slept, my love?"

Longer ago than he's willing to admit to. The last time he shared her bed, certainly. Not that the Doctor has any intention of wasting their limited time together sleeping. Sleep is just how time steals away lives, and the Doctor will not be cheated out of any time with River.

Shoving the timelines - the terrible, too-fast click of a universal clock - out of his head, the Doctor brushes River's hair back from her neck and presses his lips to her pulse. The ends of her curls are still damp from her shower and she smells of bergamot, orange blossoms, and just a hint of mint from her bath products. "Not tired," he murmurs, fingertips tracing constellations across River's palm.

He can feel her pulse flutter, the soft hitch to her breath as her fingers curl around his. "Something else, then?" It's not really a question.

River lets him press her back into the plush coverlet, sprinkled with a handful of the stars they've visited.

The Doctor removes his coat and shoes and perches on the bed next to River, where he can watch her soft breaths and see the concern crinkling at the corners of her eyes. He traces a fingertip across her brow and temple, pausing to cup her cheek in his palm before resuming his path over her nose, lips, chin. "You're beautiful," it slips out on an exhale.

"Flatterer," River accuses mildly, but her eyes are soft and pleased.

She reaches for him, but the Doctor catches her hands in his own, pressing them down against the stars. "Let me?"

River nods, her hands relaxing under his. "I'm all yours."

Oh, and he is utterly hers. Always and completely. No matter how long he lives, the Doctor's hearts will always belong next to River's. He gave them to her long ago and never once looked back. Not one line.

He takes his time stripping off her academic attire. Peeling away the layers to reveal the real River underneath. He lingers over each button on her blouse, hands reverently following the path of revealed skin as he undoes her. River arches up to help shrug it off, and he glides his palms over the skin of her arms and around her waist, drawing her close for a kiss that trembles with their need - hot breaths and thrusting tongues.

Shirt discarded, the Doctor moves next to River's bra, unsnapping it and letting the lace fall between them before he nudges River gently back against the bed, reluctantly breaking their embrace.

His fingers graze across her nipples before sliding lower, caressing every mark and freckle scattered across River's skin until she trembles under his touch.

When he reaches the waistband of her skirt, River arches her hips up eagerly with a low sound of encouragement, and the Doctor trails his hands across her bottom and to the zip, edging it down. As soon as it is undone, River is wriggling out of her skirt and kicking it aside, her bra getting lost somewhere along the way.

At last, she is spread naked before him, all glorious curls and snapping eyes and heaving breasts. He would love River in whatever body she chose to wear, but this is the body he has loved for untold centuries, and he cannot deny that it is brilliant. Stunning. "Gorgeous."

He traces the Gallifreyan over one hip and then the other, and only then does he realize he's been speaking in his native language. If the words trip over his tongue it is only because seeing her before him, so beautiful and brazen and trusting, makes him want to weep.

Instead, the Doctor presses his lips to her soft skin - remapping the path of his fingers from her throat to her breasts. He takes one nipple in his mouth, laving it with attention until River moans and writhes under him, and he catches the puckered skin in his teeth to make her gasp before shifting to the other breast and lavishing it with kisses and nips, tasting every inch of her skin.

He kisses each rib, alternating sides, and dips his tongue in her navel to watch River squirm deliciously. By the time he presses his lips to her left hip, River tastes less of soap and more of herself, sweat beading along her skin, and her moans already growing desperate.

The Doctor settles between her wantonly spread legs, lacing their fingers together. He pays homage to her right hip first, lifting his head long enough to take in River's heavy-lidded eyes and bitten lips. Her breath catches and holds as he slides his tongue through the coarser curls at the apex of her thighs, already slippery wet.

The first hot rush of her taste against his tongue leaves him panting, his blood pounding in time to her moans. Time and home and River - that unique piece of her he can never quite pin down.

The Doctor takes his time, savoring every sound River makes and the way her hands clench at his as he explores her, nudging his tongue against all her most sensitive spots. He spreads her slowly open, nibbling and licking and tasting.

"And you call me a tease," River complains around a whimper, her fingers digging into his skin and her back arching up off the bed.

The Doctor hums noncommittally against her, listening to her breath hitch as he does so. He never tires of the evocative noises River makes, each one uninhibited and decadent. When he points his tongue and thrusts it inside her, flicking the tip against her slippery walls, River's response is a choked sound of pleasure, low in her throat.

He keeps his strokes slow and thorough, his nose nudging against River's clit and his hands gripping hers. She rocks her hips impatiently and the Doctor lets her engulf him, swallowing his own whimper, drenched in her.

They move together ever faster, the Doctor licking and thrusting and nudging River closer to her release as she rolls her hips up, thighs, hands, sex all gripping him, demanding more.

He strokes the spot inside her that leaves her whole body trembling, shaking him with her, and River's moans pitch to a scream, her orgasm flooding his mouth in a delicious rush that leaves him light-headed.

The Doctor laps leisurely at River, letting her come down gently, loath to move from between her legs.

River sucks in a long breath, her thighs falling open and her hands tugging at his. "Come up here."

When he doesn't move, nuzzling his cheek against her thigh and watching her through his fringe, River pokes a toe between his ribs, unerringly finding his most ticklish spot without looking.

The Doctor jumps and glares briefly, but he can't even pretend to be anything other than smitten when he looks at her. He crawls slowly up River's body, letting her hands tangle in his hair as she pulls him down for a greedy kiss, and they bask in each other.

River nips at the Doctor's bottom lip as they strip off his clothing, impatient. The Doctor tosses his bowtie and waistcoat to the side, popping buttons on his shirt in his haste, while River shoves his trousers unceremoniously to his knees. He wiggles out of his trousers and toes off his socks until at last they are both naked, the length of his body pressed against River's.

River hums encouragingly, her tongue stroking sinuously across his. She hooks one leg around his waist and tugs him closer still, until his cock brushes against her damp curls and slick flesh.

The Doctor shudders, his whole body tingling with arousal. They shift their hips together until he just nudges at her entrance, and the Doctor catches River's hands before she can haul him closer. He pins her wrists above her head with one hand as he slips inside the tight wet heat of her, a groan stifled against her lips.

They part for breath and he dips his head to her neck and breasts, tasting the sweat on her skin as they rock their hips together, quickly finding a rhythm that leaves them both moaning. The bliss of being inside her leaves his whole body throbbing, his hearts racing double-time. "River," he manages her name on a shaky exhale against her breast.

"God, sweetie," River's wrists flex in his hand, her whole body taut as she arches up into him.

He lifts his head and her eyes catch his and hold him there. On his next long thrust, he rests his forehead against River's, so close that he can see the flecks of green and gold and blue dancing across her irises. Her eyes are full of ages and lives and so much love that the Doctor wants to shy away. He never feels that he deserves River's devotion. He's just a madman in a box and she's - she's the best thing that has ever happened to him.

River's leg tightens around his hips, her eyes darkening with lust and her mouth open to pleased little sighs. Each thrust sends reverberations sparking down to his toes, tangled in the bedding. They've set a slow, deep rhythm that somehow brings them closer every time they come together, as though they are slowly becoming one whole.

The moments stretch into infinities, wrapped up in ecstasy and River. They are pressed as close together as they can get, her breasts pillowing his chest, her thighs cradling his, one of her legs drawing him closer and the other brushing his.

The Doctor releases River's wrists to take her hand again, intertwining their fingers as well. Her free hand brushes his hair back, trailing across his face and cupping his jaw, her thumb brushing across his lips.

"It's all right, my love," River whispers between gasps, "let go."

It's her eyes that drag him over the edge, full of lust and love and forgiveness. His fingers tighten around hers and his body thrums, thrusting with abandon that gives way to an explosion of ecstasy, radiating through his body and leaving his limbs leaden and exhausted.

River follows him, eyes wide and mouth open around a ragged moan, body clinging to his, wringing him of everything.

He collapses over her, head buried in the soft crook of her neck, her curls blanketing him. River's free hand slides across his sweat-slicked back, fingertips tracing his spine.

The Doctor's body and mind feel melted, cocooned in the safety of River. He's content to never move again. He can feel River's hearts racing under his, their breathing synced and their bodies slowly cooling.

Once their breathing has evened and their pulses have slowed, River's hand squeezes his gently. "Tired yet?"

The Doctor nuzzles his nose into her neck. He is worn down to the bone, but that's not the point. "Not sleepy," he mumbles, the words lost to her skin. The English feels sharp and clunky on his tongue after slipping back into Gallifreyan for so long.

River chuckles, the sound infused with a post-orgasmic huskiness that makes one of his hearts skip a beat. "Resist all you like - I have all day to wear you out, Time Lord."

The Doctor snorts at her teasing, though he can't deny that the idea of spending the whole day in bed with River has considerable appeals. They don't often get that much uninterrupted time, just the two of them together, between their general wanderlust and River's lectures. The Doctor lifts his head to regard River. "Don't you have a lecture?"

River stretches under him, and the Doctor lets go of her hand, obligingly shifting to her side to curl around her and rest his head over her left heart. She cards her fingers through his hair, unconcerned. "I'll call out sick."

"Liar," he accuses one-heartedly, a glutton for as much time with her as he can manage. He should probably feel worse about stealing her away from her work, which he knows she loves, but all he can think is that her calling out is a brilliant idea, and he doesn't know why she hasn't done so sooner.

"Hardly. I'm not sure I can move, let alone give a lecture," River counters, wriggling out from under him. "Now budge over a moment, sweetie, and then I'm all yours."

Grinning, he reluctantly breaks the contact between them, flopping over to his side of the bed and watching River openly, wondering how she manages to be more beautiful every time he looks at her. "I thought you were already mine?"

"Yes, and you're rubbish at sharing." River casts a searching look about the room before sighing and snagging the Doctor's shirt from where it is draped across the nightstand. She buttons the remaining two middle buttons and rolls up the sleeves before rescuing her PDA from where it has fallen, wedged between the nightstand and the bed. "How do I look?"

The Doctor stretches out, fingertips brushing her bare thighs, and considers. He can't help being a little smug at the question. Not when she's wearing his shirt, only partially buttoned, and nothing else. All her carefully coiled curls loose and large, tangled from his hands and the sheets. "Thoroughly shagged."

River huffs, smacking his bare shoulder despite the grin tugging at her lips. "Well, that will never do."

She closes her eyes, face a perfect mask of concentration, and when she opens them again, she looks so utterly miserable that the Doctor shoots upright in alarm. "River! What is it?"

"Oh, stop fussing - I'm only faking," River sounds perfectly normal as she shoves him back down to the bed and drags the covers over his head. "Now, stay still a moment."

It's actually a bit disturbing how devastated River appears, so easily. The Doctor keeps his mouth shut and limbs still with effort, worrying. He wonders if it's the cracks being allowed through, where all that damage would usually be neatly tucked away. It can't have been difficult for River to find a memory to make her so miserable - the Doctor winces at the thought - and he can only hope it wasn't one of him. He's been selfish, and he absolutely will not add to her pile of bad things today. Today will be only good things.

Unaware of his duress, River rings through to the university, calling out as she had promised. There's a dial tone, and then the person on the other end picks up. "Hello, Doctor Song, what can I -" there's a pause, as the woman looks up, "oh, my - is everything quite all right, dear?"

"Hello, Andrea. I'm terribly sorry, but I've only woke up just now," River lies easily, her voice shaky and stuffy, as though every word pains her, "and I don't think I can make it out of bed today. Hopefully I'll be back on my feet by tomorrow."

He can hear the double entendre in River's excuses, even if Andrea can't. Certainly, the Doctor has absolutely no intention of letting her out of their bed today.

"Take all the time you need, dear - I'll send out the cancellation notice for your lecture. I hope that husband of yours is taking good care of you!"

The Doctor can perfectly visualize the smirk that River must be hiding behind her mask of misery as she replies, "Oh, he is," and ends the video-call with the usual benign pleasantries.

As soon as the Andrea has hung up, River ducks under the covers, slithering down until she's face to face with the Doctor. Her expression has returned to one of indolent content, though her eyes are still flashing mischievously. "There now - I've officially skived off. What shall we do?"

It's impossible to brood, cocooned under the sheets with a playful River grinning at him. The Doctor grins back, tracing his fingers over River's cheek and down her neck, following the collar of his shirt until he reaches the top button. He has to admit - it looks better on her. "I believe I've been sworn to keep you in bed and off your feet."

River's hand settles over his, pressing them against her breast - over her right heart. "You do - you know - take good care of me." She arches one eyebrow, teasing again, "Especially when I'm faking my illness."

He rolls over her, pinning her underneath him and dropping kisses across her neck and chest. River squirms under his devotions, her pulse racing under his lips. Once he's certain he can keep his voice light, the Doctor lifts his head and promises, "I'm your husband - it's my job to see to your every whim."

River drags him into a messy kiss, her teeth nipping at his lip. When she releases him, River licks her lips and drags her nails down his spine, smirking when the Doctor shivers. "Oh, I feel very thoroughly seen to."

Supporting himself on one arm, his free hand sneaks under his shirt to cup River's breasts in turn, squeezing them, and River makes a soft, surprised sound of encouragement. The Doctor teases her nipples to attention before exploring the rest of her form in broad strokes, rucking up his shirt and sweeping across her curves by memory.

"Tease," River accuses again, her voice slightly breathless.

"I'm not teasing, I'm savoring," he corrects, freeing River's breasts and taking one nipple into his mouth, intent on following the same path with his tongue.

River's clutches at his hair and back, her nails biting into his skin as she holds him in place.

His hand continues its path down her body, fingers parting her slick folds and nudging her swollen clit. She's still sensitive from their recent lovemaking, her hips twitching at his light touches.

"Savor faster," River murmurs with an urgent growl that ends on a whimper as he sinks two fingers inside her welcoming depths and River arches up to meet him.

His mouth is still occupied with her breasts, sucking and kissing and tasting, so he forgoes a reply, pumping his fingers in a slow, steady pace and lost in the way River's body clenches around them, drawing him back before he's even left.

River catches his hand in hers, dragging it up to suck his fingers into her mouth, her tongue wrapping around them in a way that goes straight to his cock. She slides her hip over his and rolls them sideways with an impatient sound, her slick sex rubbing against him.

With a groan, the Doctor feels that same urgency racing through him, demanding that he be fully inside her immediately. He nips his way up to River's neck, lingering over her racing pulse, and lets River shift their bodies until he can sink inside the searing heat of her with a muffled groan.

River lets his fingers slip from her mouth with a wet pop, throwing her head back on a moan, her body already clenching desperately around him.

The Doctor slides his hand to her hip, hitching River closer as he lifts his head to watch her, so close that he can see the individual flecks of color dancing across the thin ring of her irises.

They set a slow, deep pace, bodies already trembling and throbbing together, everything still so achingly sensitive that it almost hurts, balancing on the razor edge of ecstasy.

River closes the miniscule space between them for a soft kiss, her lips pressing against his and her eyelashes fluttering over his cheek. The Doctor's lips part naturally at her touch, his eyes falling shut and the rest of the universe falling away.

There is only River, surrounding him, their bodies aligned. His shirt is still bunched between them, damp from their skin and hiding none of the soft curves that cradle him.

He can feel the fast staccato of River's hearts, in perfect sync with his own as their bodies rock together, drawn by the irresistible pull between them.

His fingers dig into River's thigh, hitching her leg higher over his hip, and River tears her mouth from his on a gasp.

Sweat is beading on their skin, and their hips are gaining urgency. The Doctor can already feel his control fraying every time he pushes into the swollen, wet heat of River, her muscles clenching around his cock and demanding more of him.

"I'm yours too, you know," the Doctor manages, his voice thick and scratchy, forcing his eyes open even as his muscles tremble with the effort of holding back the low heat suffusing his body. "Always and completely, River."

Eyes flying open to find his, even as her body quivers and clenches around him, River brushes her thumb over his jaw. "Oh, sweetie - that was a given," she offers breathlessly, nothing but love and forgiveness on her face.

A sound that might be a laugh bubbles up in the Doctor's chest, tears prickling at his eyes. He kisses her again to stave off either, his hips snapping against hers with renewed urgency, desperate to be joined with her utterly and completely.

Neither of them last long. River comes with a muffled cry against his lips, body quivering and clenching around him, and the Doctor follows helplessly after, spilling the last of himself inside her.

They lay there for a long time after, wrapped up in one another, trading quiet breaths and soft kisses, cocooned under the sheets and within one another.

...

When food becomes a necessity, the Doctor simply scoops River up in his arms and carries her to the kitchen.

She swats at him and laughs, and he wishes he'd swept her off her feet more often. "Put me down, you great clumsy idiot, before you drop me!"

"I'd never drop you," the Doctor responds promptly, clutching her tighter. It comes out too serious, so he softens his features into a grin and pinches River's bum for her cheek. "Besides, I'm supposed to keep you off your feet, remember?"

He deposits River on the worktop and sets about making a full English breakfast, rummaging through River's fridge and having to make some creative substitutions.

River offers a running commentary, none of it flattering, swinging her feet against the cupboards and poking him when he comes near enough.

The Doctor frowns at the fuchsia color of the omelet. "You're not helping."

"I'm supervising," River counters, scooting closer so that she can peer over his shoulder with a snort. "Making sure you don't burn the house down."

He scowls and River laughs, and he can't really complain because he'd suffer far worse indignities than a little mocking to make her laugh. He waves his spatula in her face, "Back, you. I need to flip the sausage."

The sound she makes is lower and dirtier as she considers him. "Hmm, and here I was going to let you flip me instead." Instead of moving away, River's legs wrap around his waist.

The spatula clatters to the floor, forgotten, as the Doctor lets River draw him into her, his hands already moving to undo the buttons of River's stolen shirt as he presses her back onto the worktop.

...

By the time he remembers about breakfast, it's all burnt to a crisp. Not that he has any complaints at all. They make tea and scrounge up assorted odds and ends, including a wide selection of biscuits.

River insists on walking to the dining room with a smirk, shoving the Doctor's arms full of food and rescuing their teacups before he can try to balance them. She leads him to the dining table, naked, eyes sparkling and one eyebrow arched as she sits. "Well?"

They don't make it more than halfway through their tea before River ends up face down against the dining table, nails digging into the wood, and the plate of biscuits sliding off in their wake.

...

After that, they retreat to the lounge, curling naked under an ancient afghan on the sofa and watching old vids. Well, River watches the vids. The Doctor is far too busy drinking her in to bother paying attention to the telly.

River squirms in his arms, eyes darting toward his. "Stop it."

The Doctor continues winding her curls around his fingers, his other hand lazily stroking across her side. "What?"

"Watching me," River huffs, as though she's ever minded being the center of his attention.

"Make me."

He feels River's breath hitch at the familiar challenge, and then she's pressing him down against the sofa and rising over him, and the last thing in the universe he'd do is look away.

...

Eventually, they find themselves back in their bed, in the small hours of the morning that are bigger on the inside.

The Doctor feels heavy and shattered, more from the press of time choking him than spending the day shagging his wife across her house. He's been able to lose himself in her, safe in a shelter of River where time never matters. Though, if it's the last... he can't say as he minds that every room of her house will be marked with memories of them.

River stretches next to him with a low sound before curling back into him. "I might just keep you around - this is the best workout I've had in ages."

The Doctor drops a kiss into her hair. "I see how it is - just using me for my body."

Her laughter echoes through his chest, marking his bones with the quiet rumble as she clings tighter to him. "What, this lanky thing? I don't know why I let you near me, honestly."

"Because I make you scream."

He never tires of the hitch in River's breathing when he lets his voice drop to that low growl. Their nerves are raw and sensitive, muscles sore and tired, but River's fingertips dance across his stomach anyway, leaving all those nerves and muscles quivering under her touch, aching for her. "Mmm, in that case, I'm definitely just using you for sex."

He pokes her side, heaving out a long-suffering sigh and relishing her giggle as his fingers find all her secret, ticklish spots. "Such a romantic."

"I'll leave the romance to you, sweetie," River promises, breathless as she squirms out of his grasp.

His own personal assassin - his bespoke psychopath - curled up in bed with him and barely batting him away as he tickles her. The Doctor's hearts ache with how lucky he has been. "I didn't manage much in the way of romance today," he laments with a huff, thinking that he should have spent the day wooing his wife, rather than hiding in sweet warmth of her arms.

River stretches luxuriously and lets him drag her back into his arms. "On the contrary, Doctor. I seem to recall you sweeping me off my feet, quite literally." She hums contentedly, musing, "Today reminds me of when I was at university - skiving off lectures to spend the day in bed with you. Though, we used to spend the day in the TARDIS. The Old Girl is going to get jealous."

He hasn't lived those memories yet. Those last few untouched pages of her diary - the only spoilers left. He hasn't been sure he was strong enough to face River during her university days, to whisk her off on adventures and be patient with spoilers and hide the loss from his eyes.

Now though, when he can feel every tick of the clock like a guillotine around his neck, the Doctor regards those days with foolish hope. Even if he doesn't see an older River again (and he refuses to believe that, cradled here in her arms - he'll steal more time with her if he has to), he has a few precious more days with her younger self.

The Doctor grins back at River, torn between wrenching loss and hopeful elation. "Never. She adores you." It's safer, to spend time with her on Luna. He's far too tempted to just keep River, once she's on the TARDIS, and he thinks the Old Girl would let him, paradoxes be damned.

River arches one eyebrow. "Of course she does - she'd be jealous of you for keeping me all to yourself."

The Doctor huffs into her skin, but he can't deny it's true. "You've always been her favorite."

River's hand cards through his hair gently, and he presses languid kisses across her chest, refusing to rush in a last act of rebellion against their backwards timelines.

With a soft sigh, River arches into him. "Are you going to sleep, my love?"

"Can't. Busy." River looks so concerned that the Doctor sighs, meeting her gaze and willing his words true, if he has to bend time and the universe to make it so. "I'll sleep the next time I see you."

Unconvinced, she offers him a soft smile, brushing his hair off his forehead fondly. "From whose perspective?"

The Doctor smiles tightly and says nothing, which is answer enough.

...

He steals every last second with her, until his head begins to pound and his vision starts to blur under the weight of their timelines, demanding he leave. Still, he waits, clinging tightly to River because the pain of staying cannot possibly match the agony of leaving her arms.

River runs her hand across his brow, smoothing the creases there. "Are you going to tell me what the matter is?"

"Is it enough to know that you make everything better?" He kisses her knuckles, but he keeps his eyes on hers. He's not lying - being with River is the salve to every wound he has. Even if he doesn't know what he'll do in the time to come without her, he knows that it is utterly worth it for these moments together.

River brushes his fringe back. "Always," but the concern lingers in her eyes.

He brushes a kiss over her lips, trying to chase away the slight frown. He doesn't want to burden her with his misery more than he already has. Besides, she has their year together still to look forward to. And, oh, what a year it was.

The Doctor eases himself out of her arms, sliding bone-weary legs over the edge of the bed and suddenly feeling older still than when the Master withered his body in a year that was rewritten. So many things rewritten - but not them, never them.

River presses a kiss to the top of his spine. "You're leaving, then," and it's not a question.

The Doctor nods helplessly, mustering up a smile from somewhere before he rises and drags himself to the wardrobe to dress. The shirt he was wearing is still abandoned in the kitchen, its buttons littering their bedroom floor, and he doesn't know what has become of his bowtie.

He feels a bit dizzy and numb, the pressure of their timelines lessening with each layer of clothing dragging him farther from River, even though she is sat right behind him, watching him dress from the comfort of their bed.

His hands shake when he dons a fresh bowtie, and he closes his eyes, trying to breathe through the roaring in his ears.

River moves silently, her small hands closing over his, quickly finishing the knot and sealing his fate with a kiss to his cheek before she withdraws. The timelines clear, now that he's dressed, now that he's really leaving, and the Doctor feels the weight of his bowtie like a noose around his neck.

"How do I look?" He manages a little twirl for her, nearly choking on the words.

Wrapped in her bedsheet, lips swollen, hair wild, skin mapped with his touch, River Song smiles beatifically at him. "Amazing."

He holds that vision of her in his mind, or else he'd never be able to leave her. He's afraid to touch her again, or else he really won't. "See you soon, Doctor Song."

"Count on it," River promises, and he holds that promise too, nestled close between his hearts.

...

End Notes: For those interested, this mug actually exists and you can google it.