Title: Circles on Her Back

Summary: His hands drifted up and down her back, unable to be completely still even in the hardest of times. They danced up and down her spine, over her shoulder blades and across her neck into her mess of curls.

Spoilers: The Angels Take Manhattan

Disclaimer: Not mine, all property of BBC and Steven Moffat.

Author's Note: I'm still kind of in shock and numb from The Name of the Doctor, so I figured I'd join the masses and write a post The Angels Take Manhattan story, albeit eight months later. Time; it's all wibbly wobbly anyway. Also, I'm gonna disregard River's, "I made him tell me his name," comment from Saturday, just for the sake of this story. I hope you like this, please read and review!

He had finally come back to the TARDIS. River heard the doors swing shut and the hum that came whenever the mad man was back in his box. She sighed quietly and kept typing away at her typewriter, knowing if he needed her, he would come find her. She needn't wait long, he appeared at the door moments later. He said nothing, just stared at her as she worked. She couldn't look at him, so she kept her head down and tried to concentrate. Letters into words, words into sentences. Sentences into pages and chapters, chapters into this damned book she had to write. Finally he was behind her, his hands on her shoulders. "River." She tensed under his hands and said nothing, her hands flying faster over the ancient keys. "River," he tried again, adding more pressure. Still, she wouldn't stop, wouldn't look at him. "River, please... look at me." He shook her gently, fingers digging into her flesh, yet he received no response from his wife. It was silent in the TARDIS but for his ragged breathing. "Melody, please," he choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. She froze, muscles tensing under his hands. She turned then, slowly lifting her eyes up to his ancient face, lined with grief.

"Yes, Doctor?"

He wiped an errant tear from her cheek. "Come... come to bed, River. You can work on that..." he threw a look of disgust at the typewriter. "Tomorrow. You can work on it tomorrow."

She shook her head and turned back to it. "No, I need to do this while it's fresh in my mind. Best to do it now." She turned away and started typing again, but the Doctor caught her hands in his.

"Come along, Pond," he whispered.

She broke then, and choked back a strangled sob. She nodded and stood up, silently following him down the hall to their bedroom. The Old Girl had dressed for the occasion, dimming the lights, giving the room a subdued glow and changing the decor to a darker hue. The Doctor helped her out of her constricting dress, gently pulling out the pins that held up her hair, and undid his bow tie. He lay down on the bed, and River joined him, albeit at a safe distance. She was rigid with grief, and the Doctor stared at her in the dark. "River, they were your parents. I'm... I'm sorry. I am so, so, so sorry..." He reached for her hand in the middle of the bed and grasped it tightly. She didn't pull away but she didn't respond. "River, look at me. Please."

She turned, and he could see the pain in her eyes. "It doesn't matter," she repeated numbly.

"River yes it does. Of course it matters. They were your parents." He shifted to stare down into her eyes. "Without them I wouldn't have you, and you, River Song, are... are everything to me." He placed a soft kiss into her hair. "I wouldn't have you, Melody Pond, without them. It matters. Don't ever say that it doesn't." She nodded mutely, and tears continued to spill from her eyes. He watched as his wonderful wife crumbled beneath him, and his broken hearts shattered once more. He pulled her to him, holding her tightly as she finally fell apart. He wisely stayed quiet, allowing her to let out her pain the way he knew she needed to. His hands drifted up and down her back, unable to be completely still even in the hardest of times. They danced up and down her spine, over her shoulder blades and across her neck into her mess of curls. He hoped it was soothing, and when he felt her muscles relax beneath his hands he knew to continue. She was quiet in his arms and he thought she'd finally succumbed to sleep. His hands roamed and he found himself drawing lazy designs with his fingertips across her soft skin.

"Your hearts."

He jumped slightly. "Sorry?"

River's hair tickled the underside of his jaw as she spoke. "Your hearts. That's what you drew."

His hands stilled as he looked down at her. "I... I don't know." He blushed slightly as he pushed a curl from her face. "I'm not always aware of what I'm doing..."

"Hush, sweetie," she whispered. "It's an old game. You drew two hearts."

"A game?" She nodded. "I guess... I guess I did draw two hearts. I didn't mean to, it was subconscious -"

"Sweetie." She cut him off. "It's fine. It's okay. I used to play it all the time when I was a little girl. Me and... Amy... would do it."

He tensed briefly but forged ahead. "What is it, exactly?"

"One person sits in front of the other and they draw on each other's backs, and you have to guess what they're drawing. I loved it. Amy thought it stupid but would indulge me every once in a while," she explained quietly.

"Oh." The Doctor nodded, and let his hands fall back into place on her back. "Would you like to play now?" She tilted her head ever so slightly and he understood. She lay her head onto his shoulder and relaxed back into his embrace. His fingers trailed her skin, and she closed her eyes to concentrate. Circles were all she could make out at first and she told him so. "Close, Professor Song," the Doctor whispered. His fingers danced over her again, and something clicked in her mind. It wasn't just circles. They were words. Gallifreyan words. One big circle with two smaller ones inside and a line through it. Grief. Three smaller circles connected by an arrow. Sorrow. A circle with two crossed lines. Apology. And he kept going; his hands exploring her skin in a way they never had before. Words he couldn't bear to speak spilled from him, like ink onto a canvas. Pain. Anger. Sadness. Anguish. Confusion. Love. Forgiveness. Her name, both birth and adopted. Sweetie. Spoilers. And then, one she didn't recognize. She felt him hesitate as he began another circle. It was bigger than the others, and more detailed. It contained smaller circles, some overlapping and inside the bigger ones. Lines and circles that covered her back, and then he stopped, waiting for her to guess. Her hearts seized as she realized she didn't know. "Doctor... I don't know. Draw it again?" He smiled into her hair and obliged her. She concentrated as hard as she could but the circles and lines were nothing she had seen before. Her Gallifreyan wasn't perfect but he'd been teaching her and she didn't want to disappoint him. Millions of words and meanings rushed through her mind but none were right. None quite fit what he was trying to tell her. "Doctor, I'm sorry. I don't know."

He kissed her forehead. "It's Gallifreyan, Professor Song. Ancient Gallifreyan. Do you understand?" She shook her head. "It's my name," he whispered. Warmth seeped into her bones at his words. They filled up the hole that was the loss of her parents, just for the time being as the significance of the moment hit her. More tears sprang to her eyes. The Doctor, her Doctor, had just revealed his name. His true name, that no one else in the universe knew. She looked up at him, searching his eyes to be sure he was telling the truth. He saw the look in her eyes and nodded. "It's about time you knew, Melody Pond. I've known your real name for ages; it only seemed fair that you know mine."

"Oh Doctor," she whispered, cupping his cheek. "Can you say it? Just once, so I can hear it?"

And he did. The daft old man leaned in and whispered into his wife's ear, his most intimate secret. His lips brushed her skin as he gave in, entrusting her with the knowledge that could destroy him. "There you are, Melody Pond. The woman who married me, and River Song, the woman with the Doctor's last secret." She kissed him then, and the day's events swirled in both of their minds, both of their broken hearts. The mad man and his even madder wife, spinning through time and space as grief coursed through them, from hearts to hearts, mind to mind, soul to soul.

-end-