Dust and Shadows

Prologue

Pulvis et umbra sumus. (We are but dust and shadow.)"
― Horace

The air was biting. It nipped at the Doctor's nose and ears, seeping through his tweed the instant the little cottage door shut behind him, and for a fraction of a second he considered going back inside where there was warmth and food, laughter and jolly Christmas songs. Was there anything better than Christmas in Leadworth? If there was, the Doctor couldn't think of it, and there was still time. He could go back and warm himself by the fire. He could listen to Amy instruct Rory on the best way to string the lights 'round the tree and then grumble when he still did it his own way. He could watch River stand in the kitchen, sipping a glass of wine as she meticulously frosted cookies. But then that was the problem, wasn't it. Watching River? The strain in her eyes and the tension in her frame, and the way she smiled and pretended that nothing was the matter. The Doctor wrapped his arms over his chest and bounced down the steps just as the first snowflakes trickled from the sky.

It had been two months since area 52. Well, two months for him, two years for the Ponds. He'd spent the better part of two months trying not to think about them, trying to convince himself that they were better off without him. They were safer, at any rate. And they spent two years living ordinary, boring lives filled with jobs and dinners, holidays by the sea. And they set a place for him every night. They never gave up, the girl who waited and her centurion. It was daft. It was brilliant.

Amy had arms wrapped around his neck before the door had even shut behind him, and the Doctor couldn't help but hug her back, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her off her feet. She felt firm and solid against him. Her haired smelled like mistletoe. Rory leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and smiling.

"Oh Pond. Ponds! I've missed you," he'd cried, setting Amy back down on her feet.

She punched him in the shoulder.

"Ow!"

"That is for faking your own death." Her eyes narrowed and she hit him again. "And that is for disappearing afterward, and this…" she smacked his chest, "is for not calling to tell us you were ok." And with that she turned and disappeared into the den, leaving the Doctor rubbing his sore shoulder and scowling after her like a scorned puppy.

"Best be glad that's all you got, mate." Rory clapped him on the back, perhaps a little harder than necessary, and turned them to follow. "She's had some time to cool off."

"And what about her?" Amy's Scottish brogue echoed through the house, "Have you seen her, yet?"

"Oh Mother, let the poor man be. Christmas cheer and all that lot." The Doctor tensed at the familiar voice, hearts quickening as he stepped through the threshold.

River. Beautiful River, whose smile grew by a mile when he turned to her and whose sharp eyes undoubtedly noticed the strange glisten on his cheek and still said nothing but, "Hello Sweetie." She was wearing a tight black dress with long strands of pearls that covered her chest, falling just between her breasts. He noticed her heels had been kicked off by the corner of the sofa and she stood, hand grasping the mantle for balance as she warmed her toes by the fire.

He didn't even fight it this time, letting his eyes make the slow sweep up her body. He enjoyed it so much he did it again. Because she was his wife, wasn't she? He knew that now and he was allowed the privilege.

"Hello, dear," he said, gravitating toward her like a moth to a flame. The endearment tasted like honey on his lips and he determined then to use it as often as possible. "Where are we for you then?" He ran his fingers along the pearls. They were familiar.

She hummed, soft and low, audible only to the two of them. Her eyes remained fixed on him, watching him drink her in with a quiet satisfaction. "I just finished the Pandorica. Just left Mum and Dad's wedding actually."

His face brightened. "Oh yea?" he shoved hands into his pockets, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "What'd you think of my moves?" He quirked his eyebrow in a way that sent her reeling with laughter.

"It was a sight, my love."

Somewhere in the background, the Doctor was aware of whispering. A timer dinged in the kitchen and Amy and Rory hustled about. River's eyes cut to them, watching her parents scurry off to finish dinner before turning back to him, tilting her head as she did so. "Has it really been two months since Area 52?" The teasing drained from her voice. The shift was starling enough that his own quip about her eavesdropping tendencies died on his lips. Instead, he simply nodded. "And you haven't seen me—that me—since then?" The Doctor struggled to read her face. There was no sultry smile or mischievous glint in her eyes. Instead, tension crinkled tightly at their edge, lips parted slightly as if trying to recall a memory. But the look was there one second and gone the next, replaced by her normal facade.

Try as he might, the Doctor couldn't get that look out of his mind. He saw it every time he looked at her. It was so obvious now, her smile, her laugh, her voice, he could see through all of it, and what he saw worried him.

The snow was falling faster by the time he made it to the TARDIS. He was standing at the front, fishing the key out of his pocket when he heard the heavy door open and shut behind him and he bowed his head further, concentrating on getting inside but his fingers were too numb to cooperate.

"Doctor?" River called to him from across the street and his eyes fell shut at the sound of his name on her lips. It was unworthy. Finally, his fingers felt the sharp outline of the key, tucked into the bottom seam of his pocket. "Doctor, what are you doing?" He tugged at the warm metal, nearly had it when an ungloved hand tucked into the crook of his arm and hauled him around. The key tumbled from his gasp and landed in the snow at their feet.

She considered him with a mixture of disappointment and accusation, with wide green eyes that saw right through him, and the Doctor felt his cheeks redden. "And what the hell is this, then?" She asked, hand tightening around his arm when he tried to pull out of her grasp. "Is this what you're doing now? Pop in for an hour at a time, 'Oh by the way, I'm not dead. Happy Christmas, everyone. Delicious goose, Amy.' And out you slip before everyone's had time to clean up the dessert plates?"

"River…"

"Two years! They are your best friends and they haven't seen you in two years. The least you could do is stay for a cup of tea and few carols."

Carols. Now there was a thought. He'd always loved a good carol. Gathering around the piano with happy smiles. Oh and the hat! The jolly Christmas hats! He loved those hats, it was one of the few times Amy ever indulged him. But even as his mind wandered, considering only briefly that he could go back inside and join the festivities, River's face, tired and strained in the moonlight reminded him that there wasn't anything jolly about this.

"It wasn't…" he cut his eyes to the TARDIS, scanned the horizon over River's head, focused on the lampposts that dotted the street, anything to keep from having to see that face. "They're so much better off without me." He released a breath he didn't realize that he had been holding, the air leaving his lungs in a soft puff that clung to the chilled air.

"Are they then? We'll I'm glad they spoke to you about it so you know where you stand." Her voice was sharp, slicing through the chilled air with a hard edge that pulled his eyes back to her. "We're not children, Doctor. It's not up to you to protect us from you or ourselves. We make our own decisions." She stepped away from him then, arms wrapped tightly around herself in an effort to conserve heat, and he realized for the first time that she wasn't wearing a coat. He glanced down, no shoes either, and she was softly shuffling from side to side in order to flex her freezing feet.

"Alright. Ok." He whispered, catching her before she turned away. With a flick of his wrist he'd pulled the sonic from his pocket and unlocked the door. "Let's just get you warm, yea?" He muttered, shuffling her inside before bending for the silver key shimmering against the white snow.

"I'm sorry," River said, stopping just inside the door, running her hands over her face to wipe the excess snow from her skin. "I just…" She fell back against the railing, shoulders hanging, "I didn't realize that it took you so long to search me out after…" her voice trailed away, but her words clung in the air anyway. Our wedding, you waited two months before trying to find me.

"How long was it for you, then? Until you see me again." His voice was startlingly soft as he secured the latch on the door and stepped closer to her.

River stiffened, "you know I can't answer that."

"Where are you? Are you safe?" She defiantly shook her head and he glared at her.

"Spoilers, love." Finally, she turned to look at him, eyes shimmering in the low TARDIS light as she forced a hopeful grin. "Any way, it's all up to you isn't it? I wait as long as you decide I wait. Just… please god, don't make me wait two years." He was by her side in two steps, gripping her shoulders and pulling her to him even as she was moving toward the door. She shuddered between his hands.

"Something happened. Something is wrong, River. I can see it in your eyes."

"I need to go back. Leave you to your," she waved a hand toward the console, "travels." She pulled herself from his grasp and tugged on the latch to the door.

He pulled on her harder this time, succeeding in turning her around so that she faced him. She took his breath away. Her cheeks and nose were red with the Christmas air, unshed tears clung in little droplets to her eye lashes. Her jaw was set tight, determined not to shake in his presence, but did so anyway. "River…"

"You won't find me well, Doctor." She whispered to him, her voice shaky and thick. He stared at her, at a loss of what to do. This was a River he wasn't used to. This wasn't the River who battled angels and rebooted universes. This was the scared little girl running from the spacesuit. He didn't know what to say to this River, and so he didn't say anything. Instead, he stepped closer to her, arms pulling her shivering frame into him, only slightly warmer, as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I'll find you." He promised, pulling away just as she melted into his frame. "Trust me?"

She grinned a watery smile, "always," and swallowed thickly.

"Tell Amy and Rory that I'll be back in an hour." She turned for the door, stepping outside when he leaned out and grabbed her arm. "Oh! Tell them to save the carols for when I come back. And the cocoa. And the hats!" She laughed at that, tension slowly draining from her body as she turned back to him and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"We'll wait for you, sweetie."