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It takes him an embarrassingly long time to make the connection. Really, just mortifying. River would say he’s getting old. But really, it isn’t all his fault – he was forced to deal with his past selves right after he said farewell to River and there wasn’t a whole lot of time to dwell on those last few moments he’d spent with his wife. He’d pushed back the pain of goodbye to be dealt with at a quieter time, when he was alone, when it would be safe to fall apart.
When he does finally get that chance, his mind won’t let him grieve. Instead, it pushes and prods at him, forcing him to the conclusion he should have come to long ago – and would have, without all the distractions. River was mentally linked with Clara, but when Clara jumped into his timestream to save him, she died. The link would have been severed. River should have vanished instantly, though he is oh so glad she didn’t. Seeing her again, talking to her, holding her in his arms… she revived him and gave him the strength he needed to go on.
The only problem is he doesn’t understand how. If the link between River and Clara was severed, why did it take so long for River to fade away? Even River, with her sheer bloody-mindedness, couldn’t have held on that long without a little help.
Who helped her?
The Doctor glances up at the time rotor, eyeing it suspiciously.
The TARDIS makes a noise that he assumes is meant to convey her innocence in the matter.
He frowns. “Well if you weren’t helping her, then who could possibly have -” He stops, eyes lighting up. “Oh.”
Clara is waiting for him when he lands the TARDIS outside her home and the moment he steps out, she throws herself into his arms and squeals as he staggers back. “I saved her! It’s all been coming back to me – well, not everything because my god, that would do a girl’s head in - but bits and pieces in dreams. And I remembered this last night -” She pulls back, beaming proudly up at him. “I saved your wife.”
He gapes down at her, shocked tears in his eyes. “Clara, how did you -”
“She told me she died in the biggest Library in the universe to save you.” She shrugs, looking a little self-conscious now that she’s blurted out her secret. “So I looked through your timestream for her and saved her too. I figured, in a way, I was still saving you.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” he breathes, and yanks Clara to him, hugging her tightly. “You clever girl. Thank you.” He swallows back the tears and tries to speak around the lump in his throat. “I don’t know how to -”
“Oi, don’t go getting all mushy on me,” she says, stepping back with a grin. “Save that for your wife, yeah?”
He beams, wiping at his cheeks with his sleeve. “You coming?”
She shakes her head, smiling wryly. “You can come back for me when you’ve gotten all the reunion sex out of your systems.”
He squeaks, stumbling back into the TARDIS doors with a scandalized, “Clara.”
She points a scolding finger at him. “And don’t forget to disinfect the console.”
Blushing furiously, he sputters, “What? We don’t -”
She waggles her fingers at him, smirking knowingly. “I look forward to meeting the Mrs. properly when you get back.”
Face hot and hands capable of nothing but flailing, he glares at her and turns on his heel, marching into the TARDIS and slamming the door behind him. It only takes him a moment to remember himself, turn around and march right back out, lifting Clara off the ground as he hugs her to him gratefully. Smoothing a hand over her hair, he presses his lips to her forehead. “Thank you.”
-
As soon as he’s back inside the TARDIS and floating in the vortex, another problem presents itself. Somewhere out there, River is safe from the Library and waiting for him to find her but he hasn’t the faintest idea where to look. Would she have gone back to her home after surviving the Library? Would she have grown tired of waiting for him and decided to look for him instead?
“What do you think, eh?” He asks the TARDIS, drumming his fingers on the console. “You know everything, you tell me where she is.”
Hang on.
He sits up a little straighter, fixing his reproachful gaze on the time rotor. “You know everything,” he murmurs. “You knew Clara would save River! And you love River – possibly more than me, might I add. Why were you so tetchy with her then?”
He pauses, listening, and gapes in disbelief.
“Because you wanted to save her yourself? Oh, now that is just petty, Old Girl.”
If a time machine could shrug petulantly, he has a feeling his ship would be doing it right now. He sighs, stroking the console fondly. They’re both terribly selfish when it comes to River – he really has no right to scold her.
“Alright, then.” He smiles, tugging at his coat and slicking back his hair, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. “Take me where I need to go.”
He rushes to the doors the moment the ship shudders to a stop, throwing them open and stepping out just in time to see the TARDIS dematerializing across the small garden of River’s cottage. “Cutting it a bit close, Old Girl,” he mutters, rapping his knuckles gently against the door as he pulls it closed and wondering if the man who just left was a past or future version of himself. His hearts leap into his throat as he considers the possibility of meeting a River who had survived the Library in his past and not even realizing it.
“Back so soon?”
He starts, glancing toward the cottage to find River leaning over the porch railing, watching him with a soft, tired smile. “Can’t keep away,” he calls, pushing away from the TARDIS and starting toward her. She looks weary and perhaps a little sad, but so very beautiful. And most importantly – she is safe. Leaping up the stairs in one giant step, he gathers her into his arms and ignores her soft noise of surprise, grinning brightly. “Hello.”
Looking at him oddly and obviously aware that something is off, River still can’t help but smile back, wrapping her arms around his neck and swaying into him. “Hello again.”
He nuzzles his nose against hers and slides his fingers through her hair, cradling her head in his hands. She tilts her face up to look at him, green eyes sparkling and a bit worryingly red. River, gorgeous, brilliant, and so far from an echo – his now, and he doesn’t plan on letting time steal her away again. The pull to her is too strong and he doesn’t even try to resist, bending his head and kissing her eagerly. River responds as if he hadn’t just left her moments ago from her perspective, as if she is just as starved for him as he is for her. Her mouth is hot and slick as it opens beneath his, her tongue sliding against his with a fierce need to dominate. She nips and sucks at his bottom lip, her fingers stroking through his hair and ruffling it beyond help. His own hands begin to wander and he presses himself against her, relishing the feel of her real and solid, wonderful curves under his palms.
River is the first to pull away, needing to breathe more than he does, and she laughs softly as she strokes her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. “Well, this is a nice surprise,” she murmurs, her eyes dark. “To what do I owe this booty call?”
Breathing a little heavy, he rests his forehead against hers and licks his lips, not bothering to correct her for the moment. “Where are we, Professor?”
Strangely, her smile dims a little and the fire in her eyes turns to low-burning embers. He doesn’t understand the sudden change until she ducks her head and whispers, “Manhattan.”
His breath catches painfully in his throat. So he did encounter her after she’d done the Library – and at the worst possible time. His River, who had already been through hell and back, had been forced to endure more pain – and at his hand. It’s always his fault. Cradling her face in his hands, he blinks back tears and strokes his thumbs over her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, River.”
She shakes her head, leaning forward and kissing his chin. “I’m alright,” she promises quietly. “You made sure of that before I left, remember?”
“I remember I tried,” he sighs. “I was never quite sure if I succeeded.”
After he’d read Amy’s letter, he’d gone back to the TARDIS, found his wife and held her until she let him see the damage. No more hiding, he’d made her promise. Together, they’d grieved and together, they’d healed. And for those few weeks between dropping River off and running into a version of River who’d just accepted a job leading an expedition to the Library planet, he’d honestly thought that he’d be all right eventually. But losing River had been, well, the straw that broke the Time Lord’s back, as it were. He’d parked the TARDIS on a cloud and would have quite gladly stayed there forever if it hadn’t been for Clara – wonderful, brilliant Clara who all at once dragged him back into the world of the living and gave him his life back, his River.
She places her hands over his on her face and smiles softly up at him, looking so like she had when he’d had to tell her goodbye that it makes his hearts clench painfully. “You did succeed, sweetie. Now, where are you?”
He almost tells her right then but he realizes he still isn’t sure if this River has done the Library – just because the TARDIS took him here doesn’t mean he’s at the right point in her timeline and he can’t go mucking things up by blurting out such a big spoiler in his excitement. So he shrugs and watches her face carefully as he says, “Oh, you know. Been knocking around a bit. Found a new companion, name’s Clara.”
It’s only because he’s watching her face so closely that he sees the flicker of recognition in her eyes before she covers it with a vaguely interested look. Oh, she’s good. “That’s nice, sweetie. I’m glad you found someone.”
“Not just anyone though,” he says, ducking his head to hide a smirk. “Clara is special.”
“Aren’t they all, honey?”
He frowns. It’s so difficult to make her jealous when she’s older. All he had to do when she was younger was leave a garment from her older self lying around in their bedroom and she’d be positively green until he reassured her – in rather creative ways. He supposes he should be glad she doesn’t feel so insecure anymore but right now, it’s taking all the fun out of trying to suss out if she’s the River he thinks she is. “Yes, they’re all special in their own way. But Clara is different. She… saved me. In every way it’s possible to save a man.”
River smiles serenely. “You always did have good taste, honey.”
“And she’s brave and clever and very pretty -” The skin around River’s eyes tightens, as if she’s fighting the urge to glare at him, and he barely conceals a grin of triumph. But she says nothing and he deflates. Perhaps he was just a bit too good at soothing those insecurities. “I think she has a crush on me.” Clara would punch him if she heard that but well, Clara isn’t here and River needs to start being a bit more jealous. His ego is beginning to bruise.
Instead of flying into a rage, River hums softly and sways into him, her fingers fiddling with his bowtie. “They usually always do. You’re too charming for your own good.”
Maybe he should stop worrying about River being after the events of the Library and start worrying that she’s been swapped with a Stepford Wife replacement. “I snogged her once,” he says quickly, waiting for the inevitable slap. “Well, she snogged me but I didn’t stop her. And I didn’t tell her I was married afterward.”
“Well, if you’re so interested, honey,” River shrugs. “We could always invite her into our bed.”
He flails, gaping at her, and River’s lips finally quirk in amusement. Realizing he’s been had, he whinges, “River!”
She giggles and it’s the most glorious, sweet sound he’s heard since – well, since the last time he heard her giggle. But he stammers and blusters anyway, because he cannot just let her get away with these things because he likes the sound of her laugh when she’s amused at his expense.
“It isn’t funny! I was starting to believe I’d fallen into some strange parallel universe!”
“You know, most men wouldn’t consider their wife suggesting a threesome with a cute brunette cause for alarm.” She takes his face in her hands and kisses him sweetly, smiling against his mouth all the while. “Only you, my love.”
He grumbles under his breath even as his hands slide tenderly over the small of her back. “That wasn’t very nice,” he says, pouting. “I just wanted to know if you’d done Trenzalore.”
“Then you should have asked instead of trying to make me jealous – as if I’d ever be jealous of Clara, honestly.” She shakes her head fondly.
“She did save me, you know,” he says, giving up his irritation for naught and resting his forehead against hers. “She brought you back. I have been so -” He exhales shakily and River blinks back tears. “Lost without you, my River.”
She strokes her fingers over his cheek tenderly. “You would have been fine eventually. You always are.”
“Maybe,” he admits, and turns his head, kissing her palm with reverence. “I was fine for centuries before you came along and I would have been fine again without you.” He swallows, looking into tear-filled green eyes. “But I don’t want to be fine anymore, River. I want to be with you.”
River makes a soft noise in the back of her throat that sounds suspiciously like a sob just before she hauls him down to her by his ears and kisses him heatedly. Her tongue licks at his lips and he opens his mouth instantly, all too happy to let her devour him whole. She seems perfectly intent on doing just that, her kiss hungry and her hands sliding up his chest, pushing his coat from his shoulders. It falls to the creaky floorboards of her porch and River wastes no time in starting on his waistcoat, her teeth tugging impatiently at his bottom lip.
But she’s forgotten one thing – she may have missed this him but she just spent weeks with another version of him, and he remembers all too well their favorite way of comforting each other. For his part, it has been decades since he touched her, aside from that one precious kiss at Trenzalore. His need for her is far greater than any desire he has ever known.
He kisses her back with a voraciousness that catches her off guard, if that delightful noise in the back of her throat is any indication. He grips her hips tightly, just the way she likes, and hauls her close, letting her feel exactly what her toe-curling kisses do to him. River purrs into his mouth and he whimpers – oh, she knows that does things to him.
She smirks, her fingers raking through his hair, leaving his waistcoat only half undone. Her thigh slips between his legs, a delicious pressure that makes him shiver and stagger back. His back hits her front door with enough force to knock the air from his lungs. He wheezes against River’s mouth and she laughs, low and soft. Reaching around behind him, she stands on her tiptoes and captures his earlobe between her teeth, tugging even as she fumbles for the doorknob to let them inside before he takes her right there, her nearby neighbors be damned. The moment her tongue traces hotly over the shell of his ear and he makes a faint, incoherent noise of pleasure, she twists the doorknob and they stumble inside, through her foyer.
Too busy kissing her – River’s mouth is magnificent and really, no trial in any galaxy would find him guilty for losing his mind when that mouth is anywhere near him – the Doctor isn’t paying much attention to navigation. As a result, it comes as no surprise to him when they trip and stumble, toppling onto River’s staircase with simultaneous yelps. Lying squished beneath him, River laughs, but the Doctor isn’t deterred. It’s been a very long time since he’s made love to his wife. The last Time Lord will not be stopped by a bloody staircase.
“Someone’s eager,” River gasps, tossing her head back and hitting one of the steps with a painful sounding thump as he licks and nips his way down her neck and chest.
“Missed you,” he whispers, and holds her a little tighter as his mind briefly wanders back to the long, lonely years without her. “So very much.” River strokes his cheek, her eyes soft, and he blinks away the grief because she’s here now, warm and soft and alive beneath him. He won’t waste another moment dwelling on the darkness, not when she shines so brightly in his arms, chasing away the shadows with her smile and a love that never wavers.
“Missed me enough to shag me on the stairs?” River looks delighted. “How very Neanderthal, honey.”
“You love it,” he points out and ducks his head, mouthing at the supple skin of her breasts above the low neckline of her dress.
She arches beneath him, threading her fingers through his hair and gasping as he sucks a bright red mark on her chest. “I could certainly get used to this predatory side of you. Perhaps I should die and come back more often – pining does lovely things to you.”
He bites at her breast and when she yelps, he growls, “Not funny, Professor.”
“Ooh, Mr. Serious,” she coos teasingly, and drags his head back up to hers, kissing him with enthusiasm. She tastes like tea and stars and old books, and when she breaks away to breathe, the Doctor licks greedily at the corner of her mouth. River groans, fumbling between them for the zip on his trousers. “Have I mentioned how hot it gets me when you call me Professor?”
He grins, sliding his hands over her thighs and dragging the skirt of her dress up. “No, but I could always tell.”
“Really? How -”
He slides his hand up her thigh, cupping her through her damp knickers, and River’s breath stutters in her throat, her hips bucking into his hand. “Like that,” he murmurs, nuzzling his face into her cleavage.
“Smug idiot,” she murmurs fondly, and slips her hand into his trousers. Her small, devious fingers wrap around his length and the Doctor chokes, his eyes watering.
“River,” he breathes. Oh, the touch of his wife after so long is like heaven – no, home. River is home and he has been wandering aimlessly without her to return to.
Her hand pumps up and down in a dizzying rhythm and she doesn’t stop no matter how prettily he begs, afraid he’ll spill all over her hand before he gets the chance to be inside her. The moment he gets his bearings enough to try reciprocating – slipping his fingers past the elastic of her knickers and stroking deftly through her wetness – River changes her tune. Shaking her head impatiently and tugging at his trousers, she pleads, “Inside, sweetie. Please.”
Fortunately for her, he can never deny her anything.
With his trousers around his thighs and River’s skirt pooled around her hips, the Doctor settles between her legs and presses his forehead to hers, looking into blue-green eyes dark with desire but filled with tears as he sinks into the wet heat of her body. She moans softly, wrapping her legs around his waist and urging him on as he gasps for air, struggling to push back the tears. “Please, sweetie,” she whispers again, rocking her hips and sending ripples of heat all through him.
The Doctor grits his teeth and lifts himself up over her, intent on watching every minute expression that passes over her face as he moves inside her. He pulls out and the first thrust back into her is bliss, and the second, and the third, and before long, they’re moving steadily together, a slow, hard pace – their cries mingling in the air they share between them.
River’s face is a study in pleasure – the flush of her cheeks, the light in her eyes, her kiss-swollen lips and her sweat-drenched skin. Her chest heaves and her hips roll against his every thrust, her hair an erratic halo around her head. She is glorious and he doesn’t take his eyes off her, scared to death she might disappear, like a fever dream. He wants to capture this moment forever, bottle it up and store it in his library so that whenever he pulls out the cork, he will see her smile, smell the sweat on her skin and feel the desire in his gut warring with elation and disbelief – his wife, safe and with him always.
As he moves faster and faster, pressing River harder into the steps beneath her with every thrust, she palms her own breast and chants hoarsely yes sweetie, more, don’t stop. She sounds and looks positively obscene, and he fights to keep from losing control just looking at her.
“So beautiful,” he whispers breathlessly. “I wish you could see yourself. Oh, you’re such a sight, my River. But you always are. I can never, ever keep my eyes off you.” He brushes his lips over hers. “You are so dangerous to me, River Song. Nothing else matters when you’re around.”
Her inner muscles tighten around him and she clutches him to her, heel digging into his arse and her nails embedded in his shoulders. “Doctor,” she pants. “So close -”
“Shh,” he whispers, slipping his hand between them to find her swollen clit, rubbing in slow, firm circles and watching her hips jerk. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.” He presses his lips to her cheek, tasting the salt of her sweat and feeling his release threatening to pull him under, burning through him like a fire only River can quench. “I love you.”
Those quiet, simple words from his lips are all she needs and with a keening sob, she throws her head back against the stairs and clenches around him. As in everything else, he follows right behind her in this too, burying his face in her neck and coming so hard he sees stars, planets, galaxies, and at the center of it all, River.
They lie together on the stairs for a long time, letting the sweat dry on their skin and curling around each other, utterly lacking the strength to get up and move somewhere more comfortable. After a few minutes, they realize that in their haste to have one another, they hadn’t even shut the front door. They collapse into giggles, wondering which unfortunate neighbor had wandered by and gotten an eyeful.
Lips pressed to her temple once they’ve gotten their breath back, the Doctor slides his hand up and down River’s arm and mumbles sleepily, “This calls for a second honeymoon.”
River snorts softly. “We’ve already had a second honeymoon. And a third, and a fourth and a –“
“Yes, all right,” he scowls. “I get it.”
“Not that I would be opposed to another,” she amends, tilting her head up where it rests on his chest to look at him. “But we’d have to get married again to have another honeymoon.”
He beams, hugging her close. “I think I could live with that. Oh, can we do a Hindu ceremony this time, River? I want the little dot on my forehead! Little dots are cool.”
River rolls her eyes. “It’s called a bindi, sweetie.”
“Yes, Professor,” he replies dutifully, and taps her on the nose, suppressing a giddy smile when she wrinkles it like she always does. “But first we have to pick up Clara.”
Together, they stand and wobble off the staircase, righting their clothes as they go. River wanders ahead of him to the TARDIS as the Doctor pauses on the porch, bending down to scoop up his discarded jacket. When he steps into the TARDIS, River turns to him and smiles.
“You’ve got a new desktop! I like it.” With a wicked grin, she leans seductively against the side of the console with the flat panel and he is suddenly tremendously grateful the Old Girl had insisted on it – now he knows why. “Want to break it in?”
Beaming and mentally scowling at Clara for being right, the Doctor bounds up to his wife and takes her in his arms, idly wondering where the TARDIS keeps the disinfectant.