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Seeing her, at first, is pure delight.
Hearing her voice, the voice that drove him crazy in so many ways.
Then her face in the shadows of that ridiculous and adorable hood.
Her lips are a promise, her nose is endearing, her eyes are proud.
And the hair: her magnificent curls - oh, he missed it so much. It is indomitable and fierce like a lion’s mane, like the woman in front of him.
At second, seeing her is disorientation and jelousy.
Tough and scratchy jelousy, pressing on his chest, making his hands itch. Crossing arms, rolling eyes, hearts in turmoil.
- You have given me days of adventure and many nights of passion.
The Doctor’s mouth opens in an outraged laugh before he can even help it.
So River had “acted against her husband’s instructions” and now she is reminding him how many people loved him.
That rings a bell in the Doctor’s head: more than a thousand years ago, he was in another body and the Earth was frozen in time. With her eyes fixed oh him, River cried and told him how much she loved him.
His mouth twiches in a bitter smile: now that he thinks about it, the kiss she gave him on that pyramid looks as fake as the farce he has before his eyes at the very moment.
And no, he won’t bow before “his Infinite Majesty”, thank you very much.
He feels humiliated enough already.
There are some quick playful banters and he not so subtly hints to River who he really is. She freezes literally to every refence and her eyes sadden before hardening in a joyless laugh.
- Is this what you're like when I'm not…
- Not what?
- You’re talking about murdering someone.
- No, I'm not. I'm actually murdering someone. The murder of a creature like that wouldn't weigh heavily on my conscience, even if I had one.
But after that, there she is, proclaiming: Hydroflax had stole so much from so many and she was the woman who's going to steal it all back, like a space Robin Hood.
Oh, his River.
River giggling in the snow, snowflakes in her curls, while a head in a bag threatens them - oh, he bloody missed all this.
It almost feels like he can go near her, caress her face and hug her for his dear life, right there in the snow.
But there she is again kissing another man - a really dull and pretty man and… he could surely be her son, for God’s sake! How many husbands does this woman manage to have without going crazy?
Stealing his TARDIS, ah! Like he wouldn’t notice…
- He never noticed before!
- Maybe he'll notice... now.
When they enter the TARDIS, his old girl hums happily seeing them together again. Plus, he finally has his go to see the “it’s bigger on then inside” bit done properly and… yes, that secret drinks cabinet will surely help him after this madness.
Oh, he missed watching her here, in her natural element, juggling the hundrends levers and buttons on the TARDIS console like it’s the easiest thing to do in the universe.
Squabbles and plans and protecting each other. Running hand in hand.
- Stop holding my hand, people don't do that to me!
- Hush now!
- Don’t hush me. I'm not a hushing person!
Watching her changing her outfit is as wonderful as ever.
He remembers once she told him the best way to accomplish something is wearing the perfect outfit for the occasion.
- Not bad for a two hundred, eh?
Two hundred years old.
He never asked how old she was. “You never ask a woman her age, especially if she’s your wife, darling” she had told him. But he really didn’t want to know. His eleventh self didn’t like endings.
River reads her rumpled, yellowed, ever-loyal diary.
He still remembers when he had found it at that sale in New New Yorks’ streets; he had bought it and gift-wrapped it with a red bow, like he was in a dream. He had left it on the nightstand in the hospital room where she was sleeping, tired for giving up all her lives at once to save his.
- It took me a week.
- To fall in love?
- It's the easiest lie you can tell a man. They'll automatically believe any story they're the hero of.
Well, that really hurts.
- Is it sad? The diary.
- Why would a diary be sad?
Because she reads it again and again. All that adventures they lived together, they’re over and lost in her past. Now, those stories are simply bits of their lives, written with no hurry while she was sitting on the bed in her cell, writing in the bright then dim light of the lightenings outside the narrow window.
And it’s almost full. The blank pages are nearly over and his River - his brilliant River - knows.
- The man who gave me this was the sort of man who'd know exactly how long a diary you were going to need.
- He sounds awful.
- I suppose he is. I've never really thought about it.
- Not somebody special then?
- No. But terribly useful every now and then.
The Doctor is starting to think she meant it.
Maybe he was no more than one of her hobbies. Maybe he really was just one of the husbands of River Song.
But what a fool he had been believing it even for just a second.
- The Doctor does not and has never loved me.
She is not lying.
River, his River, really, genuinely thinks he does not love her.
And how to blame her?
He had treated her with suspicion before he knew who she was. He had moved away from her after he knew the truth because he was afraid.
He had never completely given himself to her, like the coward he was; like a stubborn greedy old man.
It had been always her who had looked after him, not the other way around. She had given him attention and care and love. She did not tear away her eyes from that Angel so he could say goodbye to Amy. She had swallowed every insult. She had spent many years in a bloody prison just to keep him safe. And finally, she even died to give him the chance to live their story.
And in the meantime, he had never even showed her how much he loved her.
- When you love the Doctor, it's like loving the stars themselves! You don't expect a sunset to admire you back! And if I happen to find myself in danger, let me tell you, the Doctor is not stupid enough, or sentimental enough, and he is certainly not in love enough to find himself standing in it with me!
He would be really proud to prove her wrong, except he is so overwhelmed by all that.
- Hello, sweetie.
And she beams at him. She smiles when the awareness reaches her eyes, followed by tears. She keeps smiling at him while they try to escape the latest trouble.
- River, not one person on this ship, not one living thing, is worth you.
- Or you!
Darillium, at last.
The Towers stand, massive, against the sky: clouded by the rain and by the fumes from the spaceship’s crash.
It really was impossible to avoid that… this last night.
His former self had ignored it and cancelled many times, but here it was, back to torment him. To remind him that everything ends, even hope.
But not love.
And River has to know how much she is loved. And by no one more than him.
“The finest table in all the galaxy” he thinks with a grin. “Beat this, Bowtie”.
To sonic her with the new screwdriver is painful, but necessary.
It is better to do it right away and get rid of this unconfortable thought, making it look like a gift.
- I don't think you've ever given me a present before.
And she beams like a happy little girl while she opens the small gift box.
Maybe she has never received a true present.
She is strangely shy, kissing him on the cheeks. His skin burns where her lips touch him.
The sunset’s light hits them, and it’s yellow and orange and beautiful.
The Towers watch and mirror them.
He thinks about what will inevitably come next. The time they are going to spend together will never be enough and he will have to say goodbye to her for good.
Tears wet his eyes and she knows. She always knows.
- Are you crying?
She sounds really upset.
- No. Just the wind.
- Nothing’s ever just the wind.
She believes in him.
She hopes he’ll save the day at the last minute, waiting until she’ll give up hope completely, winking at her and giving her that smug little smile. Like he always does.
Like he used to.
- No, I don't. Not always. Times end, River, because they have to. Because there's no such thing as happy ever after. It's just a lie we tell ourselves because the truth is so hard.
- Happy ever after doesn't mean forever. It just means time. A little time. But that's not the sort of thing you could ever understand, is it?
He huffs funnily and bitterly: no, she’s right. He never truly understood these things.
But this time, just this once, he has to try: for her.
At least, he has to try making her understand.
The Towers are just like them: they have been there for centuries. They overcame storms and wars and time itself. Nobody understands them, not really. They can’t understand where their melody comes from, or what makes them so perfect, so unique. It’s probably something to do with the precise positions, the distance between them: terribly close to each other but never touching.
But then the music comes and puts everyone under its spell, in the same way River charms him.
She’s unpredictable and magical and disarming, she takes him over when the wind blows and the night is perfect. She surprises him when he least expects it but always when he needs her the most.
A melody.
A song.
He tells her all that, not without awkwardly pausing to regain control over his own voice: he just wants to fall before her and cry on her lap. He wants to hug her and worship her.
Still, he has to hold on a little more.
Just for her.
- So, assuming tonight is all we have left…
- I didn't say that.
- How long is a night on Darillium?
She looks hopelessly at him, staring at his face for her dear life.
And that’s when he answers her, smirking, while his hearts drum painfully in his chest, aching with love for the woman beside him.
- Twenty four years.
She sighs with relief and then laughs happy and dazed.
He returns the smile: it’s impossible for him not to.
- I hate you.
She murmurs it like she is still afraid to show him all her love.
Like he can’t read it clearly in her sincere smile. The smile that has only ever been just for him.
She still fears for her hearts to be broken.
His River.
He swears that from now on he will spend every single day trying to make her see how much he loves her. Always and completely.
He must, because soon she will be in front of a too young, too arrogant, too oblivious Doctor that will bring her to her death.
- No, you don’t.
He properly looks at her.
He gazes at her face. The most flawless face in all the universe.
She looks at him too, always smiling.
It’s like she can look through him, into his very soul trembling with anticipation.
They stare at each other lips, just for a moment.
Here starts their very last adventure: being happy, for a little time.
They kiss.