Chapter Text
Rule One – the Doctor lies. It was well-known to those who ran with him, and he had his reasons. But River lied, too, and she had reasons of her own. With the way she’d been raised, it came as naturally to her as breathing…but as she’d started to put her past behind her and learned to trust a select few, she found that there were those she didn’t want to lie to. Still, sometimes it was necessary, to protect them from the dangers of the universe.
Sometimes those dangers were emotional, rather than physical.
If River was honest with herself (something she also struggled with), she was probably protecting her own hearts as well. To say, for example, that she couldn’t have children, implying that she was unable to get pregnant rather than seemingly unable to carry a pregnancy to term or even viability…it was easier to think of it as a cruel twist of fate, rather than one of the many scars Madame Kovarian’s meddling had left her with.
The first time, it had almost felt like a blessing. As Mels, she’d interpreted Kovarian’s taunts that she would never be a mother the same way as she explained them now – and, at seventeen, had been dismayed to find herself pregnant. Before she could take steps to terminate, however, her body had done that for her. As much as she’d hated to admit it, she’d been relieved. At the time, she had neither wanted nor been prepared to parent a child – and, given her unique biology, it would have been too risky to attempt to go through with it in Leadworth.
Once she became River, however – more physically and emotionally mature, though some might have claimed that last part was debatable – she did occasionally think about having a child. Not just any child, the Doctor’s child. She had been bracing herself to discuss the possibility with him when she conceived for the first time in her new body, only to lose it before she found him again. At first, she’d written it off to the challenges inherent in any Time Lord pregnancy. But then came the second, and the third. Both had ended in heartbreak, before she’d had the chance to even tell the Doctor about them. And perhaps it was better that way. She did try to protect him, not just because of the way that ridiculously young face he wore crumpled every time he was hurt. River knew he still carried the scars of his previous losses and she didn’t want to burden him with more if she could help it. She did what she always did – steel herself and carry on.
After the third, she’d been more careful about using protection. But, fools that they could be, sometimes they got swept up in the moment and she didn’t think. Number four had lasted the longest, enough that she’d dared to hope. Enough that she’d started making plans and thinking of the baby by a name, rather than a number. Enough that she’d arranged a meeting with the Doctor to share the news. But two days before their rendezvous, in her nineteenth week, she’d woken up to a sharp pain in her abdomen and bloody sheets. That one had been the hardest, not only because she’d begun to believe – but that baby (Jamie, she’d been calling him Jamie) had been far too tiny to live but perfectly formed nonetheless. None of the others had developed enough to be recognizable as babies, but her Jamie…she’d held him against her chest for hours, sobbing and cursing the universe in every language she knew. The water in the bathtub had long since gone cold before she was able to find the strength to stand, wrap the baby in a blanket she’d bought just the week before, and bury him.
She’d thought of canceling her meeting with the Doctor, but given that she tended to look forward to their meetings even more than he did, she knew he’d be suspicious and probably come anyway. Her accelerated healing – physically, anyway – was enough to let her avoid giving anything away through ginger movements and she put on the stoic face she always did when her hearts were shattered and she couldn’t tell him why. She hated herself a little for doing it; he deserved to know. But it would have hurt him more than helping him, and so she made mindless conversation about irrelevant topics. For as oblivious as he could be sometimes, he’d known something was wrong and had asked, almost begged, her to tell him what it was. But she’d brushed it off and they’d departed with him casting worried looks her way.
She’d fallen into a deep depression after losing Jamie and had nearly convinced herself to pursue permanent birth control. But hope, as the Doctor had said once, was hard to resist. The technology to save premature babies existed. If she could make it just a few more weeks with the next one…it wouldn’t be easy, but their child could live. And, if born in the right century, there would be very few consequences to such an early birth, even on the edge of viability.
Number five didn’t give her any such chance; it ended at seven weeks. It was the push she’d needed to make an appointment to discuss permanent sterilization options – one she’d missed when she’d dashed off to meet the Doctor and her parents in Manhattan.
“One psychopath per TARDIS, don’t you think?” As always, she tried to laugh off her pain to spare him what she could. She’d even told him why earlier, even if she’d been characteristically snarky about it. And she’d left, not realizing that would be the last time she’d see him in that form. When he showed up on her doorstep on Christmas Day, months later, she hadn’t recognized him. At least not until it counted most.
And now they were here on Darillium, together for what might be the last time. At least they had a good twenty-three and a half years left. She’d been careful, tracking her fertility almost obsessively in the six months they’d been enjoyed wedded bliss, finally on the same page in time.
And then it had happened. He’d rolled over in bed one morning – well, “morning” for them; it wasn’t even midnight on Darillium – and given her that look, the one that said he was thinking far too much. “River…have you ever considered children? I know you said it’s doubtful you could conceive, but—”
Perhaps the linear time they’d spent together had softened her, or perhaps she was just tired of keeping her pain on the subject buried so deeply inside. But before he could finish his sentence, suggest options, she’d started crying.
His demeanor shifted instantly, sitting up in bed and gathering her into his arms. “Oh…River, I’m sorry. I never meant to upset you, love.” He pressed kisses into her hair while rubbing her back gently. “I…you always sounded so casual about it, I just didn’t think…it’s my fault; I’m such a fool…”
She shook her head against his chest. “No…it’s mine. I just…”
His next kiss landed on her forehead and he turned his head to let his cheek rest against her hair. “Protecting me again, hmm?”
River nodded, her hand curling around his as she listened to his heartbeats and let the sound soothe her. “Maybe myself a little, too.” She took a deep breath. This was going to hurt, but it was time he knew. No more secrets. “I need to tell you something.”
The Doctor lifted her chin so that their eyes met, his hand remaining on her cheek. “What’s that?” He was ready to listen, not rambling as he did when trying to avoid a subject. They’d both changed over these past months, and for the better.
“You have every right to be angry.” River didn’t know how he’d react, but anger was definitely one possibility, and it would have been perfectly justified. But if he walked away to cool off, she wasn’t sure how she’d handle it this time. She wouldn’t have blamed him, but she needed him by her side now more than ever.
“Please don’t tell me you’re pregnant with Hydroflax’s child.”
The sparkle in his eyes gave away the attempt at gallows humor, rather than a legitimate concern, and River swatted his chest. Despite what was coming, she couldn’t help but laugh. “I most certainly never had that kind of relationship with him! Do I look pregnant to you?”
“No!” He was quick to deny that; she’d give him credit. But then he sobered, shifting position to keep her close but take both her hands in his. “River…Melody…whatever if is you have to tell me, I can take it. If it’s hurting you, I want to know.”
The Doctor’s use of her given name melted her further. He saved it for moments like this, knowing the effect it had on her coming from him. “I’ve been pregnant before, Theta.” If he was getting on that emotional level with her, she could reciprocate. “It’s not getting pregnant that seems to be the problem…it’s staying pregnant.”
She could see his heartbreak in his expression, but he didn’t pull away, and for that she was grateful. “Oh, darling…” He pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” Her voice wavered, tight with the tears that threatened to return. “I never told you.”
“Exactly.” River was almost grateful she couldn’t see his face from this angle; she’d probably have broken down entirely just based on the sheer compassion and regret in his voice. “I’m sorry you never felt you could tell me. I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.” He was silent for a moment, rubbing her back, and there was a hitch in his voice when he finally asked, “How many?”
River looked up at him and she did start to cry again just seeing his face – not only his pain, but just him, ready to love and support her. As much as he would have had the right to shout her down for keeping this from him, she trusted now that he wouldn’t, and it was such a relief she could barely speak. “Four. Well…one was Mels, so…five, but four of ours.” Saying it out loud finally broke her and she sobbed into his chest as he held her close. “I’m so sorry I never-“
“River, River…no.” He shook his head against her hair, his arms tightening even further around her. “Please…don’t apologize. I’m the one who’s sorry. I don’t know what was wrong with me back then. For Rassilon’s sake, if you thought I never loved you, that was screwing up badly enough.”
As embarrassing as it had been to have him witness her passionate speech, when she’d bared her hearts in order to protect him, not realizing he was right there, the Doctor had tried every day to make her realize how wrong she’d been about that assumption. River took a deep breath, managing to control her tears long enough to curl up beside him, craving the physical contact. She needed it to get through this – and as much as his concern and understanding was a balm to her, it made her that much more emotional. “The first two were over before I could even make plans to tell you.” It hurt, but she’d come to terms with those losses much better than the others. “What would I have said?”
“I still could have been there for you,” he murmured against her hair.
River wanted to believe he would have been, but…they’d had so much working against them back then. “Yes, but…who knows when I might have found you to tell you. Before we’d even had sex for the first time? How do you think that would have gone over?”
The Doctor chuckled lightly. “Fair enough. And I was an idiot then. Still am, in a lot of ways.” Suddenly, he stilled, his expression different. “River…that time we met on Avantia IX, when you were so sad and wouldn’t tell me why…”
Tears filled her eyes again and she leaned against his chest. This was going to be the hardest part. “That was the third…Jamie.” She’d never spoken the name aloud before, and that realization made her cry harder. “He was the farthest I made it…nineteen weeks.”
A sob escaped the Doctor, and he murmured a Gallifreyan endearment as his arms tightened around her again. “Oh, my love…I’m sorry…I’m so, so sorry.” He stroked her hair, the both of them crying together for several minutes before he spoke again. “How long after was it?”
“Two days.” Her voice was barely more than a squeak against his chest. “I’d planned to tell you about him that day, but then…”
“Two days…” The Doctor’s voice was as tight as hers and if he held her any closer, she might have to activate her respiratory bypass. She didn’t want him to ease up at all, though; his touch was all that was keeping her as steady as she was. “Gods, River. I shouldn’t have let you brush me off like that. Our child, and you had to deal with that alone…”
“It would have only hurt you…”
“Yes, it would have hurt,” he said, tucking her head under his chin, “but I could have been there with you. We could have shared that pain, rather than you bearing it alone.”
“What’s done is done.” River curled her fingers around his wrist. “I made my choice.”
“Trying to spare me,” he insisted, but he didn’t push the matter further, just continued to hold her. “And the last?”
“Seven weeks.” She leaned against him, emotionally exhausted but feeling better with her dark secret out in the open between him. “I’ve been careful ever since. I can’t…I don’t think I can go through it again.”
He nodded. “I understand. I’m sorry I brought it up…but I’m also glad you could finally tell me.” He stroked her cheek, then leaned in to press a gentle kiss to her lips. “Whatever you decide, I’ll support you. Hell, if you want me to…”
“No…” She chuckled despite the situation, shaking her head. “You’ve got a whole new cycle…you might need those little swimmers someday, with some other wife…” One who could give you a family…
“Don’t care about that now…I have the only wife I want right here.” The Doctor smiled, kissing her hair. “Promise me one thing, love…no matter what happens for us in the future, if you’re hurting, you’ll share it with me.”
It was a promise she’d have to struggle with, given how accustomed she was to toughening up and carrying on, but for him – for them and their relationship – she’d try. “I promise.”
The Doctor nodded. “Good. And any time you want to talk about this, I’m ready to listen.”
Tears flooded her eyes again, but she nodded, leaning into his embrace. “Thank you.”
He stroked her cheek, and she knew his next words were not only a reassurance, but also a promise. “Always, my love.”